Temporary Vegetarian

Every so often I end up in a discussion about pregnancy and how much it sucks.  I work in an office with almost all women.  A couple are a little younger than me and the rest are a bit older than me.  Those of us with kids (I'm the youngest with a kid, and Elly is SIGNIFICANTLY younger than the other people's kids) talk about what our experiences were when we were pregnant or in labor.

And these conversations remind me about the things I've pushed out of my mind a bit about being pregnant with Elly.  I haven't forgot these memories yet, hence one of the reasons I blog.  I don't want to forget all of the hell she put me through.

You see, I am a meat eater.  (Take that however you want you sick perv!) I enjoy a giant, medium-rare steak, I love sausage and bacon both for breakfast, and I love to eat turkey sandwiches.  A meal isn't complete without meat.  Without it, it's just a snack. 

That all changed when I became pregnant.  Aside from the fact that EVERYTHING made me blow chunks, meat especially did.  I couldn't walk past the meat counter in a grocery store unless I had my trusty "air sickness bag" with me.  (The grocery store as a whole was pretty dangerous grounds for me, but especially in the meat department.) 

I practically became a vegetarian.  I couldn't stand eating any kinds of beef, chicken, or pork.  And I couldn't eat too much fish (which I didn't want much of in the first place) because of whatever crazy science article I was reading that week and the effects of the fish on my baby.  (My policy was, why bother fucking the kid up in utero?  I needed to wait until the kid was fully baked and then I could start screwing it up... because, you know, it's always the mother's fault.)

It was so disappointing to not even be slightly interested in any of the things I loved to eat.  I actually lost weight before gaining weight while pregnant!  Who knew dividing cells into a new human being would be the best diet around?!?!?!

The only thing I could stand to eat was bacon bits on my pizza (which I ate nearly every other day).  No other meat could be found in my house. 

Fast forward 10 months and I'll wolf down a steak in 5 minutes flat.  I eat hamburger like it's going out of style.  And I pile on extra turkey on my sandwiches.  My herbivore days were just temporary.  THANK GOD!

But Elly, she's still a vegetarian.  No matter what we try to feed her by way of meat, she's not interested.  But that kid will horck down apples, lima beans, broccoli, and strawberries by the fistful.  If you don't speed it up while cutting up the kiwi she'll let you know she's not pleased.  But offer her a bit of pot roast and there's no touching it.  She instead works around the roast and eats the potatoes and carrots.  So for now she's a vegetarian.  (Don't worry, the dog's still a carnivore.  Elly share's the pot roast with the dog!)

I just hope she grows out of it.  I don't know if I could handle a meal without meat!

World of Wild Crafters

You know World of Warcraft? (Yeah, I don’t either. I've heard about it, but I really have no idea what it is...) Well, if you don't know about WoW, I'm almost sure you probably don't know about the WoWC!

WoWC is the World of Wild Crafters.  I know, you're thinking, how crazy could crafters be?  Other than the occasional hot glue gun accident or needle incident, there can't be too much to it, right?  WRONG!!!  The crafting world is filled with enough characters to write a spinoff of Harry Potter or Melrose Place (the original one). 

You've got your scrappbookers (they're a bunch of cutters), your cake and candy makers (they're usually my favorite because I never turn down food), floral arrangement ladies (I'm pretty sure they're all born in the spring and named April), wood workers (their slogan is "We do it against the grain"), painters and photographers (that's like a Hatfield and McCoy feud.  And the framers are stuck in the middle). 

There's the jewelry makers (who are easily distracted by all their shiny things) and the needle point girls (don't piss them off  unless you want a needle to the eye).  And don't forget the quilters out there.  (They are usually found in gangs they like to call guilds and they're like the Masons of Crafting.  Once you've made a rambling rose quilt with appliqué you reach the 33rd Degree and get a special ring.)

And then you have the knitters and crotcheter.  They're a tough crowd.  And you're usually one or the other.  No bi-craftials allowed!  (I don't consider myself bi-craftial.  Instead, I consider myself an ambassador between the two sides since I do both.) I know, I know.  You're thinking "Betty, I think you've finally cracked."  But honestly, this is serious business! 

You see, being a military spouse means you move around a lot just like your servicemember.  It's usually really hard to keep bouncing from job to job.  Not to mention the cost of day care is pretty much absurd.  So many wives find ways to keep themselves busy, and market their hobby as a means of extra income.  Shit, I'd do the same damn thing if I could.  I totally want to make money off of what I love to do, and was going to do anyway! (Isn't there a saying about if you're doing what you love then it's not really called work?)

