Just one complaint

Like I said, I'm really enjoying mommy-hood and I've learned to adjust to a life of less sleep, lots of messy diapers and timing challenges. But one thing I've not yet become accustomed to, even after 3 months, is the whole spit-up deal. But while I haven't gotten used to it, I have learned when to expect it: (a) right after I've changed my clothes, (b) right after I've changed Jack's clothes, (c) right when I need to be out-the-door, (d) when I'm on the phone or (e) when I'm not paying attention and then I get to work and realize there's a patch of dried milk on my shoulder. My laundry load has doubled with the added "spit cloths," and I've been smelling sour milk in my sleep. Not to mention the throw pillows we've already had to toss. It's a good thing our landlord installed carpet the color of curdled milk, and kuddos to my honey for picking out a beige sofa, otherwise our home might resemble a landmine. Jon and I have considered getting a new couch this year, but what's the point? Might as well wait until we're through having kids.
I've heard mixed reviews on spit-up. Some say it's the result of an immature digestive system, others say it could be overeating, or maybe it's that I'm jostling him too much. Naturally, I checked things out on Babycenter. Apparently it is all these things, and doesn't appear to be one in particular. Since spitting up is natural and common, I guess I'll just learn to deal with it for the next 3-4 months. As with all challenges of baby-rearing, it's only temporary.
The other night I was feeding Jack for the last time before going to bed. It was late and we were both tired from a busy day at work and the sitter. Jack always poops while I feed him, so I usually wait until well after he's finished to change his diaper. The only problem is that at night he'll just be starting to drop off while he's eating, and then I have to change him and smiling, giggling, playful boy is back in full force, just in time to lay down for the night. So anyway, the boy that was sleeping in my arms only seconds earlier is now squealing with all his might. I try to be quiet and serious during this time, just so he knows it's time for bed and not for play, but it's pretty hard when twinkle-eyes here is thumping his legs on the changing table and pounding his fists in the air. Just as I go to sit him up, he lets out an "Ahhh" that sounded about 15 years too early for a baby. I was laughing so hard I missed the signal and was soon covered in Jack's delicious night time snack. In my hair, down the shirt I had just pulled out of the clean laundry basket, trailing down my pants and puddling on the floor. I had to keep laughing, I didn't know how else to respond. So I decided to try to feed him a little more to see if he'd calm down for bed, within seconds I heard the all-too familiar gurgling sound of a Jack poop. Right into the freshly changed diaper. So it was back to the changing table, and back to more toothless smiles and high-pitched laughter. And then right to bed where Jack smiled himself to sleep and mama scrubbed herself down for the night. I think my husband finally understands why I prefer to "dress-down" during the day.