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I used to love spontaneity, like late night ice cream runs or impromptu day trips to Washington state.  Sometimes on a whim I'd decide I needed some retail therapy or a dinner out, and Hubbs and I would spend hours (sometimes a whole day) shopping and dining and running errands, with nary a care about schedules or time.  It was just him and I, on an adventure together and spending quality time with one another.

I miss those days.

My life as I know it has changed forever (not that I'm complaining, because my daughter is adorable and a joy in my life), and many of those spontaneous fun things are on an indefinite hiatus until Baby Loquacious is old enough for me to resume going "off schedule."  For now, however, we try to keep to a schedule so that we can get her internal clock set to learn the difference between night and day.

Of course, this means that I try to get some shut-eye when she sleeps.  It also means that my non-baby-times are spent invested in personal hygiene or sterilizing bottles or doing laundry or dishes or pumping boob juice or managing household banking and bills.  So much for spontaneity.

Speaking of spontaneous, let's talk farts.  It has become one of my new favourite topics, not because I love to toot but because my baby does.  A lot.  And it's the smelly variety too, the kind that's oft followed by a shifty-eyed expression and a gaseous smile.  Sometimes she'll let several rip in succession; Hubbs counted a record-shattering 17 just the other day.  Think about it - 17 farts let out one after another, within a time frame of maybe a minute or two, and with some farts lasting long enough for Hubbs to whip out his cell phone and time it (20+ seconds is the current record).    It's almost like she's drumming out beats with her arse.

Anyway, much as we are entertained by her flatulence, it is also a bit of a concern.  I'm pretty sure this volume of gas is not normal, especially when coupled with her all-too-frequent hiccuping and sometimes bloated tummy and several other choice symptoms that point in the direction of lactose sensitivity.  I already avoid most dairy products in my own diet (knowing full well that some lactose is a natural part of my boob juice) to try to mitigate my contribution to this air pollution, but it hasn't seemed to help.

Today I've decided (spontaneously) to try out a new formula, as suggested by my sis Vanilla Con.  Rather than go the route of a soy-based formula, however, I'm trying out Similac Sensitive first (since I already have a can of it at home).  It is lactose-free but still milk-based (which I prefer to soy, which mimics estrogen in the body when consumed often enough).  Turns out, upon reading reviews online, that this stuff is a bit of a miracle cure for a lot of fussy gassy babes! I am optimistic.

Feeling the rumble down south
Squeezing one out...maybe
Ready for a nap now


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