Well, in the WoWC on a military base, you end up having many people that do very similar things.  It's inevitable.  It's not like there's one knitter or only one baker in the world.  I mean, we do live in America.  In case you didn't get the news flash, we support capitalism here (unless you're busy occupying Wall Street).

Turns out, when there's a little competition, some just can't handle it.  It's gotten so serious lately, people are starting to de-friend others!  I mean wow!  This is EXTREME!!!!  Whoever said crafters are a bunch of boring old ladies has no idea what they're talking about.  This shit is the makings of the next hit reality show!

And apparently the wives are involving the husbands as well.  When I told Stoofy about this, he scoffed. 

S: "You women find the most ridiculous things to bitch about.  You wanna know what those guys are saying? 'Dude, did your wife bitch at you when you got home? Yeah.  Me too.  Over crocheting? Yeah! FUCKING IDIOTS!'" 

When I explained this is serious business and there's now competition, he replied:

S: "Everybody's got somebody else!  McDonald's has Burger King.  PF Changs has Panda Express.  Everyone has competition.  Get over it!" (This is where I realized we’re both fat kids because we’re using food chains as an analogy.)

Me? Well everyone's got a blog in this world.  I just have to figure out what my gimmick is to keep hooking readers.  (Hahaha!  I said hooking! I'm now a pimp! You’re all my bitches!) Maybe if I can't hack it as a blogger I'll keep working on the script for my new pilot show Crochet Drama: Secrets of the WoWC.  Maybe Snooki would be available for the lead role?

Pumkin Pie and Jail Time

Fall is by far my favorite time of year.  I love the cooler weather, the clothes, the sights and sounds, and most importantly I LOVE the food.  Fall food means the best of the best: squash, pumpkin anything, apple pies, and the big kahuna: THANKSGIVING DINNER! It's like a fat kid's delight! 

And this time of year brings back a very strong memory for me.  It's something that I did about this time last year.  I'd like to say it wasn't me, but then it wouldn't make for a very funny blog.  It's a little something involving pumpkin pie, my hormonal rage, and me... nearly beating a woman up and a punk-ass teenager. 

About this time last year I was about 4 months pregnant.  I had cravings, but my cravings consisted of people who had food needed to leave my smelling radius because everything made me want to puke.  I was sick nearly every day until about the 6 month mark.  So the fact that one night I even got an actual craving that wouldn't pass after the thought of it made me dry-heave was a little extraordinary!

It was after 10pm and Abby had just left to go back to her place.  Stoofy was in Kuwait in the midst of his contract out there.  So I was on my own and I needed pumpkin pie.  And I mean NEEDED it!

So I climbed into bed thinking, I can let this pass.  If I fall asleep, I won't want it anymore and I'll be fine.  That lasted all of 5 minutes and then I climbed out of bed, put on something decent to go out in and hopped into my car.  I was on the hunt for fresh baked pumpkin pie.

I knew that being the end of September meant there would be pumpkin pie available. (It’s fall time for God’s sake!) I knew exactly what store would have it too.  Harris Teeter.  Because I had been there the day before and saw the pies lined up for display at the front of the store. 

At 10:10PM I arrive at HT and walk through the door.  I can't wait to get to the pies all sitting there waiting for me to snatch up and eat on the car ride home.  Except when I got there, they were out of pumpkin pies.  They had sweet potato pie, but everyone knows that's totally different.  Even if you smear it with whipped cream, I knew I would be able to tell the difference.

So I scoured the rest of the store.  I went through every pie in the bakery section.  Checked behind random loaves of bread just in case some jerk tried to hide one for themselves until they got off shift.  I'd show that asshole!  But alas, there was no pie.  I checked the freezer section thinking, ok I'll just find myself a Sarah Lee and pop it in the oven.  That bitch creates pies that take an HOUR to bake! Uh, I needed my pie fix immediately!

What's a hormonal pregnant woman to do?  Search the store and buy cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning, juice and lemon poppy seed muffins because they've got the best ones.  And that'll hold me over until I get to the next store.  I did pass the baking section and thought, damn, it'll take too long to bake my own pie.  I'll just go to Giant and get a pie there.

As I check out, the cashier asks if I found everything ok.  Uh no, you do you have any pumpkin pies left in the back? I'm seriously craving them and I want one. 

And the pimple-faced douche bag bagger turns to me and says, "I bought the last ones about an hour ago.  (ha ha) If you want a slice I'll sell you one in an hour when I go on my break. (HAHAHAHA)."

To which I respond, "Listen here you fucking asshole, I'm pregnant and I want a fucking pie now.  Don't be a prick and tease me."

I quickly paid and left the store before the manager, who was headed my way, could escort me out. 

