I Moved, I Saw, I Have Not Yet Conquered...

I have been utterly absorbed in my move.

Life has revolved around packing tape, cardboard boxes, lost utility knives, and furniture assembly.

Throw in a little falling-down-the-stairs action and chasing-the-dog-up-slippery-rocks-while-too-pregnant action, and you've got yourself my existence since the start of February.

I had sort of felt invigorated and ready to write lots again after you and I had that chat about my not being sure of what to write about. Then the move came and bitch-slapped me onto my (growing) ass.

The new house has stairs. Lots of them. Some more slippery than others. But at least my glutes are finally getting some exercise (unless eating ice cream bars counts as ass exercises? No?)

I had taken lots of pictures of random things to share with you, but now all I can focus on is the 1,405 loads of laundry that need to be done to wash the musty smell of two houses ago out, along with the moldy death smell of the last house. I can set the load up with my eyes closed, source the Tide and the Borax, and haul shit up and down two full flights like a champ.

Unrelated - don't try to run down stairs with your eyes closed.

Oh, right, and I'm not supposed to be lifting anything at all.

Anyway, just felt the need to assure you all once again that I am still alive, just terribly distracted and terribly tired.

What's new with you?
Know of any ice-cream related ass exercises you'd care to share? You know, ones that involve eating the ice cream?

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Defcon Level Food Whore

I had been trying to deny it for some time.

I hadn't looked my situation on, straight in the face.

Unless said face had mashed potatoes dripping from its chin. Or maybe some milkshake. OR BOTH.

For years, as many of you already know, I've struggled with horrific nausea. I can't eat wheat without rotten consequences and Guinness-book world record level bloating. Dairy sometimes hits the "undo" button immediately after ingestion. Sometimes it sits okay, I just don't feel great. Food is a struggle. Sometimes I would eat far too much for too long, other times I was eating far too little for too long.

The first three months of pregnancy were horrific for me. Between the fatigue (couldn't do a half set of stairs without crying, usually) and the extreme nausea, I was a weak and thin shell. A weak shell with a mad carbohydrate craving. If I did eat, I had one insane, unavoidable craving and I had to give in to it or else I was the most miserable bitch ever. And I could only seem to eat after 7pm.

Then - the second trimester started. It was rough at first, and it still has many-a-challenge... but one MAJOR shift has taken place.

ALL I THINK ABOUT IS FOOD NOW. ALL.THE.TIME.

Classy shit like this should only comfort others and reinforce that Imma be a great mom! HA!

When I am out of the house, in the car, I am inventory-ing every single goddamn fast food place I pass, envisioning a food (or foods) that would really hit the spot. I will tune out conversation. I will not hear the dialogue on the radio. I will briefly consider the lack of nutritional value, then give myself a free pass because, you know, BABY.

I'm bringing the hubs down with me. He has no excuse for his newly-acquired horrific eating habits, except for the obvious Not-Wanting-To-Deal-With-A-Whiny-Hungry-Determined-Pregnant-Wife. He's a trooper.

But I am dragging him down this Skittles-streaked ditch with me. We're leaving trails of melted ice cream and Orange Julius fruit smoothies on our heels.

If I agree to go out somewhere, I am already mapping out what food places we pass, what I can get on the way home, and then I fixate on it like nobody's business. I recently went to Maui (more on that later) and the size of my carry-on shoulder bag was impressive. It was comprised of approximately 90% food products and 10% reading materials. I even planned for the return flight.

I am not myself. I am achy, tired, creeped out, sluggish, inactive and overwhelmed. But I won't be swayed, oh no.

Even the most severe constipation can't slow me down. Well, okay, yes it can. And actually literally DOES. But I will continue to stuff food into my stomach even when my brain is screaming "STOP, You CRAZY Bitch!"

I can now admit it: I am an utter food whore.

I'd type more, but this cherry applesauce is staring me down. Hey, at least it has carrot in it. 
I think.

I plan to inhale it after I finish my vanilla milkshake. Though, actually, I just realized that my sweet potato fries are getting cold... and where the hell did I put the ketchup??

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