No pickle is safe. I don’t remember buying pickles in such quantity or with quite the frequency that we are for surrobabe compared to our own pregnancies. But it is what it is, I guess. Too bad they are the sweet and spicy kind. A jar of dill spears? In the words of my four year old: that’s my JAM!!
Pickles aren’t the only dietary modification around here, let me tell you. For weeks now, Amanda has been in the thick of an all too reoccurring theme:
- Sees food item
- Needs food item
- Nice husband buys/picks up food item
- Takes way-too-excited first bite of food item
- Despises food item
- Hisses like vampire at food item
- Nice husband quickly pulls shades (just in case wife is a vampire) and offers kale or other non-meat alternative
- Wife stops hissing and eats a pickle
- Husband makes sure the pickles have not run out
Despite this utter madness kindly termed “pregnancy brain,” all is well. Baby is healthy and growing right on schedule. All appointments are good. We are all done with needles!! Naomi thinks her mother is a wonderful science experiment. Eva largely doesn’t care and just wants to go swimming. I buy more pickles.
#11w4d #teamsquish #liketeamedwardbutlessweird #andmoresquishy