I Love the Smell of Baby Barf in the Morning

The entire Varmint Clan was bright-eyed and bushytailed before 7am today. And there wasn't even a plane to catch.

On normal days, Mak wakes up around 5am. I go get her, bring her to our bed and she has breakfast. Then, we all doze off and blissfully enjoy another hour or two before she and I start our day. Dad wakes up a few hours later.

This morning I dozed off while she was nursing. I did wake up briefly a couple of times - she was still nursing - but drifted off again. Awhile later I open my eyes and check on her. She's spread-eagled and smiling, both hands on her belly.

A few minutes later, I wake up because she's mewling. Figuring she needs to burp, I sit up and pull her gently to my shoulder. I pat her once, twice - I feel her take a deep breath - and a projectile of milk shoots from her mouth like a fire hose, spraying the bed, pillows, back wall, night stand, my back, hair and pajamas. It splashes over an entire quarter of our king-size mattress - a perfect bullseye on the part where I sleep.

The Varmint, usually so comatose you could start a leaf blower by his head with nary a flinch, sits straight up, his nightshades askew and grumbles "Uh oh," in his too-early for Varmint zombie-voice.

Mayhem ensues as we strip the bed, strip the baby, strip me, start stacking laundry piles and scramble for paper towels, bath towels, and a king-sized bottle of cleaner. An hour later, the laundry is running, my hair is washed, and because the bed is stark naked, damp and smelling like detergent, we're all evicted into the living room. Each of us is dressed and upright, like it or not.

As a bedraggled Varmint and I sit shellshocked and silent, slurping our coffee, our offspring is cavorting nonchalantly in her bouncer totally oblivious to the petty plight of mere mortals mommy and daddy. Suddenly, her still milk-crusted mouth curls back into an enormous gummy grin. She looks from my face to my boobs, smacking her lips and squeals.

"I don't believe it," says The Varmint in a monotone. "The kid's already ready for round two."

"Well, she did lose most of her breakfast," I reply. "Either that, or it's demonic possession."



Please enter your contact information, so we can verify you aren't a bottom-feeding spambot. We promise we won't pass it along to anyone.

I am a writer and lazy artist who loves travel, architecture and design. Right now, I'm into photography. My fabulous husband (a.k.a. The Varmint) and I are also the principals of a San Diego-based creative agency - and new parents to the divine Baby Mak. Read More >