I am STARVING but there aren't any snacks or prepared food to hand and the baby needs to be rocked to sleep, so I am drinking glorious milk in a bit of leftover coffee in order to stave off rapid ketosis. You see, as far as I understand it, it is not necessarily a sign of blissful first-world ignorance to describe yourself as STARVING when you are hungry, because you may very well be in ketosis, especially if you are breast-feeding and walking everywhere! I realize that this starvation is not unto death because I have a lot of food available to me as soon as I get up from this very pleasant little diversion of rocking my baby to sleep, drinking coffee milk, and blogging.
I went off cow's milk for many days, planning to go two weeks, in order to see if the wee bairn had a difficulty digesting it, but I couldn't make it the whole two weeks. I loaded up on dairy yesterday and while he's had a bit of gas, the evening was marred only by about an hour of fussing, rather than several hours of screaming, so I don't think the milk was the problem, or at least not the primary problem. I think he's just growing up, and it's hard (see the "Strawberry Fields" reference on my sidebar.) The evening colic jag is often referred to as "happy hour," and that's apt. Even grownups need a drink when the day is done, and if they don't drink, then they have some other sort of relaxation ritual. We've decided that we'd better start a bedtime routine for Scott in order to help him wrap his head around the idea of day and night. It's going to involve a bath, nursing, pajamas, and a beer. I think it might help us all transition to the new place. I'm a little worried about that; it's not like he will remember his first home when he's older, but I do sense that he's aware of when we're home and when we're not (possibly influenced by my own level of relaxation,) and it could be bad if he just doesn't feel at home in our new apartment for several days or more.
This morning Scott and I got up when Matt was getting ready for work, and we all enjoyed the ominous, quiet glow of a morning heavy with a storm. On the internet I was led to a cool website wherein you can listen to very fine ambient noise of many kinds. I liked the Himalayan Bowls, In Utero, and Beatae Memoriae. But then I saw a flash of lightning and realized that there was a real thunderstorm outside, and I'd do better to listen to that. It reminded me of a story my midwife told me about a yuppie couple who said they wanted to listen to thunder during their labor. When my midwife was driving to their birth, she was delighted to see that there was indeed a thunderstorm brewing, and when she got there she said "Well, you got your thunderstorm!" And they had no idea, because they had the windows and blinds closed and the air conditioner was going, while they listened to a recording of a thunderstorm. Har har!
Baby is asleep! Time to make my eggies and toasty, and then hurriedly accomplish the beginning parts of several tasks.
One thing I wanted to commit to print, though, before I really do starve unto death: I decided that I'm going to look for a nerd choir in the DC area which will let me in to sing medieval chant etc. Surely there is something like this in our nation's capitol. I don't know how I will find it but since my husband is going to attend The Catholic University of America, I hope something will show up. I really love singing chant in Latin and I can't do that in church, since I'm not Catholic and I don't have a time machine anyway. It will be good and fun in itself, and also a useful know-how for teaching Latin, which I hope to do again in the future, at least to filii mei if not to others.
Oh, one more P.S., it's nice to listen to the Complete Holy Rosary. Lots of repetition of course.