Happy Friday! Honestly, I’m actually more excited about NEXT weekend…but that’s another story for another time. Like next week.
I have to just…say this…because I’ve already said it to Tim one too many times and maybe this will help me get it out of my system. That’s the intent, anyway.
I AM SO EXCITED THAT IT’S SEPTEMBER! FALL IS KNOCKING ON THE DOOR! NO MORE HEAT!
Just so you know, Tim and I endured the HOTTEST summer on record for Denver. It has been miserable. Well, I guess I should put that into some kind of perspective. It’s not as bad as Texas. Or Georgia. The heat + humidity makes things worse than miserable. That kind of torture from May to October should really be considered some kind of torture device for criminals. I’m positive they’d tell us who killed JFK and if bigfoot really exists if you just left them outside between the hours of 12:00 and 2:00. Without sunscreen. Or water.
And just because we live in Colorado now doesn’t mean t wouldn’t know about that kind of unreasonable weather. Georgia was my home for 27 years, since the doctor yanked me out of my mother’s uterus (I was an emergency cesarean).
Then? A miracle occurred. Tim got a new job and we moved to Colorado and I was SO EXCITED to get milder temperatures. Except, I didn’t realize “mild” meant 90+ degrees for entirely too long. And by entirely too long I mean about a month or so (I know, my Southern friends, a month? That’s peanuts). Granted, the nights were at least bearable and the humidity here is really low…so I guess what I’m saying is that I really shouldn’t be complaining. But I am.
That’s all over now!
Ok…moving forward…because I’m sure you feel like Tim now all, “Shut it, woman. We heard you already. Got it. Capice.”
Even though I don’t really have much of anything to really say right now. I had this overwhelming craving for spicy, hot boneless buffalo wings and birthday cake cake last night.
(Obviously, having nothing to say means I immediately jump to boneless buffalo wings. Makes perfect sense…if you don’t think about it)
(FYI: to me, birthday cake cake is yellow cake with lots of white icing. Costco makes the BEST birthday cake cake I’ve ever had. EVER.)
Here’s an unknown tidbit about me: Pre-pregnancy, I was not a spicy food person. At all. I could barely handle mild salsa. I’d ingest medium heat on a good day. Now? I douse everything in my new BFF, Chalula hot sauce. The more my lips burn, the happier I am. This baby has an obsession with spicy food. I don’t even know what it means other than we better buy stock in Chalula. I’m pretty sure it’s getting out of control, this spicy need that I cannot quash. I mean, I put Chalula on my egg salad sandwich the other day.
It was delicious, if you must know.
Anyhow, last night I had to settle for Burger King instead of my wing and cake craving and guess what?
Baby does NOT like Burger King.
I still feel sick. It’s like a residual blech just sitting in the pit of my stomach. And YES. TMI: I’ve eliminated already once this morning, so that probably isn’t the issue, here. The issue is the baby didn’t get their boneless hot wings. I could even do without the cake. Just give me a pile of boneless hot wings – as hot as they come – and I’m a happy girl. Er…more accurately, the baby is a happy baby. Isn’t that the goal? Happy baby?
Happy baby = HOT WINGS.
Aren’t certain cravings supposed to mean something in regards to the sex of the baby? I’m not going to sway the poll – which is pretty much dead even right now – but I can tell you that MOST of the old wives tale “activities” to tell sex have pointed more to one sex versus the other. Like a 90/10 split. So, I’d be surprised if we ended up the sex that is currently holding steady with the 10%. Either way though, Tim and I will be happy. I’m counting down the days to September 20!
Can you guess what Tim’s preference is for boy versus girl? It’s not 50/50, I’ll tell you that much.
Wait, I skipped a step. Why September 20? Well, first it is Tim and my “month-a-versary” date. Yes, we still keep track. It’ll be seven years since we started dating (and obviously, eventually got married) on November 20. SEVEN. YEARS. he’s put up with me. That’s definitely some kind of record.
Oh, and September 20 just so happens to be the date of the “big” ultrasound where we will hopefully find out the sex.
No biggie…I mean, it’s only THE ultrasound every single pregnant woman looks forward to from the moment her pee stick is positive.
(which means I do a dorky, twirly happy dance every time I think about it)
(it’s only 18 days away, not that I’m counting or anything)
(I didn’t even need a calendar to count that, by the way)
(not that it’s hard to count the days anymore, but I’m math challenged, so this is kind of a big deal for me)