Benny and I had a chance to go to a couple of concerts in Ogden these last couple of weeks. The first was Accapellastock, where amazing talent from around the country come to perform. Personally, I think the local group we have here is just as talented as anyone… even if this year’s show wasn’t nearly as energetic as last year’s show.
Tweet, incidentally, is a HUGE fan of beat boxing. And I was a huge fan of the caramel Kettle Korn that I insisted was necessary for me to maintain living. And since Benny’s a fan of keeping me alive so that he finally gets to spoil his baby girl, he handed me his wallet and told me to get whatever I needed. That’s right ladies… eat your heart out.
Last night, we went to a concert by the Lovell Sisters at the Nature Center. Benny was in charge of snacks… and apparently thought that we were feeding all of the concert goers because when we showed up with a bag of food and full ice-chest, we got some curious looks from the people next to us who had brought the standard red wine, cheese and bread. Obviously, we didn’t get the memo… but that didn’t stop me from digging into the watermelon, apples, bread, cheese, grapes, chips and salsa. All this for a two hour concert.
I only regretted that I hadn’t brought a corn dog as well.
Ah, yes… my new craving. CORN DOGS. Fresh corn dogs. Not one of those health risks you get at a gas station after a long night of “Book” Club. And do you know that the only hot dog joint in town, “Hot Dogden”, doesn’t carry corn dogs? How is this even possible?
A quick mental review assured me that there wasn’t a corn dog vendor in the food court of the mall. And just like that, we were in Code Red. IS IT SO HARD FOR A HOT DOG VENDOR TO OFFER CORN DOGS??
I mentioned this to Benny when I got home that night… er, rather, when I woke up that afternoon from my lunch break and decided that perhaps I was going to take a half-day of sick leave. Perhaps I haven’t mentioned it (much) but good grief does this baby development leave me exhausted. Even Steve the Squirrel chattering on about nothing to no one - which would usually leave me pondering how much I truly enjoy wildlife compared to how much I truly enjoy sleeping and wouldn’t it be tragic of Steve got blasted by a jet of water from the hose next time he opened his little yapper? – couldn’t bring me out of my slumber enough to at least close the window and instead left me covering my head with a pillow. Thus making my difficulty in breathing EVEN WORSE.
Have I not mentioned how hard it is for me to breathe at night now? In the last week, my lungs… which are currently the size of baseballs… have decided that the only time they will function correctly is when I’m sitting in the coffee shop, writing this post and drinking an Italian Soda. They refuse to function when climbing the stairs, watching the Nightly News with Brian Williams and his eyebrows and… sleeping. You know... only the three most important elements of my day. KIND OF A BIG DEAL.
I’d always heard that pregnant women are uncomfortable when they sleep on their back. Personally, I had never had a problem with this. No pain, no discomfort. Nothing. Until these last two weeks. It’s interesting… the feeling of suffocating because your teeny-tiny lungs can’t keep up the demands of a huge pregnant body. Left side, right side… nothing works. And just when I think it can’t get any worse and I’m about to “accidentally” smack Benny across the head while he sleeps because if I can’t sleep, why should he?… well, that’s when the bladder kicks in. Five times last night alone.
I have this theory that if I empty my bladder, that will somehow give the lungs more room to do their job. And… I think this theory works... for about 5 minutes. You know… before the lungs realize I’ve tricked them and before the bladder re-fills.
But… wow, I REALLY digress. This was about corn dogs, wasn’t it? Yes, I believe it was. When I sent Benny to The Center of the Universe for milk last night, I casually mentioned that one of my Facebook friends had clued me in that Arctic Circle has a kids meal with a corn dog… and if he wanted to, I would be okay with him bringing me one.
Honestly, I didn’t expect him to do it… #1 – it’s Arctic Circle and I don’t know if we’ve ever voluntarily gone there in our adult lives. I don't think their secret sauce is A) a secret or B) a sauce. And, #2 - I have had a problem with all Arctic Circles since about 25 years ago when my dad ordered a taco salad from an Arctic Circle in Preston and it had an earwig in it. And I have since painted all Arctic Circles with that same Earwig in My Dad’s Taco Salad brush. Because you may be able to take the earwig out of the salad, but you can’t take the earwig in the salad out of my temporal lobe.
So, you can imagine my delight when Benny came home with this:
That's right! Honey. Crunchy. Chicken. Corn. Dogs. 28 of 'em!!!
This should last me until the end of the week.
It's impossible to explain to the never-been-prego layperson how HUGE this is. Especially because Benny's not so much a fan of the processed food on a stick. But I'll be damned if he didn't join in the celebration and eat two of them himself. Obviously, given his stomach discomfort that evening, I need to review the finer point of corn dog consumption with him. The finer point being: Stop while you're ahead.
Other than the breathing problems and the meat on the stick madness going on in our household right now, things with the pregnancy couldn't be better. Tweet is kicking and tumbling up a storm. The doc says she's right where she should be in terms of growth and she has a heart beat of about 140.
We start birthing classes next week and everything is just getting more and more real. I'm scrambling to get everything done for work that I need to since I'll be gone for two months... and I still don't know that it will be enough. And we're both trying to figure out how we're going to handle the adjustment.
I guess you don't really know until you're living through it. And then you just figure it out as you go. Luckily, I've got a great partner to go through this with. One who brings me corn dogs and has even gone so far as to not dry heave when I ask him to put lotion on my feet. This is progress. And this is also what love is.
Tweet's one lucky little girl to have a dad like Benny. I can't wait for her to realize it.