Category: Pregnant Food

It totally did not agree with my stomach, and I spent the morning contemplating death.  Okay, not death, but I was wondering if the Braxton-Hicks contractions had returned and dreading the thought of another afternoon spent in Labor & Delivery.  Fortunately, it was just horrible indigestion.  Horrible, horrible indigestion.  “Please kill me” indigestion.

I’m taking this as a sign that perhaps Thai food should wait until AFTER the Munchkin gets here.


Those are usually the days when I can justify talking Southern Honey into eating at restaurants he normally wouldn’t be a big fan of in the name of exposing the Munchkin to new tastes early.  I’m pretty sure I should feel guilty about it, but it’s kind of hard.

Saturday, for example, we were in the big city with a friend of ours, doing research for a business venture we’re all considering.  Lunch time rolled around, and our friend suggested a local Indian restaurant.  I like Indian food — haven’t had it in several years but still like it — but Southern Honey’s not a big fan.  I have to admit that I basically said that I’d really love to have Indian this once and wouldn’t the Munchkin like it?  And bless his heart if he didn’t agree.  (It was quite tasty, too.)

We do have an agreement, though: Neither of us like Indian as much as we like Thai, so if those are our options, Thai it is.  And because I really hate playing the “But I’m PREGnant!” card for everything else, I agreed not to go there unless I was genuinely craving something or he suggested something that made me nauseated.

Tonight I’m digging it because it made it easy for me to justify in my head spending a little more on dinner for the Thai place down the street from the hotel I’m staying at for work instead of having fast food or something close by.  Lad nah = tasty gustatory joy.  The Munchkin seems to be on board with it, too.

Now I’m off to enjoy my mint chocolate ice creamy goodness before I slip off to bed.

I think I’ve found my food nemesis: tomatoes.

It explains my sudden difficulty with manwich and my sad, sad attempt at making chili tonight.  Got the beef browned, got the beans and spices in the pot, and then went to chop the tomatoes.  And thought I was going to be seeing dinner (which I also cooked; gooooo me!) for a second time.  I had to get Southern Honey to chop them for me.  But at least the chili got done; it’s on the stove simmering away for tomorrow night.

In hilarious news, I discovered that the cats love the taste of olive juice.  I sometimes indulge in a small cappuccino cup of olives to fix my craving for something salty.  Tonight was one of those occasions, and when I was done, I set the cup down on the floor.  Prometheus came over and started sniffing around it.  Next thing I know, his whole head was in the darned cup!  Tesla followed up that performance by sticking his own head in the cup and then rolling around on the floor like he’d had a bag of catnip or something.

I so thoroughly wish I had had a video camera.  (As Prometheus takes his place back at the altar of the olives and finishes off the juice.  *laughs*)

I totally just typed up and deleted an extraordinarily whiny post.  I think this being nauseated all the time is getting to me — it’s been a long week.

However, I had some yummy sushi today for lunch.  California rolls are the yum, not to mention what I’ve been craving for entirely too long.  It was nice to be able to fulfill the craving and not have it be for junk food.  I think I can handle craving California rolls.  Especially since they’re fairly cheap while being tasty.

I’m tempted to learn how to make my own sushi, but the ingredients are kinda cost-prohibitive, since I’m the only one who eats it, and you just don’t need much avocado to make a single Cali roll.

Hopefully this means the Munchkin will turn out to like all sorts of food if I keep eating stuff like this?  That might start to make up for the wanting to puke all the time…

Cooking, how I miss thee

Someone mentioned when I inquired about recipes for pregnancy that I’d probably just be eating whatever sounded good at the time.  Almost none of them cooked while pregnant, and these are women who live to cook.  I thought, yeah, sure, I’ll be fine.  I can’t go forty weeks without cooking!

Oh, how naive I was.

At the end of the day, by the time I drag myself home from the office, all I want is to curl up on the couch and die.  (Okay, sleep, not die, but still.)  Last night I summoned the energy to throw some pork chops in the oven, some mac n cheese on the stove and some broccoli in the microwave.  I’m still not sure how I pulled that one off, and it wasn’t something I’d blog home about.

Last weekend I thought I’d make granola and granola bars.  By the time I got through the granola (which I kinda burned, lame), the bars weren’t happening.  Maybe this weekend.  They’re going to be S’mores.  Really.  When I get around to making them.

I tell myself, “Tonight I’m going to make something good.  A balanced meal, with veggies and protein and a starch.  A meal I’ll want to blog about and take leftovers to work tomorrow.”

Then I go to work and sweat through the “morning” sickness that lasts pretty much all day.  I munch on whatever I have on hand and pray that breakfast and lunch won’t leave me feeling blah.  I even attempt to get some work done; most of the time I mostly succeed.  When quitting time rolls around, I practically stagger out to the car and drag myself home.  My good intentions go out the window and I’m like, “I surrender.  Break out the chicken noodle soup.”

All those good intentions, down the drain.  Maybe I will just give a pass on cooking for the next 34 weeks, although I’m already missing the variety in foods.  At least I’ve got a variety of flavors in the yummy gummy multivitamins I bought over the weekend since the idea of having to smell the prenatals was making me sick.