Dear Bigga Bit,
I'm sorry. I know you're not into dairy products, but that slice of leftover pizza was calling my name this afternoon. I simply had to eat it. I know I said I'd cut out cheese for a few days to see if you napped better, and I really, really tried. But it's HARD. Cheese is so tasty and apparently a more common ingredient in my diet than I ever imagined.
A piece of string cheese for a mid-morning snack. Sprinkled on my favourite salad. A slice of provolone on my turkey sandwich. Melted and gooey in a black bean burrito or a chicken quesadilla. And pizza. Yummy, yummy pizza.
But not yummy for you, it seems. Unless all that wiggling, crying and man-sized tooting this evening was just part of you and your brother's master plan to torture me. Good job, by the way. Tell your brother the plan worked.
I didn't complain (too) much when I had to stop drinking milk and eating ice cream. It was tough to give up ice cream — after all, it was summer and I had already suffered through an ice-cream-free pregnancy thanks to gestational diabetes.
But cheese? You're asking too much, baby. Too much. But a necessary sacrifice, I suppose, to keep you sweet, happy and SLEEPING.
And just so we're clear ... don't get any ideas about chocolate. Capiche?
Love,
Muenster-free Mama
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