Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly and danny.

Oh, hello, pregnancy hormones!  How i’ve missed you!  And nothing like a grand entrance, to really kick things off.  Now that all three of my male readers are gone (though i must tell you, there is useful information to be found within this post) here’s what happened:  Joey came home (yeah, a lot of hormone stories start that way for me…I dunno), the new owner of an Apple TV.  Something about it will replace the black XBox.  (not the white XBox, it’s just on loan from work, duh.)  Anyway, he used his Best Buy gift card he’s been sitting on for months, finally, and bought himself something he really wanted.  Great.  It didn’t cost any real money, he wanted it, terrific.  And Ben and Jerry’s was giving away ice cream cones on Tuesday if you told them you voted.  See how those two things work together?  Yeah, he didn’t either.  I guess i had it in my mind that even though the closest Ben and Jerry’s is at least 20 minutes away at that one mall that got shot up that one time just as danny and I sat down to a chicken salad sandwich, still, for fun, I’d get a free ice cream cone.  You know, Election Day!  etc.  But, since he said that it clearly wasn’t worth the drive to go get a free ice cream (he was right, of course), I decided I’d be a big person and settle for something closer.  Anything closer.  McDonald’s, Bruster’s, just somewheres with hot fudge.  Yeah, no.  Because i don’t know if this ever happens at your house, but sometimes at our house, we have this ‘we have to stop spending money’ conversation.  Like the night before this whole quickly-escalating disaster, for example.  So, though the ice cream expedition would have had a minimal cost associated with it, it was a cost nonetheless, and an optional and unnecessary one at that.  So.  Being a rational, male, non-pregnant owner of a fancy and expensive new toy, Joey said ‘how about we don’t.’  Or something like that.  And then I was overtaken by the phantom aroma of hawaiian rolls.  You still with me?  I wouldn’t know where logically to put a paragraph break in this mother, so I think we’ll go with here.  If you’re feeling invested, bear with me.  Pause.  Take a breath.  Grab a snack.  Might i suggest hawaiian rolls?

So now I’m pissed, and he’s pissed that I’m pissed, and we don’t have any hawaiian rolls, nor anything remotely similar.  And he doesn’t even know that hawaiian rolls are involved yet, because I’m just alternately pouting and crying.  Certainly not speaking to him or telling him what the problem is, how it could be fixed, what would save him from this hormonal hell he finds himself swimming in.  Which was hawaiian rolls, of course.  But.  That information was not divulged until a bath and four Curious Georges later.  Also, my grandmother called, and when I burst into tears as I pressed the ignore button because how could I not answer the phone when my grandmother who never calls was calling me?  What if she never called me again?  What if I never spoke to her again?  Still, even with these thoughts, I could not answer the phone.  (She was calling to invite us to Thanksgiving dinner, my voicemail tells me.  She calls every year to invite us, and every year we decline and go to Joey’s grandmother’s.  Wonder if NaNa is developing a complex about it.  Doubtful.)  Anyway, this is when I first know that I have completely lost control of rational thought, and I’ll just have to tell him all the irrational ones and hope that he brings me some hawaiian rolls.  He did.  And I think he actually had fun going on his first my-pregnant-wife-has-lost-her-damn-mind food run.  Yes, that’s right, the first.  I pretended to be able to control myself for the entire first pregnancy.  Yeah, I dunno what I was thinking.  Hawaiian rolls are good, especially when hand-delivered by a handsome man in order to help you recover your damn mind.

***Editorial note:  this is also the post in which I grew up and started using capital letters.  The handsome man said my writing is hard to read without them.  I will hold onto my sentence fragments and overuse of parentheses until the bitter end, though, dammit.***