A Post Full of Cheese-y Puns

I have a confession. Maybe more like a secret to share. I haven't had a glass of milk in almost seven years. I can't. It makes my stomach do funny things. It hasn't always been that way. In fact, during my last trimester, a glass of ice cold milk always hit the spot. Same with when I was nursing. I drank milk all the time. 

Tyler self weaned a little after he turned nine months so we supplemented with formula, gradually increasing the amount of milk over water. Between the three of us, we were going through several gallons of whole milk per week. Phil was in heaven because we'd been drinking 2 percent before I got pregnant.

I remember the first time I poured myself a tall glass of milk and things went sour. I was so surprised. I switched us back to 2 percent thinking it would help but it was the same. Talk about heartbreaking. Since then I've tried soy and almond milk and just can't stomach the taste. The weird thing is, I can have cereal if I keep the milk ratio low, I can drink lattes and mochas, I always use half and half in my coffee and have a yogurt almost every morning. None of that bothers me. 

Now, before you go feeling sorry for me, let me say I have found my work around and it pleases me greatly. Cheese. I can eat cheese until the cows come home with no problems whatsoever. And boy, do I. Our fridge is always full of cheese in various forms: blocks, shredded, string, slices and snack sticks. If we're having a meal I can remotely get away with sprinkling cheese on, I will. My favorite thing to serve when we have guests is a fruit and cheese plate. Give me a hunk of cheese and some crackers and I'm a happy girl.

I should probably make an effort to find out the reasons behind my milk intolerance so I don't go another seven years without it and I'm sure one day I will. But for now, please pass the cheddar. 

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