My pregnant self has the same cravings as my 17 year old self.

And to whatever stoner who was on the marketing team responsible for creating this Munchies Cheese Fix blend of amazingness, THANK YOU for being a pothead and THANK YOU for creating what I believe to be the ultimate in snack nirvana. I knew it would be one of you that achieved snacking greatness. Way to go, kids. Way to go.

Also shown: my super kickass mousepad, which was a Christmas prezzie from my pal Jackie.

The combination is obscene.

Oh heyyyyy girl, hey. Remember that one time I told you that story about how we all got the flu and it was the worst four consecutive days in our family's existence? Oh, and remember how then then next day I told you I was also pregnant and feeling like a dumpster fire 24/7?

Oh yeah, put THAT brilliant combination together and make it tango.

What I'm saying is that even when I was feeling better, I wasn't feeling better. The upside to this parade of vomit and nausea is that I haven't gained an ounce in 11 weeks, and baby is doing just fine. The downside is that my current existence and nutrition is totally dependent on buttered toast, Teddy Grahams and water.

But then, in a moment of glory, the other night for dinner I HAD to have a crispy chicken sandwich. Eegads! Food! Sounding delicious! Must. Get. Some. Now. Like, some crispy chicken sandwich magic maker probably should have just delivered it to me in 2.9 seconds with a side of light mayo and fries a-la the freaky fast Jimmy John's commercials. But no, we had to driiiiiiive to Red Robin, where they do make a delicious crispy sandwich and as an added bonus offer bottomless steak fries. Word.

But then, as we pulled into the parking lot and curses if you wouldn't imagine it, CRISPY CHICKEN SANDWICHES ARE NOW MADE BY THE DEVIL. I shall never eat again! More toast! Begone, chickens of the world!

This is my life. In rare, glorious moments, some foods sound amazing and I must have them immediately. But in the time lapse it takes to actually get said food that is not a Teddy Graham to my mouth, something goes horribly wrong and my body denies its very existence and tells my brain that it's made of poison and will likely a) kill me; 2) give me a real show of the gags; and/or c) ruin my life. Or quite possibly a combination of all three.

Because, no. Just no. I like food too much for all this to even be real. 2nd trimester feelings of Super Mom, pleasepleaseplease come soon!

Exciting Recent Life Events.

1. We moved Alex's crib down a notch this weekend. It was a strange reminder that he's growing faster than we ever thought imaginable, but totally necessary if we are to avert the reality of waking up and finding him running crawling wild through the house like a party animal.

2. Panera no longer carries their decadent double chocolate cookies. Those cookies were the only thing I craved when I was PG, well, except for the random 2 times I really, really, really, really wanted a tuna fish sammitch. So, I guess Panera has made the decision for us. We will be a family of three for all of eternity. I simply cannot go through another pregnancy without those cookies.

3. I'm quite sure I've performed a triple Salchow (also announced by Brian Boitano as a "sow cow") on the whole driving to CT thing. Meaning I've completely changed my mind. We'll be flying now. Why, you ask? Because yesterday when I told Joe it was 12 hours (not the 8 he thought), he immediately threw his wallet at me and told me to book the tickets. Travelocity, here I come!

I'm Getting A Pedometer.

It's no secret that I work in a relatively large corporate office - on a "campus" of 3 buildings.

The loo on my floor is on the other side of the building. I visit it no less than 3x an hour.

I also visit the other 2 buildings regularly for business meetings and personal shenanigans. For instance, I'm headed over to the "main" building in about 5 minutes to drop something off for a friend (Hi, Beth!). There and back is a solid 1/4 mile. Probably farther if I take the underground tunnel system (I know...cool, right?)

SCRATCH THAT.

Beth totally just appeared at MY desk...with an ICE CREAM SANDWICH!!!!!!!

I adore her.

But now I really need that pedometer to walk off the ice cream.

An Open Letter.

Dear whoever invented the Wendy's Frosty mix-in concoction (specifically, the Oreo):

You are a freakin' genius and I adore you.

Love,
Kristi

P.S. - I would also like to thank the local Muskegon Wendy's manager for keeping the drive-thru open past 11 p.m. Thanks, pal!