Well. Yesterday was eventful.
I wasn’t in any shape to go to work so I took the day off, and after Adam got home for work we headed out for an anniversary/Annie-remembrance dinner.
Given the occasions, a nice restaurant would have been the appropriate choice. Especially a restaurant where I could have shown off all of my Annie-taught manners in fine style.
But unfortunately all that this pregnant lady wanted was a thick (veggie)burger and a chocolate milkshake. I’ve been wanting this meal for weeks - what seems like years- and tonight seemed like a good occasion to splurge.
After weighing the pros and cons of this decision, and mentally calculating just how many kajillion carbs this meal would involve (and how much I would be kicking myself in the subsequent post-meal guilt-fest to follow) I decided: “Damn the diabeetus. Just for this one night, damn the diabeetus right to hell”, and off we went.
I wasn’t just craving any old burger, but a specific burger from a specific restaurant that just so happened to be 45 minutes away. Adam was amazingly accommodating and drove there entirely without complaint and oh. my. god. Worth it.
WORTH IT! A million times worth it.
It’s sort of a make-your-own burger joint, where you pick a burger and then get to choose all the fixin’s too. I had a spicy lentil burger with spicy garlic mayo, tzatziki sauce, lettuce, tomatoes, red onions and PICKLES. ALL THE PICKLES!
These are not first-date burgers. These are messy, drippy, oozy, lick-your-fingers-after-every-bite burgers. These burgers have haunted my dreams forever and I don’t even eat meat! Imagine how amazing the meat burgers are?!
I wish I could eat them every day.
After licking the last of the tzatziki off of my fingers (Annie would have been appalled), I declared myself stuffed. We walked around town for a bit (well, Adam walked, I waddled. I now have that full on weeble-wobble pregnant walk, where I find myself swaying slightly side to side in between steps. It’s hot.)
But a funny thing happened. As we headed back to the car I suddenly wasn’t full anymore. I wanted that milkshake. A thick, delicious, cold, creamy chocolate milkshake.
Adam encouraged me to indulge “just this once” and so I did. (Damn the diabeetus to hell!) andI just got a small one and it was amazing, but I felt *so* guilty afterwards. The whole ride home I imagined my blood sugar skyrocketing and I sat in the passenger seat doing arm curls and leg lifts to try and negate its effects. If guilt could lower blood sugar I would have been hypoglycemic times a million. (It can’t. I’ve tried.)
Finally, I made Adam let me out 25 minutes from home so I could walk the rest of the way. The whole walk I felt horrible about that milkshake, why internets, why Demon Baby, WHY? Why do I suddenly crave chocolate ice cream so?
When we got home I tested my blood sugar and guys, it was FINE! I mean it was on the high end of fine (because, duh, I just had a burger and a milkshake) but not out of range, and definitely not high enough to warrant the deep cesspool of guilt and recrimination I’d been wallowing in.
So that was it. All in all, a pretty low-key day.
We didn’t feel much like celebrating to be honest, although I have seen a side to Adam in the past almost eight months that more than deserves to be celebrated, recognized, adored. Our marriage has grown and shifted and evolved more since I’ve been pregnant than I ever would have predicted, and it’s been incredible.
I completely forgot about my 31 week pregnancy update, and will try and do it at some point this week - it just got lost in more important things.
Tomorrow morning I’ll spend 5 hours at the hospital getting an IV infusion of magnesium for my kidney condition, and I am so SO looking forward to it, hopefully it will help with some of the fatigue I’ve been feeling.
And then, it’s life back to normal I guess.
Normal minus one.