Monday, July 26, 2010

Belly Blog

I should be old hat at this stuff by now, right? I mean third time is the charm and all. It still never ceases to amaze me how much your body becomes possessed when you're carrying a child. Maybe not quite as Linda Blair as you're thinking, but my mood swings do make my (and everyone else in proximity's) head spin with their intensity, the projectile vomiting (which was probably mislabeled "morning" sickness by a man! It's really "all first trimester" sickness) I am thankfully over, but these stupid cravings still linger. Giving me out of body experiences all day long. I mean who wouldn't be going crazy all day trying to type up a report at work while the chanting in the back of your brain is saying "espresso brownies! espresso brownies! espresso brownies!"
So far the cravings have manifested as anything Tex-Mex, cherry slurpees, cheese danish, and (of all things) coffee! Why that one surprises me is that I am a hardcore tea drinker. Like, tea house visiting, tea party throwing, scones and imitation clotted cream tea drinker. All coffee attempts from middle school through college resulted in headaches and heartburn, but add a dash of gestation and I'm consuming at least one decaf-half-milk-three-sugars a day. Like I said. Possessed. And now the espresso bean brownies have taken up the call. The only place I've ever had crave-worthy ones is through this corporate baking company we were given a gift from by another company after the successful completion of a project we were collaborating on. I guess it only takes one time for the taste to be ingrained in the memory bank. So tempting. They could even be delivered to my door if I didn't feel like trekking the 40 minutes to scour the nearest Whole Foods in a vain attempt to not look like a deranged pregnant woman on a mission.
My only gripe is why I couldn't be infused with some positive personality traits instead of being confined to the mentality of a food hoarding squirrel. Some optimism and patience would be welcome treat instead of the persistent call to the nearest Quick Chek. But, c'est la vie, I guess. And so here I sit, scrolling through baby names on the internet and trying to resist channeling Ashley Judd's character in Where the Heart Is by naming baby #3 something like Praline or Brownie. Mmmmm, brownies. Espresso bean brownies. Must. Stop. Thinking. About. Brownies.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Better Half

“The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along.” ~Jalal ad-Din Rumi

My husband was sent to me. This I believe wholeheartedly. God, fate, my mother, SOMEONE, up in the galaxy tilted the gravitational pull of the Earth and pulled him into the orbit of my life. One slow night after we first started dating, we actually tried mapping out all the different possibilities and ways we would have met, a 'la Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. I think we stopped around the thirteenth scenario because we started to get a little freaked out. Inevitable is a word that comes to mind when I think about us getting together. And I couldn't be more grateful for that.

Some people get insulted when their spouse or significant other is referred to as their "better half," but I'm a realist in my world, and will be the first one to affirm that term for him. He is the Roy Croft quote come to life; "I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you."
When I'm frustrated with a project and ready to throw it against a wall, he's the first one to pry it out of my hands so I can go take a breather before I do anything I'll regret later. When I'm wound up and angry, he knows how long to stay silent before offering a lame joke to break me out of my red haze. When the kids are making me climb the walls, he usually manages to pop in with a distraction so I can go hide in the stairwell and take deep breaths to get myself under control. And lately, when I'm depressed, he knows just how to hold me, or compliment me, or lean down and talk to the baby in my stomach, to get me to see the light again in the self-imposed rabbit hole I fall into. Even though somedays I feel like we're doing such a good job raising our little wildebeasts as a united front, and others it feels like a baton race, I never have to wonder who or where my partner is. He is all around me, keeping me up, watching my back, leading me on, and best of all, at my side. Coaxing me to enjoy the view.