A Good Mistake

I just ate a cookie.  I might pay for it later, but not how you think.

Let me back track -- last Thursday we went to Cafe Rio for giant burritos.  I asked the cashier what the horchata was like and in a moment of... shall we say thoughtlessness (?) I drank the sample she handed me.

For those of you who don't know, horchata is a mexican rice drink made with milk.  Milk, or rather, it's fat and flamboyant brother, condensed milk.

It was delicious.

I wanted to smack myself on the back of the head afterwards.  First off, tasting the horchata broke one of my many "avoiding milk for JG rules" -- don't eat anything white.  Because most white foods contain milk.

I spent the next day waiting for JG's reaction.  With the chocolate the reaction was immediate, with two days of her screaming bloody murder before pooping, but that was two months ago.

She was fine all day Friday, and by Saturday morning I was fantasizing about a bacon cheeseburger from Crown Burger.

Holy.  Mother.



Wait.

Understand for a moment that over the past seven months I have built a thick cast iron wall around my desire for anything milk related.  Yes, I have pined for donuts and dreamed about bingeing on a buffet of butter drenched goodness.  In the past whenever I ate anything with milk in it JG would poop blood and scream like crazy, so it was easier to avoid the milk than deal with my angry baby.

Convinced my fantasy was just a fantasy, I asked Alex for his input.  Was I correct in my observation of JG's non/slow/reduced reaction?

He CONFIRMED it and agreed to a visit to the burger Val Halla of Salt Lake valley.

OH.  MY.  GOD.

The cheese was so sweet it overpowered the bacon.  OVERPOWERED it.  If you're a vegetarian or something crazy like that, you may not understand the magical properties bacon contains.  I am positive a bacon fairy exists to spread joy on earth... however...

The cheese fairy is bigger and systematically beat the bacon fairy's ass in the taste category.

For me, anyway.

We watched JG carefully for the rest of the day for signs, and there were none.  No screaming, no bloody diapers (NO BLOODY DIAPERS), nothing to say, "This hurts, I'm disappointed, and I hate you."

Only.  The only thing that hinted at a reaction was some wakefulness.  Thursday she woke up at 10:30 PM (she goes to bed around 7) and would not go back to sleep until midnight, and Saturday morning she woke at 4:00 AM and didn't fall back to sleep until 5:30 AM.

It could have been the cheese, or it could be teething.  (Teething exists simply to torture mothers with guessing games.)

Other than wakefulness JG was fine.



I was not.


I don't want to go into detail, but the toilet and I made friends.

Apparently going on a strict no milk diet has made my guts forget how to digest the stuff.

I spent Sunday feeling queasy.  I spent Sunday thinking of how to slowly work milk back into my diet.  Strangely enough, rather than being super excited, I'm frightened.

So, when JG screamed before pooping Monday night I was both relieved and saddened.

It may have been the milk, or it could have been something else.

For now I might sample small pieces of things with milk ingredients, but I won't go full tilt.  I am so thrilled that JG's system is healing and progress is being made in terms of maturation.

So, Milk, I'm eyeing you.  Soon, Milk, soon.