Sunday: reflux

For the second night in a row, A. has been up a bunch complaining about burping. We gave her GasX. We put a bucket by her bed. We had her move to her lower bunk in case something ugly happened. After poking around online a bit, I concluded that this could be lactose related (she does not drink much milk, but she does have grilled cheese sandwiches with American cheese and she does eat milk chocolate), but could also just be lack of exercise and too much food. Despite me being bigger and eating more than all of my husband’s family, I never have had this problem (OK, not totally true, but directly attributable to two oversize manhattans and a pulled pork sandwich and I did not do that a second time).

I put her on the treadmill for five minutes and something helped because she was able to sleep. I am going to start going for walks with her; we both need the exercise anyway. I am also going to start downsizing portions and adding a bit more resistance to requests for smores (along with reducing the chocolate in each smore).

I have been going over my to-do list and removing things I have no commitment to really doing, and taking next steps on things I do want to get done, and clumping projects together to hopefully spin out into separate notes. This thing had gotten kind of out of control. I mean, it was still mostly working, but things (like the bed net) had slid way down the list and stayed theree.