The bulk of my experience with babies began when my half-sisters were born, when I was 8-10 years old. And so many of my references come from that time: we call pacifiers “pi-pi’s” (Rachel) and baby spit-up is “urp”.

Eowyn is the urping-est kid I’ve had so far. The Dr hasn’t gone so far as to say she has reflux yet, but man, this kid can spit up! And it’s never in a predictable way, like when you’re burping her after she eats. No, it’s 10 minutes later, while she’s lying on her back looking at you. Or 2 hours later, as she starts eating again and returns 1/4 of her last meal, nice and curdled. Or every time I put her in her carseat. I’ve never had to use bibs on a newborn before, but we go through several a day with her.

And so, I find myself calling her Urpalicious (which almost always results in having Beyonce’s “Bootylicious” stuck in my head for the next hour), or Princess Urpy, or Urpalina. Poor girl – MaraJade was LadyBug or Baby Girl – but Eowyn is just the Urping Queen.


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