I HATE SPIT-UP (but I love my daughter!)

I HATE SPIT-UP
(but I love my daughter!)

by Shelley Clem

I played games with you

I held you in the air

It was a mistake:

Spit-up’s in my hair

Then I try to look

For just any dry spot

To wipe up the wet

With this cloth—but there’s not

So I put you down

In your fun Jumperoo;

When I turned around,

You spit-up there, too

(And you can’t conceive

How hard it must be

To scrub out it’s every

Darn nook and cranny)

I searched for a rag

They’re all in the wash

I guess I’ll use one

Of your diapers, by gosh

I’m at my wit’s end,

Will this ever stop?

What’s that crusted mess

On my foot? Spit-up glop.

Your Daddy comes home

For his break from work

He holds you and watches

Spit-up go berserk

We want to go out,

I’m dressed really cute

And then you spit up

All over my boot

I tell you I’m done

With this mess; I am through!

But give me one smile,

Oh my girl, I love you!

No matter the spit-up

If it rains and pours,

When cleaning your mess

Has me down on all fours,

When Daddy's work shirts

Are all dirtied by you

And none of my clothing

Is left without goo

When I change five times

Just to head out the door

When I have to give up

On mopping the floor

When you have nothing

That's not in the wash,

Burpcloths, bibs, or socks

or that outfit so posh

All it takes to know

You’re worth doing this for

Is hugs, kisses, smiles

Just for me. Nothing more.