Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Please help me. I need milk. So badly.
No cheese. No yogurt. No chocolate milk. No butter. No dark chocolate.
Seriously, have you tried to go a day without butter? In Georgia, I can probably be arrested for it.
It's been one day, and I feel like a wraith.
I'm telling you, almond milk is not the panacea i'd hoped. It's like unicorn blood, thank you very much, Dr. Crog. Like unicorn blood for Crocodile Dundee. You can live off it, but it tastes like sh*t. And you look like Voldemort. Or at least feel like him.
See, we were at the pediatrician's office yesterday for t.rex's 4 month visit. He is a confirmed moose at 16 pounds 9 ounces. w00t!
Honestly, have you ever seen such a fetching cervid?
And our pediatrician asked me if he spit up much.
"A bit," I said.
And then he cheesed a quart of chunky sour milk on my sweater and laughed.
And she wiped the curds off her arm and said, "Have you considered it might be reflux?"
And I said, "But look at him. He's so happy. Reflux hurts. Surely it's not reflux, despite the fact that everyone in my family has a hietal hernia."
And although she agreed that he did seem very pleased with himself for making me smell like month-old yogurt, she pointed out that reflux was bad for babies, even if they aren't in pain. So she recommended I go dairy-free for a week and see if the spitting up improves, in case he's reacting to the dairy in my own personal dairy.
At the time, it sounded like a fun project. I'd go to Whole Foods and try some new and interesting milk substitutes. Like Silk hazelnut creamer, which is actually pretty decent.
But now, one day in, and I am trying to convince myself that one little dark chocolate Hershey's Kiss wouldn't hurt my little upchucker. Just one. One little chocolate. For the antioxidants.
Must. Resist. Chocolate.
Must. Find. Chocolate. Substitute.
Must. Eat. Jelly. Belly. Jelly. Beans?
On the upside, I am probably 300 calories under the norm today with a severe deficit in fat, but personal non-dairy torture is not my favorite way to diet.
As I tried to cope with my own personal dietary hell, Dr. Crog and the Biscuit enjoyed a little bit of music and completely ignored my plight.
Smug, milk-drinking jerks.