Right now I am sitting on the sofa in my pajamas, exactly as I was when my husband left to go to work at 6:30 this morning. Never have I seen him so eager to leave. It appears that the large quantity of roasted garlic I consumed yesterday does not agree with my daughter's digestive system. Sophia has been sobbing and having gas off and on, (mostly on) since late last night. We have rocked, walked, bounced, listened to music, and driven through the Starbucks drive-thru, which was more for me than her, and nothing has helped. This day has made me have a new respect for people who have colicky babies. How do you guys survive?!? It's been hard enough to handle the cacophonous cries of my baby without also having to deal with the snide comments and disdainful looks of others. The barista at Starbucks handed me my latte with raised eyebrows and a smirk and told me that I had, "some baby." Was that really necessary? I think I should have a sign or something that reads, "let she whose baby never cries cast the first stone." This is more of a rant today than anything else but hey, blogging is cheaper then therapy.
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