It’s been over a month since I’ve last blogged anything and so I’m way over due.
The fact that my space key on the keyboard sticks and tendsnottoworkmakesitfeellikeeverythingisonebigrunonsentence.
Which isn’t really condusive to writing but I’ll make due.
So for those who missed various announcements before me and Squishy aka Dr. McnerdyNerdy aka the Hubbycakes left SF just a few weeks ago, I’ve started a new stint of clean living because I’m now, at this juncture, about 12 weeks preggers.
No caffeine, no booze, no cigarettes, no carbonated beverages, no sushi, no shellfish, no Desperate Housewives.
I’m talking totally and complete clean living. Whatever damage I’ve done to my body has been of my own volition in the past but I won’t have this kid, nicknamed “Giggle” be impacted at all by any choices that I make in consumption.
The kid, however, has some of his own ideas.
Giggle, in 12 weeks of being in-utero bundle of awesome, has clearly expressed some dietary preferences and opinions.
These are clearly influenced by the kid’s father who refers to”kilted man is human taco in wool shell”
Likes: Tacos, Doritos, Chocolate Icecream
Dislikes: Pretty much everything else.
Results: This week alone, I’ve consumed about 12 tacos. Homemade, at Reynas and even the Soft Tacos Supreme from Tacobell.
For those of you who know me, this is very unusual. I’m not the taco junkie my husband is. I don’t have company event Taco Tuesdays as an excuse to satisfy my guacamole and salsa habit. I’m a rice and meat grubbing gal who’s known as more of meat-tooth than a sweet-tooth and now I can’t settle in at night without a bowl of chocolate icecream. (I like Breyers.)
And I suppose it would be easier to handle this dietary adjustment if it would all stay down.
But alas no.
Nay.
Nix.
Nada.
I get the upchucks, near daily for the last 4 weeks. It happens not in the morning, but in the evening. Anytime between 7Pm and 3Am.
This has made it extremely difficult to manage social engagements, being out with friends, and trying to rally to find something that doesn’t smell like belly-acid-taco-choc0late-souffle-a-la-toilet-bowl that also doesn’t make me look unseemly with the belly sticking out.
Things that are most iritating about the evening sickness:
- The Smell. The taco/chocolate combo isn’t the worst while going down. But imagine it coming back up… and then…wait. pardon me a sec. Bathroom break.
- The Visuals. It really isn’t pretty. I’ll spare you a photo.
- The Splashback. On your face, clothing, and etc. High velocity projectile vomiting has quite a surprising radius of splashback.
- The irregularity of it. Unpredictable and a tremendous social hamper that makes you just wanna stay at home.
- The inability to medically address it. NO MEDS.
So yeah. Not the most fun, but I’m pretty sure that Giggle will be worth it.
Or I shall make him/her pay with guilt trips the rest of his/her life over the agony and inconvenience of it all. (I jest!)