Ok. So I can’t really have a mama blog and not talk about pregnancy. And I can’t talk about pregnancy without telling you the story of when I had a total and complete two hour melt down over ice cream. Stay with me.
I was around 6 weeks pregnant and we had just found out a week or two prior that I was expecting. The only time I really felt hormonal, emotional, and “off” was that 6-8 week period in the beginning. Other than that, I had an amazing and easy pregnancy, zero morning sickness, and acted completely like myself. EXCEPT THIS NIGHT.
It was around 8:30pm and I called in an order of food and ice cream to a local ice cream place and my husband was planning on picking it up on his way home that evening. He didn’t know what my order was, he just knew he had to pick it up. I sat at home waiting patiently and was so excited for my Butterfinger cyclone made with chocolate ice cream to arrive. 1) I hate vanilla. 2) I’m pregnant so chocolate is life. When Ben finally walked through the door around 9:00pm, I can see from across the living room that the top of my cyclone is white. It’s not brown like chocolate. It’s white.
Ben is so confused. He just came home with food and I am crying and so pissed off that I can hardly talk. I explain that I ordered my cyclone with chocolate ice cream, not vanilla. Ben doesn’t really see any harm done and tells me to just eat it anyway.
ABSOLUTELY, 100 PERCENT, NO. You need to go back up there, show them the receipt that says chocolate, and bring me back the correct order. He doesn’t listen. He’s been gone all day and doesn’t want to drive wall the way back up there. Understandable. So, I take matters into my own hands. If you know me at all, you know I hate confrontation. If any restaurant ever gets my order wrong, I never say anything. If my food tastes like complete crap and my waiter asks how it is, I act like it was that best meal I’ve ever eaten in my life. I hate making people feel bad. Again, EXCEPT THIS NIGHT.
I drive the 10 minute drive across town at 9:15 at night, crying the entire way. How could they give me vanilla? I just cannot believe them. I park the car, wipe my face so they don’t know I’ve been crying over ice cream, and storm in. I slam the receipt on the counter and put the fear of Jesus in the little high -schooler working and let her know THAT MY RECEIPT CLEARLY SAYS CHOCOLATE. I stand with my arms folded as she throws away the vanilla cyclone and makes me a new one with chocolate. I storm out as if I’m a lawyer who just won a huge case. That’s the last time they ever do me wrong like that. They need to know who they are dealing with.
As I start driving home, eating my chocolate cyclone, I start to come out of my black out. What the hell did I just do? What the hell is wrong with me? I am literally the worst human being on this planet. The tears start again. I bawl again the entire drive home because I feel so bad about how I acted. That is not me. I’ve never done something like this. I debate calling and apologizing to that poor girl. Ugh. I pull it together so Ben doesn’t see me STILL crying when I walk in the door.
But when I did walk through the door, I see that Ben is already done eating. He didn’t even wait for me to eat dinner together. Why would he have not waited 30 minutes and let his food get cold to eat with me? You know what happens next? Yep, tears. HOW COULD YOU NOT WAIT FOR ME? Now I have to eat my cold food alone. I cry while I eat and am so upset that I lose most of my appetite and can’t even finish the cyclone anyway. I go to bed without saying a word to Ben.
After sleeping off the most emotional night of my life, I wake up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Ah, life is good. Ben was hesitant to talk to me, not sure if I was still upset over the ice cream, um, “situation” that had happened the night before. Nope, I was good! We get ready for the day laughing the entire morning about how absolutely dramatic I had acted. Ben later on admitted after Finn was born that after that night he thought I would be that crazy for the entire 9 month pregnancy and he was afraid for his life and well-being. Can’t blame the guy.
Aside from that night, I like to think I was a pretty laid back pregnant chick. I took all the hormones I had and packed them into one night early on just so my sweet husband would have to live on edge for the upcoming 9 months for when the next meltdown might strike again. The things we do to bring cute babies in this world, right?