The other day, my friend jl (a frequent commenter on this very blog) completely out of the blue, started telling me how great my husband is, mostly as a father, but also as a husband. And she happens to be a lesbian, so in my mind, this is really quite a tribute. She has seen him with me and with Athena, and I was so impressed to hear her say such great things about him. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who notices. And again, tonight, he did something worthy of public praise.
When I was pregnant with Athena, I took great pride in the fact that I had absolutely no unusual cravings. And I really didn't. I certainly craved fried shrimp or Mexican food from time to time, but as anyone who knows me knows... that is completely normal. I also crave a nice red, juicy cheeseburger from time to time, which sucks when I'm pregnant, because I'm only allowed a pinkish, not-really-juicy burger.
Anyway, as you can probably guess, this has not been the case this time around. About three weeks ago, I had to have some green olives or I was simply going to explode. I did, in fact, go to the store and get a jar... ate about five, and haven't touched them since. Still, it did feel good.
Then two weeks ago, I got a MAD craving for chocolate eclairs (with custard... not those cheap Harris Teeter knock offs) at about 9:30 at night. I was sorely tempted to head out to Wellspring to get one, but I wasn't sure they were open past ten, and it would have taken me just about that long to get there, so I talked myself down from the ledge and didn't give in.
Last week, I started craving yellow cake with chocolate frosting. The cake mix kind. Duncan Hines, pudding in the mix. I could have made one, but it seemed downright silly to make a whole cake just so I could have enough to squelch a craving. Finally, after three days of trying to push it out of my mind, I went to the store and got a small cake, but the closest they had to what I wanted was marble cake with that white sugar icing. I had a piece, and hated it. It's still sitting on the counter downstairs. I need to just toss it.
But tonight, I carried out the ultimate stereotypical scenario. Athena was about ready for bed, and all I could think about was a Nutty Buddy. You know the ice cream of which I speak? Those cones coated with chocolate on the inside, then filled with vanilla ice cream, then dipped in chocolate and nuts at the top? And I couldn't put it out of my head. I had already taken a bath, so I was in my robe. I debated... should I get dressed and go out to get one, or should I ask Chris? I have really been trying not to play pregnancy cards with him, as he really doesn't fall for it anyway, and I don't feel an overwhelming need to make him miserable whenever I am miserable. Don't get me wrong... sometimes I do just that, but it isn't intentional, I swear.
Anyway, this is why I sing the praises of my soulmate tonight. Because he put on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and, after explaining to our neighbor why he was heading out (I have to say that if I were him, I would have told someone too... somebody needs to be the martyr in this), he went to the store and bought me a whole box. In fact, he did one better and bought the Klondike brand, which has that pseudo-chocolate-esque stuff down the middle of the vanilla ice cream. YUM!
And to my credit, despite the fact that I was not at all hungry and was, in fact, feeling a bit overfull, I ate a whole cone, and I felt BETTER after doing so. So it really was medicinal... not just some wacky craving that really did not need to be acted upon.
So I've done it. I've sent my husband out at night to get me ice cream. Fortunately, I didn't wait until midnight or anything. It was only 7:30. But all the same, I love the man for doing it. I love him for many reasons, but he HATES to go back out at night for anything... especially to go to the grocery store.
Thank you, honey. You are da' bomb!