Now I'm just pissed! I want a fucking pie and if I could figure out which car was that kid's I'd consider breaking in for a slice.  Then I decide going to jail tonight wasn't going to be the best decision... so on to the next store.

10:35PM- I arrive at Giant and make a beeline to the bakery section.  I leave no slice of pie unturned in my quest for pumpkin.  They've got cherry, apple, sweet potato, pretty much everything but pumpkin.  And nothing is going to do until I get a slice of pumpkin.  So I start sprinting (as fast as a pregnant woman can go) to the freezer section hoping I can find a pie that doesn't take an hour to bake.  But as I get to the freezer section I start to search people's carts as I pass them, hoping to find my pot of gold.

Low and behold, I do!  There is a woman with a pumpkin pie in her cart.  So I rush up to her in a panicked frenzy and ask her (in my mind it was with good, friendly intentions.  It came across as scary and abrasive) if I can have her pumpkin pie.  She says no.

I explain to her I am pregnant and I really NEED that pie.

She says no.

I dig in my purse, pull out a $20 and start shouting I'LL GIVE YOU $20 IF YOU GIVE ME THAT PIE! I'M FUCKING PREGNANT AND I NEED THAT FUCKING PIE!

She starts to walk away scared.  I take a few steps after her yelling... it did me no good.

Back to the freezer section.  And yes, they do have pies that take only 25 minutes to bake... but they’re all out.  I'm nearly in tears and I want to scream at the top of my lungs (which I already had at the woman with the pie). 

I storm back out of the store feeling defeated.  But across the street I see the hazing red light of a bulls eye sign.  FUCK YEAH! Target is open until 11PM tonight!  And it's only 10:50!!!!  I zip across the street and throw it into park.

I don't think I've ever hustled as fast as I did to get into the store.

I run to the freezer section and find a pumpkin pie, and it only takes 25 minutes to bake!  FINALLY, VICTORY IS MINE!!!  But it's a bittersweet victory.  Because deep down I know it's not going to be a great pie.  I know that with the time it took to track down this pie, I could have baked one in my house already and be sitting in my bed with a warm slice topped with crumb topping like I like and a dollop of whip cream on top.  But I don't fucking care.  I just want the pie.

So I purchase the pie (and vanilla ice cream… ala mode, DUH!), speed home and throw that sucker into the oven.  25 minutes later (plus the time it took to preheat the oven and the time it took to cool and set), I dish up my pie slice and dig in.  Only to find that it sucks just as much as I knew it would.

I go to bed even more pissed and in tears that I didn't have good pie, that I nearly accosted a woman and teenage kid.  And I'm even more pissed that I didn't just buy the ingredients and make my own pie.  Because now that it’s nearly midnight, going back to the store to buy the ingredients and bake another pie is just flat out CRAZY!!!!

Lesson learned: when you have a craving, it's just easier to make it yourself.  And it's less likely to get you arrested. 

A Spoonful of Slop

Tonight Elly hit another exciting milestone: eating soupy food from a spoon!

I was trying to hold off just a little while longer, but she wasn't having it. Whenever she reaches the end of a bottle she gets upset and wants more.

She's her mother's child.

I mean, who doesn't get disappointed when they polish off an IHOP pancake combo meal with pancakes, eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and sausage? And when you're faced with that situation and feeling exceptionally gluttonous? Well of course you drive through Checkers next door and get a milkshake and fries!

(Let me add that I didn't eat anything else that day. And I made sure to eat salad the next day. Please don't report me to Child Protective Services as a terrible nursing mom! And let me also add that I wasn't alone in my fat-fest, Abby and our friend Fabz joined us and we had just attended a friend's funeral so we needed comfort food. Yes, I'm trying to rationalize eating my weight in pancakes. I'd prefer if you don't judge me, but I'll understand if you do.)

So of course I can't hold it against my own daughter when she wants more food. Turns out, she LOVES food! SHOCKING!!!

It wasn't anything special, oatmeal, expressed milk and a little pureed prunes to add a nice, non-binding flavor. And she just couldn't get the spoon in her mouth fast enough!

She kept reaching out, grabbing the spoon and shoveling her slop into her mouth. She was excited and impatient because I wasn't shoveling fast enough! Obviously I've been hold her back from the good stuff all her life.

And even though she was ecstatic, I was through the roof, but a little sad. Because she's now onto the good stuff. I get to watch her experience new tastes and textures. But I've also got my work cut out for me.

Because just when I thought the oatmeal in the bottle couldn't cause a more disgusting outcome, I've realized this is only going to make things worse. Talk about a five-alarm diaper change!

All because I started adding a spoonful of slop to my daughter's diet. Awesome!


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