Cheeseburger in Paradise

Before everyone starts thinking I’m a saint for all my healthy eating efforts, I have to admit I have cracked. I can no longer cook dinner. I made a lovely German Oktoberfest-ish meal last night (grilled bratwurst, red cabbage ‘n apples, German potato salad) and ate approximately one piece of apple and one piece of potato. I lay on the couch playing the ‘What Sounds Good?’ game (where I run through every single imaginable edible item on the planet and gauge my gag reflex), and all I could come up with was a McDonald’s cheeseburger. So Quiet, patient and supportive as always, loaded me into the car and chauffeured me through the drive through. I didn’t even want the fries. Just the cheeseburger. I mean, two cheeseburgers. And an orange drink. And a caramel sundae. With nuts. So maybe I do want some protein after all.

Today I thought I was being smart and boiled some fresh ginger with a little honey, since the nausea started early (normally it doesn’t hit until after lunch, so I have time to get at least one healthy meal down). It didn’t work. I apparently wanted nothing but Taco Bell, for which I blame their latest commercial. I resignedly drove to the closest Taco Bell, only to find that it had burnt down or been blown up or something, as there were few walls, no roof, and positively no drive through. I decided that chicken was a decent compromise but forgot to ask my stomach. When I got home with Chick-Fil-A, I was a very unhappy girl. The lemonade was awesome (mmm, I wish I had more lemonade), but everything else was too greasy or too icky or too creamy or just gross to me. So now I’m sipping water and wondering what I am going to do in a few hours when I need to eat something before my AQUAMOMS CLASS!!!!! I am so excited. I can’t wait. Maybe I’ll try the egg-on-toast I’ve been craving, and just force it down. Omg, I hope I don’t barf in the pool, that would be a lousy first impression for all the moms-to-be I want to befriend. “Hi, my name is… hurghalahhrrffblrtgark!”.

I really, really need a hobby. I am making myself insane thinking about the Potential Person, plus I just plain need to get out of the house. I can’t do the Dive Club or the Cooking Club anymore. Maybe I’ll look at stupid Meetup this afternoon. It’s not like I can focus on doing work or anything. Thank god I’m still in that honeymoon new job phase, where I can delude my boss into believing I’m totally overwhelmed still with duties from my previous position.



Heading into 7 weeks. That means 8 weeks until I tell everyone. Because then that's just past the 'real' 12 weeks (this thing where docs measure from your LMP (last bloody event) is just ridiculous, I know exactly the moment I conceived so why can't I count from there?). Plus I love the idea of telling my mom in person, Thanksgiving weekend. Man, I still hope my parents are planning to be in Ohio.