out of Kadesh

1. I momentarily forgot how to spell Tuesday.

2. I had a craving for Chick-Fil-A.

3. I ate Chick-Fil-A.

4. I felt guilty for eating Chick-Fil-A.

5. I listened to Adele and Justin Timberlake on Spotify.

6. I put a pot of chickpeas on the stove to boil.

7. I took the dog on a long walk with my two favorite boys.

8. We stopped at Ugly Mugs on the way home for a pumpkin latte (and a blackberry Italian cream soda and juice, respectively).

9. We sat outside for almost 30 seconds before mosquitos started trying to bite my ass. THROUGH MY PANTS.

10. Lance said, “Haa haa I can see your under-wearrr” in a singsong voice. I said, “What!?” He said, “You have a hole in your yoga pants. You’re wearing bright green underwear.” I said, “I just stood in line at the coffee shop with a huge hole in my pants! …Awesome.”

11. We stepped back in the house and it smelled like horribly scorched chickpeas.

12. I put a pot full of scorched-to-hell chickpeas on the back patio.

13. I opened all the windows and turned on all the fans.

14. I mourned the loss of the hummus I was looking forward to.

15. I sat on the toilet while Noah sat on his potty. Nothing happened for either of us.

16. I taught Noah the sprinkler dance.

17. I took a nap.

18. I snoozed my alarm.

19. I snoozed my alarm.

20. I snoozed my alarm.

21. I drug my ass out of bed.

22. I did a bunch of work for the theatre.

23. I contemplated how much more work I need to do for the theatre.

24. I fed Noah a snack of yogurt and strawberries.

25. I realized the yogurt expired on September 8.

26. It smelled fine so I put it back in the fridge. I figured, it’s yogurt, right?

27. I procrastinated making dinner until 5:45.

28. I finally got up and started dinner.

Monday – Cajun chicken pasta, salad

Tuesday – Lentil-ricotta ball sub sandwiches with homemade marinara and provolone, broccoli

Wednesday – Black bean, pepper, and sweet potato chili, leftover bread from subs

Thursday – Baked lemon-pepper chicken, summer couscous salad

Friday – Black bean burritos, guacamole

Last night, we went out to dinner. It’s usually a cold day in hell when we go out for dinner, because at the end of the day the Bubbs is like I AM DONE WITH EVERYTHING, but we decided to walk down the street on this glorious night and get dinner. Only when we got down our front steps and started passing our car, Noah stopped walking, put his hand on the car, and said, “GO.” And we were all, “But BUBBS it’s such a nice NIGHT and we should get some exercise, and it’s so CLOSE and it’ll be so FUN and let’s just WALK.” And he was all, “GO.” And then when we tried to move him away from the car he dug his heels in and he was like, “Gooooo, GOOO! GOOOOOOOOO!”

So we put him in his car seat and drove a quarter of a mile to get dinner. It’s like we’re fat people from East Tennessee. But we figured, Hell, if you feel that strongly about it…

We ordered fajitas, and at this restaurant you can order any fajitas “with portabello mushrooms”. I would never have considered getting mushrooms on, oh, ANYTHING before I had Noah, but, enter WEIRDEST KID EVER. Noah LOVES mushrooms. WTF? So we ordered mushrooms and guacamole, which Noah gorged himself on, while Lance and I shared a normal meal.

While we’re sitting there enjoying the nice weather on the patio, FOUR police cars pass, and Noah’s face, I swear, told us that one day, he’s going to steal one of those cars just so he can run the siren at all times at full blast. Seriously, it was the highlight of his life. Last week we took him to the Aquarium in Gatlinburg for $26 a person, but all we needed to do was take him to the ghetto where the cops are sure to be flashing their lights and blaring their sirens. It’d be more dangerous, but it’d be FREE!

Then comes the best part of my night. Flying down the street was a chopper with purple ground effects, blasting music on its stereo. Not just ANY music, mind you. Dude was playing “Empire State of Mind”. Alicia Keys. Purple-lit motorcycle. I mean that shit takes balls. It was SO. AWESOME.

And that is why we love it in East Nashville.

I’m starting to feel better. I’m starting to feel less like I’m going to barf if you mention the word “garlic” or if I enter my kitchen. I’m starting to feel less dependent on ginger ale and crackers. I’m starting to be able to think about food again without running, gagging, to the toilet. I’m starting to be able to make menus again and go shopping at the grocery store without having to pause and hold on to the cart for support after passing the lettuce. I’m starting to be able to cook again, and enjoy it. It’s been a GREAT WEEK. To celebrate, I’m making TWO new recipes this week (links below), as opposed to one. Hooray, food!

Also, since I was about six weeks pregnant, I’ve started eating a little bit of chicken again. It was something I had weird cravings for, so I decided to listen to my body and pack in the protein.

Monday: “Mexico City” cous cous salad with goat cheese (idea stolen from Silly Goose), guacamole
Tuesday: Chicken pot pie, fresh fruit salad
Wednesday: Homemade spinach ravioli with marinara sauce, salad
Thursday: Baked potato soup, jalapeno cheese bread
Friday: Chicken tacos, rice

1. Cracking eggs. Cool chefs crack eggs with one hand. I crack eggs with two hands, and I have to bang it on the side of the bowl like seven times, and I always, ALWAYS get part of the shell in the batter, and then I go cross-eyed trying to fish it out. If a recipe calls for more than two eggs? Forget it, I’ll find another recipe.

