30 June 2010

Meal, snacks, meal, snacks, repeat

When we lived in New Zealand and my friend, Makereta, was expecting, she thought about food a lot. We spent quite a lot of time together, so I was fairly in-the-know in regards to her pregnancy progress. I remember that she had been scheduled to have an ultrasound to find out the gender of her baby. I went to her house that afternoon, walked in and said, "What are you having?" She replied, "An egg sandwich." "No, I mean, is your baby a boy or a girl?" Then she told me that the appointment hadn't been scheduled properly and they had to reschedule.

On the afternoon of her actual appointment, virtually the same scenario occurred again.

"What are you having?"

"Spaghetti bolognese!"

"No, what is the gender of your baby?"

"Oh! A girl!"

I am beginning to understand that now. I'm frequently hungry and quite often contemplating when my next snack will be and what I should have. Eric is still the primary shopper around here, and he does a great job of keeping lots of healthy options available for me to munch on. He also does a great job of helping me figure out what I want at any given point in time:


"No, I should probably have some fruit."


"Yuck. I have been disgusted by bananas since the middle of April."


"If you can guarantee that it will be awesome. How do I know it will be juicy and crispy? How do I know the peel won't be gross?"


"If you'll peel it for me. Don't worry, you can tax it." (That means that he gets a portion of the orange since he was the one who peeled it. This is our system. It is basically the only way I eat oranges.)

And then whatever snack has been decided upon is served to me. Seriously, my husband is amazing.

One evening a few weeks ago when he was not home, I cried because I was hungry and didn't know what to eat. I'm not making that up, and I'm not exaggerating. Pregnancy makes me irrationally emotional. Also hungry.

1 comment:

Jenny said...

CHILDREN make me irrationally emotional. And also hungry. I hate to say you're in a holding pattern, but here I am. Eating. And Crying. Repeat.