Nowadays, with BB2, I am a pro burp and fart gatherer. I stop at nothing to get all of them! The other day, it struck me as funny that so much runs through my head during my mission and there is a distinct pattern I follow as I am working on getting all that trapped air out. And hey presto! This post was born! See if you can relate...
1) Where the f**k is the Muslin!
The amount of times that I have started to burp baby without a muslin (or 'muzzy' as we affectionately call these little fabric shields from vomit!). The amount of times that I exclaim in panic 'Quick! I need a muzzy!' is just ridiculous. You'd think I would just have one welded to my shoulder at all times but I am not that organised or sensible. Plus I am vain and draw the line at trying to accessorise with a square of plain weave cotton fabric day in day out if I can help it (yes, I just googled 'What is muslin made from'...).
2) Why on earth am I wearing black?!
It's slimming. But yes, completely impractical for nursing and winding an infant and I am permanently walking around with stains all over my shoulders and bosom. Sometimes on my leggings too if we have a real surge of reflux hit.
3) Shit! I've just broken his back... he's paralysed... he's... oh, no he's fine. Phew.
Absent minded patting can sometimes become a little too forceful and you suddenly realise you are giving more than just a firm pat on the back and find yourself panicking that you have done some damage. Never happens thankfully but that split second of horror is just awful! Same goes for how much you have to fight their movements and hoof them around everywhere too.
4) Please don't puke on me!
I have tried to make my peace with being thrown up on but it just isn't a part of motherhood I am able to embrace. Many a time I have felt a warm wave of regurgitated milk cascade down my cleavage and pool in between my boobs and each time I can't help but grimace. It is the only time in my adult existence that I have ever reverted back to my 12 year old self and yelled 'Ewwwww! Grosssss!'. I hang my head in shame and wish I could be less squeamish and childlike about it.
5) I bet it's horrible not being able to burp by yourself...
I tried it as an experiment the other day. I downed a glass full of fizzy and fought against the urge to burp. The result? A lot of the air I couldn't keep down so I had to succumb to burping but I still got a tummy ache and I then kicked myself for being so silly. All in the name of research though right?
6) How does something so loud come out of someone so cute and tiny?
You'd think that babies would create some type of 'baby burp'. Little squeaks or puffs or something like that. But, honestly, our two create sounds that are louder than any I have heard come from an adult. You sometimes wonder if they may take off like a rocket and a lot of the time, even they look quite shocked at the sound they've just made. One came out so loud the other day that it made the cat jump! Poor thing was terrified.
7) Uh - oh. Another outfit change.
Nothing like a wet burp to increase the laundry basket contents is there? And sometimes you get a wet burp AND a wet fart at the same time and find yourself a little bit frightened and at a loss as to where to start first. Note, I usually start from the bottom/more offensive end and just work my way up. Whilst thinking all thoughts 1 -6.
8) Time for a new position!
I switch up my burping positions all the time. Over the shoulder, sat on the lap facing away from me, swirling him around in a circle whilst again sitting on my lap, or laying over my lap... I try them all in succession until we get that glorious 'uuuurrrrrp'.
Sad as it is, I always feel so triumphant when an air bubble gets released. One step closer to a comfortable baby. Always a huge sense of achievement!
10) Please bring the wind up so I can put you back in your cot and go back to bed. Yawn.
There is nothing more annoying than winding your baby in the wee small hours and not getting anything out. You daren't lay them down or else they may bring everything back up or start screaming the house down, but you are so tired and hanging out of your arse that even the wall looks like a nice place to sleep.