Gassy Ann

Anna has fussy time. Trouble is, it doesn't happen at the same time each day. Sometimes it is from 6-8 pm. Other times it is from 1-3 am (during those times, Richard takes the shift with her-- often watching the strange collection of T.V. that comes on that late. The next morning he will say something like, "have you ever seen the show 'Gargoyles'?" or "they show marathons of 'Throw down' all night sometimes"). I am very blessed to have a husband that can't seem to get enough of spending time with our daughter.

There are a lot of hypothesis' concerning why Anna has fussy time. But the most applicable is that she probably has gas. How do I know this? When I hold her, I can here it, and sometimes I can even feel it! Her stomach gurgles the same way mine does when something doesn't agree with my digestion (i.e., that pound of cherries I ate in one day this summer). And of course, when mommy has a gassy tummy, daughter is certainly to follow.

So I am resigning my Mexican food ways. I will mourn for the lost salsa, the lost black beans and refried beans, and chili sauces, and habanero/serrano/jalapeno flavors that have graced my plate over the past three years. I just can't in good conscience eat the way I have in the past. Even though I have physically and mentally prepared myself for the consequences of such cuisine choices, I can't put Anna through the same rigamarole.

I have also given up soy nuts, cheese, prunes (I love prunes), and bran.

On an unrelated note, Richard and I watched "Julie and Julia" last week, and I totally want to take the challenge to make all of Julia Child's recipes over the course of a year....Although, there are probably other chefs whose food would be more divine in my estimation-- the Barefoot Contessa, Bobby Flay, Paula Deen, or Tyler Florence come to mind.