2. Driving. The other day I was driving without Noah, and I’ve noticed that I make so many more careless mistakes when he’s not with me. I was getting really annoyed at all the other stupid Nashville drivers who were cutting me off, making me slam on my brakes, not getting over so I could merge, etc., and as I muttered to myself, “What the heck is wrong with all these idiots today?” I heard a HOOOONK from the lane I had just entered, and I looked back and realized that, while distracting myself by thinking about how stupid everyone was, I had almost killed some dude I hadn’t seen. Boy, did I feel sheepish. When I told Lance about it he laughed and said “Pride cometh before…” (But he couldn’t finish the rest because my foot was up his ass.)

3. Exercising. I know I need to exercise. I know it’s good for me, good for the baby, will make my labor easier, will help me get back in shape faster after birth, etc. But I’ma be honest, y’all. I’d rather sit on my ass and eat a pumpkin muffin and sip a latte. Or take a nap.

4. Correspondance. I love you, dear friends, I truly do. Lack of love is not the reason I haven’t gotten in touch with you. Lack of memory, time, energy… maybe. But not lack of love.

5. Eating a healthy amount. Make a fist. Did you know that’s approximately how big your stomach is? At every sitting, you should be eating about that much. Now grab a basketball. That’s about how much I eat. And that was before I got knocked up.

6. Swallowing pills. When I first met Lance, he could swallow 11 vitamins at one time. ELEVEN! VITAMINS! Those suckers are HUGE! I’m taking three prenatal vitamins a day, and I have to psyche myself up to do it every time. And then I usually gag and choke and spit it back out into my hand, and then it’s all mushy and disgusting and I have to throw it away and start all over again.

7. Saving money. When I have money, I want to spend it. I burns a hole in my pocket until I’ve wasted it all like the prodigal son. And then I feel bad that I didn’t spend it on something better, like homeless shelters in Nashville or at blood:water or something. As a result, we still have credit card debt that just sits there, and no savings. Sorry, Noah, I hope you didn’t want to go to college. Mommy needs a new eye pencil. And look at this new lip gloss! And real quick, let’s go look at the shoes. And hey, is that a grand piano?

8. Finishing projects. To date I have a quarter of a children’s book and half a play written. I have fabric to make a quilt for Noah that’s been sitting on top of my sewing machine for about three months. I have fabric for pillow cases cut out and they are sitting on top of the other fabric that is sitting on top of my sewing machine. I am in the middle of six books. I have had this blog post sitting on my screen for the past four days.

9. Using time wisely. This goes with #8, of course. I say I don’t have time, but the truth is I just haven’t TAKEN the time to do the things I need to do. Like finishing those projects. Or calling you back. Or sending my grandparents more pictures of Noah. Or exercising. The TRUTH is… I’m taking a nap.

10. Video games. I just really can’t do them.

And by “the whole story,” don’t worry. I’m not going to tell you that I came out of the bathroom wearing lingerie and I had shaved my legs for the first time all summer. And no, I’m not going to tell you that I’d been tracking my periods so I didn’t have to take hormone pills as birth control. No, I’m not going to tell you how in that crucial moment, I whispered the words that every man wants to hear: “It’s cool, baby, I’m not ovulating! Don’t worry about a condom. IT’S FINE.” I’m not even going to describe to you the haste with which Lance tossed the wrapped condom aside and how he even almost completed the whole question: “Are you sure?” Yeah, so don’t worry, because I’m not going to tell you any of that.

(p.s. “The Rhythm Method.” Otherwise known as, my friend Amy told me, “Parents.”)

What I AM going to tell you is that all of this is Noah’s fault.

Ever since he was born… LITERALLY, since my water broke while we were trying to have sexy pregnant sex… every time Lance and I started giving each other, you know, the look, Noah has been there to put a quick stop to it. If I even THINK about my husband in a husband-and-wifely-duties-type-way, or if Lance like, throws the merest of glances at my boobs, Noah is suddenly awake, alert, around… whatever. It was so uncanny that Lance started calling it “Operation Prevent Siblings.” Which was very amusing since, of course, he was NOT going to be having siblings because we were NOT going to let Lance’s sperm anywhere NEAR my egg. (p.s. A brand new study proves that wearing a condom helps with that…)

People would ask me when we were having another one, and I’d be all, Maybe when this one learns to sleep. Which I have given up hope on happening before he becomes a teenager. Because y’all. I haven’t slept in TWO YEARS. My plan was to sleep for a full year with no interruptions before even THINKING about Number 2. No way was I about to get myself knocked up. NO. WAY. (p.s. CONDOM!)

It’s Noah’s fault though, because he slept while he was on the job THAT ONE TIME. And just like that, “Operation Prevent Siblings” failed. I don’t know what this means for his future assignments, but it does not look good.

After the initial shock wore off, though, I started feeling excited. And happy. And scared out of my mind. And so stupid. And really, really happy. This is gonna be great, you guys. My Bubbs is going to be the best big brother ever. I’m really excited. And scared happy. Did I mention happy?

But still. Today Lance told me, “You know I’m never going to believe you when you tell me I don’t have to wear a condom again, don’t you?” And I was all, “Are you kidding? I’m not even letting you NEAR me with that evil Pregnancy-Maker of yours until after the Vasectomy.”