The past four weeks have been full of exciting pregnancy cravings. There has been, of course, the requisite pickles and ice cream, grilled cheese sandwiches with mayo, toast with more butter than the human heart can handle, French fries, meatballs, and so many more. Two nights ago, I sent my husband out at 10:30 at night for egg drop and wonton soup. I ate the egg drop, and planned on eating the wonton the next day. So yesterday, I walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for the wonton soup in the fridge, only to find hubby finishing off the last of an entire quart of it. Needless to say, he soon found himself back at the Chinese takeout to replace the soup.
As you might be able to tell, I am of the belief that men have two jobs during pregnancy: foot rubbing and craving fulfillment. My husband is a pro at both, as he has generally acknowledged that he certainly does not envy MY jobs during pregnancy. This is the wonderful man who shows up with brownies and sugar free pudding cups, and knows to call me before he heads home each day to see if there is something I can't live without. Because if he doesn't call me, I'm likely to email him at work in a panic because I have to have salt and vinegar potato chips NOW!
But tonight I was faced with a dilemma. Facebook is quite often a source for craving ideas, as many of my friends are pregnant and we share what we're eating with the online world. This time, however, it was one of my guy friends who mentioned cheese yesterday evening. I thought, "Hm, I could really go for some colby jack, but it's 11 o'clock at night. It can wait until Monday." Except it couldn't. The craving grew from wanting colby jack to craving a full fruit and cheese platter with all of my favorite things.
My husband, talented as he may be at craving fulfillment, blinked at me when I said I wanted cheese. He does not have the cheese knowledge that was needed for this particular yen. I awoke from a nap this afternoon, half-conscious and crazy eyed, and knew I NEEDED cheese. I threw on jeans and a sweater and headed for the door. Jerry once again blinked. He did not understand this concept of me leaving the house to get what I was craving. He was used to doing it for me, and I almost think I messed with his comfort zone a little. But, good husband that he is, he moved his car out of the way and laughed as I set out on my pilgrimage.
Publix was heaven this late at night. I wandered the aisles with my basket and pondered the combinations. First was colby jack and swiss, the store brand because they're not bad and Sam likes them. Off to find crackers. Through the produce section for grapes, strawberries, and an orange (the orange had nothing to do with the cheese, but I wanted it anyway). Then off on a tangent for fruity sparkling water, seeing as I usually have wine with cheese and that's not really an option. And then I focused my attention on the happiest place in the store: the cheese fridge by the deli, where I grabbed some brie and chevre along with some fruit spread. $45 later, I made my way home and gorged myself on my acquisitions. I am full and happy, and probably just put on 5 pounds. It's the best feeling.
(Note: Before the pregnancy police read this and have a fit, everything was made with pasteurized milk. This is the US, people. We have laws here that keep us away from all the fun food. Getting the real stuff involves either a local dairy or a trip to France, and since I went to neither tonight, berating my choice of haute pregnancy cuisine is unnecessary.)
Today's lesson: Food is powerful motivation. Pregnancy hormones are even more powerful motivation.