At least I’m not throwing up?

We had amazing food on our honeymoon. Every meal was served on the beach, dinner being served family style. They brought these tacos and ribs for lunch one day and, ho-ly crap, they were amazing. One of the other guests staying at the resort hugged the chef. I wept silently and asked for seconds. 

 

So this baby thing, yeah. It’s a lot harder than I though it would be.  I wouldn’t say I’m complaining, we’re both very blessed and happy to have a little lentil inside of me right now. But as you know, I exaggerate and love making something of nothing. Rocket Baby is six weeks and two days old, which leaves me only 236 days left to make Brandon’s life miserable. I haven’t been craving anything yet and the worst bit of morning sickness I’ve encountered has been heartburn, but oh man, OH MAN, am I moody.

 

Yesterday I tried hanging a wedding photo, a gigantic frame with an 11×14 print, with yarn. When it didn’t work (shocking!) and the frame came crashing to the ground, I immediately ran to the kitchen for a glass of chardonnay. When I remembered that I can’t solve my problems with booze for the next forever, I broke down in hysterical crying. “I – sob – can’t – sob – do anything riiiiight. Sob, sob, sob.”

 

This episode was followed by the realization that I was out of shampoo which triggered another cry fest which in turn reminded me that I couldn’t do anything right.

 

And then Rocket Man let me know that he had gotten rid of cable.

 

And then I blacked out.