Ridiculous things preggos do, Vol. 1

I'm not a superstitious person. When we found out we were pregnant, the first thing hubby did was run back inside the bar and tell his boys (Um, yes, I told him in a bar parking lot. I figured if Pam and Jim could get engaged at a gas station, it wasn't the worst thing to have to do). Which was fine with me; boys don't typically sit around gossiping about who's expecting next and when...but I still made sure they all knew we were keeping it quiet.

We decided to wait until 9 weeks to tell our parents (after our first official doctor's appointment...uh, yeah, that didn't go so well. There was one mom in particular—cough,ma,cough—who was not so happy about the fact that I didn't call her the second I peed on the stick), and then gradually let people know as we crept to that all-important end of the first trimester.

In the meantime, however, I've been keeping track of some of the weirder things this whole experience has caused my body and brain to go through. You experienced mommies are either giggling at my naivete here or nodding in agreement...those of you who have The Great Hormone Shift ahead of you, however...heh. Just. You. Wait. It's been pretty easy, really...as long as I keep saltines and Wint-o-Green life savers around, I've kept any nausea in check, and the only other things that have been tormenting me are the acne (what, am I 14 again?) and the massively sore boobs. Don't hug me, btw. I'll cry.

So here are a few other gems I noted in my first trimester...

I am thirsty all. the. time. Every time I get up (usually to pee), I find myself in the fridge looking longingly at the Sierra Nevada and the three bottles of white wine I bought ONE WEEK before the booze-ban began, and annoyingly reaching for whatever cold, non-alcoholic, non-caffeinated beverage is in front of me instead, forgetting every time that I already HAVE a drink waiting for me.


Yep. All full.

I cannot make a decision. I generally know what I want for dinner well in advance. Today, around 2pm, I decided I wanted macaroni salad. Went to the store, boiled eggs and pasta, chopped tomatoes, celery and onion, mixed, and promptly decided I'd rather have Cream of Mushroom soup. From a can. It's 104 degrees outside.

Oh, and then I burned it. And ate it anyway.

Hormones. One afternoon I burst into tears because hubby was being an annoying back-seat driver (ok, he said one small yet unnecessary thing). Burst. Into. Tears. He soon after texted me to apologize "for being a dick," and I apologized for being a hormonal wreck. My husband is not a dick. I however, am a hormonal wreck. Siiigh.

Cravings. I want carbs, and I want them all. the. time. Bagel for breakfast? Check. Sandwich for lunch? Yep. Pasta for dinner? Um, definitely. It's so bad I told Hubby that the freaking Olive Garden sounded great. Even saying it made me shutter, and writing it is no better. I hate the O.G...As the great Anthony Bourdain recently put it, "I can't drive past a Chili's or an Olive Garden and not boil with rage."

I am with you. It's just wrong. But I would still give anything for some salad and breadsticks right now. Like, a barrel of them. And then I want to stop at the Tutti Frutti afterward and serve myself a gigantor Banana fro-yo with raspberries. I need this to happen.

And last, but not least, Booze. I like to drink. This is not new information...I'm quite vocal about this fact. This is also why the couples we regularly hang out knew we were expecting before we even had to tell them..."Pam. Why aren't you drinking...Oh, crap, you're knocked up!"

Sigh. Yep. Guilty.

Yes, I miss my booze. I've given up on the idea of vodka and gin martinis (I just realized last night that by not drinking, I'm saving hundreds—hundreds!—of olives from a sad and lonely death via consumption) and I'm not wanting beer in particular, but wine—particularly when I'm craving steak—that I miss. Enough so that I committed the ultimate boozer sin...I bought some non-alcoholic stuff to try.

I'd looked this brand up before I plunked down the cash for it (it's like six bucks, not the point), cause I was afraid it was just going to be bottled grape juice, which would be a complete waste of my time, money, and taste buds.

Verdict? It might be passable if you're used to $3.00 Merlot.


Otherwise, skip it. I'm just happy to have made it to the second trimester...cause damnit, I'm ready to have a glass of wine. You wanna argue with a pregnant lady about that? Bring it. I've got stats, damnit. And they are in my favor, and in favor of some Pinot Noir. Which (a littttle bit of) will go just wonderfully with my Chicken Parmesan tonight, thankyouverymuch.

Let's just hope Hubby agrees. He's been on board so far, as in, "Damnit, Pam, you can make it 3 more weeks!" everytime I whine, But I just want a litttttle glass...it's done developing!!! His reasoning is that our baby is "special" and therefore takes longer to be perfected. I think that's obviously some sort of jab at my family's genetics, but I'm a little hormonally oversensitive right now...