Dear Food...Thanks For The Memories
I'm going to be honest here...I made a bangin ass chili yesterday. All hail the crock pot, who does my best work for me. I'm obsessed with soup, this month anyway. Last month I was obsessed with all things pumpkin (when I started making pumpkin pancakes I realized things were getting out of control). I'm still working on the perfect pumpkin soup as a magical culmination of the last couple of months. I know, my life is intense.
Anyway, back to my chili. It was vegetarian, obviously, I think the last time someone brought meat into this house was thanksgiving when my dad decided to bring 3 whole chickens for the SIX meat eaters attending. 3 beans, seasoned with everything from a dash of cinnamon and cumin to a packet of onion soup mix and mixed with a surprise of a cup of wheat bulgur to get that almost meaty texture. My mouth is watering just thinking about. Even my son, who has recently decided pizza, bananas, and candy are the only 3 food groups worth dealing with, ate a gigantic bowl of it.
Why am I rambling on about chili? Why not?? No actually there is a reason. The reason being that I got to try said soup, realize how delicious it was, take several more bites before also realizing I was still too sick to actually eat it, or anything else.
I love food. I'm actually pretty sure that's why I work in a restaurant, just to be close to it. Getting pregnant the first time around was like a free for all. Finally! An excuse to eat everything in sight! I loved food right into an extra 80 pounds during that time (I wish I could say I was exaggerating but the nurse literally exclaimed "oh my god!" during one weigh in).
So to be pregnant, a time when food is even MORE exciting and not be able to participate in the party? That's just cruel.
I split a kit-kat with Conor earlier and that was about as crazy as things got up in here.
Alright, now that I got that out I'm done complaining.
Today I got to go visit a friend who had her first baby a few weeks ago. Aaah, babies! I got to hold a newborn again (until he starting crying and giving me the "I'm about to blow this diaper" face then I quickly tossed him back like a game of hot potato) and I remembered the baby fever I've been having since Conor turned 2 (and consequently, into a butt head). I'd forgotten it over the past couple weeks, oddly enough because of the excitement and anxiety of finding out I'm pregnant. With all the uproar I'd forgotten that this whole nauseating experience of pregnancy ends with another baby! THAT'S why we put ourselves through this!
I'm still not allowing myself to get really excited until the first doctor's visit, and probably until the end of the first trimester, maybe not even until after labor, but it's nice to remember that I will eventually get to be enamored with another baby.
And on top of that I had a lovely day with my lil butt head. Usually after a particularly trying, tantrum throwing, I'm-raising-a-monster week my son will suddenly turn back into the sweet, funny, goofy boy that I always swear he actually is (especially to onlookers in Target, no really, he's not like this, it must be nap time, etc). Today I got to hang out with that boy again and it reminded me how much I love being his mommy.
Then the sugar kicked in.
Just kidding. He's actually pretty hilarious on a sugar rush, he's like me on red bull (oh, red bull days, I'll always remember you fondly).