One weekend morning, roughly half way through the pregnancy I woke up and got the urge. I had to clean everything in the house. I woke up every day for work about 6 a.m. anyway so this was about the time that my body just had to get the house clean. I was nesting. Prematurely I might add, because I didn’t do this much work on the house on any day the rest of the pregnancy.
The nesting urge was so strong that when I woke up I instantly went downstairs and began my tasks. I didn’t do anything else. I dusted everything on the lower floor of the house, the shelves, table, chairs, millwork around the windows, baseboards, fireplace, blinds and shutters. I washed all of the windows, mirrors, and the TV screen. Cleaned the fridge, cleaned the counters, cleaned the coffee and end tables. I vacuumed the couch and the floor. I swept, mopped and polished the hard woods. There was almost nothing that hadn’t been scrubbed.
10:45 a.m., one hour and 45 minutes after I began my task, I finally realized I was hungry. My pregnancy diet at this point had me limited to just a few things due to insane morning sickness. The only things I ever really ate were saltines, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fruit, egg salad sandwiches, and veggies. The smell of meat made me gag, Nick’s Lean Cuisine’s made me gag, well, let’s face it, I just couldn’t stop gagging.
We hadn’t been grocery shopping recently, but I knew I could find something. The thing my pregnancy cravings wanted most in the whole world at that moment was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We had that stuff. I’d seen it all during my cleaning escapades. Yay!
I get the bread and jam out then walk to the pantry to grab the peanut butter.
This feels a little light.
I unscrew the top of the jar and look inside to find nothing but tiny little remnants clinging to the sides.
I lost it.
Instantly I burst into tears. Huge, wracking sobs were coursing through my body. Keeping hold of the jar I went up the stairs and into the bedroom, banging the door open loudly.
I screamed at Nick, “Wake up!” *Sob, choke.* “How could you do this to me?!” Thrusting the jar of peanut butter toward him.
Nick was still basically asleep at this moment. There was mass confusion on his face as he stared at his dirty, sweaty, blubbering, accusing pregnant wife. “What? What did I do?”
“You *sob* ate *choke* the last *cough* of the *sob* peanut butter!!! And then you put it back!!! I thought I was going to have a sandwich!!!” I wailed. “You know I can only eat like 3 things! I spent all morning cleaning and I didn’t eat anything and then I was going to make a sandwich and now I can’t!!!!!!!” It’s at this point that I collapsed on the floor in a heap of gargantuan tears.
Nick was up and ready for action at this point, “I’m sorry. I’ll go get you more right now. I’ll get you anything you want. Just tell me what you need.”
I instantly hopped up off of the floor and screamed again, “NO!” Throwing the empty jar of my coveted substance onto the floor. “You will NOT go to the store to get me stuff. I’m starving to death RIGHT NOW!…” I paused, rethinking this stance, “Actually yes! You will go and get me all of my pregnancy foods, but I’m going to McDonald’s! Now I have to eat a McMuffin while I’m pregnant!” My hysteria ensued.
I grabbed my keys, hopped in the car, and still sobbing drove the 2 miles to the nearest fast food joint where I bought myself a McMuffin meal. The window ladies were probably terribly confused since I wasn’t showing enough to tell I was pregnant yet. Then I took a drive to the river and sat on a log while eating my breakfast. Luckily for Nick there were sea lions catching salmon and it was so highly amusing I was perfectly full and pleasant with lots of good stories to tell when I got home. And the kitchen was full to the top of all the pregnancy friendly goodies he’d just bought for me.
This story was not funny at all until now, post pregnancy. I wonder what sort of emotional shenanigans are in store for the next pregnancy?