Currently staring at my husband's back, as he logs in to something on his work computer as if I'm burning holes through his shirt as he just told me he was going to get me Coldstone Creamery because I said "I'd die for ice cream", and now he's logging into his work computer? GO BITCH! ICE CREAM NOW! I'd like to say I'm joking, but, it's literally taking every bit of will power I have right now (which is none, which is why I'm getting Coldstone for no good reason other than wanting it) not to ask him why the eff he hasn't already started driving to Tim Hortons...
Phew. No nagging, bitchiness, necessary. He moved, he's up. He's getting the wallet. WOOT WOOT.
This is another pregnancy obsessive food thought response as, just yesterday, we had Cows ice cream which is the best... and led to a fight because, of course, there was a HUGE line up which I volunteered to wait in while daddy walked around with Jane... mostly because I couldn't decide which flavour I wanted or whether I wanted one scoop or two. So, Jane said she wanted "pink" ice cream. Well, the back story is that Jane wasn't all too happy about leaving the house in the first place so she was in that in-between stage, you know? Like right on the border of being well behaved and TOTAL MELT DOWN IN PUBLIC. So, I was getting the child some pink freakin' ice cream because, while I'm NOT all about giving the child whatever she wants, I am all about conflict-control... and what stupid parent in their right mind brings a child vanilla when she said she wanted PINK AWWS-CWEAM! The only pink ice cream they have is strawberry sorbet... SHIT. Dilemma in the middle of cows line-up with 400 people behind me and pressure is on. I stick with the pink.
Well, Jane was fine. Because she wanted Daddy's vanilla ice cream... thankfully, as if we were destined to be soul-mate-mother-daughter-friends-for-life, she has no interest in my gooie-mooie. So Daddy throws the tantrum instead. So, I offer him my ice cream as he doesn't like the pink ice cream either and, although I'd much rather my vanilla ice cream with chocolate, caramel and praline pieces in it, I take the stupid pink ice cream. Bletch. Mom's sacrifice for the greater good always, don't we? Well, after he eats like half my ice cream, Dan says he's going to go get another vanilla because he doesn't like it... so we're already grumpy with each other because we can't, obviously, be pissed at Jane for eating his ice cream, and now I'm even more pissed cause the doucheball ate half my ice cream and doesn't even like it... :p In the end, Jane ended up giving up halfway through daddy's vanilla and all were slightly happy.
That was the long way of telling you that I've had ice cream on the brain since finishing half of gooie-mooie yesterday... which, BTW, I only got the single scoop which I'm just realizing was the biggest error, perhaps, of all as I would have happily shared with Dan had I gotten the double scoop. AND, screw that altogether, because had I gotten the double scoop, I would definitely have gotten Dan the double scoop too (because I'm not looking like a heifer preggers chick) which means, Jane would have eaten just enough that Dan could have still had a full ice cream. ARGH! See. Life lesson: ALWAYS GET THE DOUBLE SCOOP!
On another bright note, we got an air conditioner for our bedroom today. HALLELUJAH! I'm hoping-n-praying I sleep tonight as I've been cremating lately and it ain't helping with the pregnancy insomnia, the grumpiness, the eating, the face issues, anything. I've said it before... I have the eating-disaster-trifecta... I eat when I'm tired. I eat when I'm stressed. I eat when I'm bored. Which means, people, I'm ALWAYS EATING. :)
Wishing you a night of calorie-rich unnecessary foods and hoping if you're pregnant, and reading this, I've given you pregnancy food obsessive thoughts about ice cream so you can now join me in "going down" as Dan said he's not interested... which made me hate him just a little bit but I wanted ice cream too much to fold at that point over pride.