The holidays are over and I'm not sure I can get away with blaming pregnancy for this season's weight gain. For some reason I have it in my head that "fat-free" is somehow bad for the baby. Today at the store, for example, I had a hankering for tapioca pudding (Harry's Hofbrau, anyone?). I tried to avoid eye contact with the cookie dough chillin' innocently below the hanging puddings while I perused the Jell-0 Fat-Free Tapioca. I ultimately decided the fat-free kind had aspartame (aka nutrasweet) in it, which can't be good for the baby. or me. or the environment. So I passed and went for the more expensive, 3 grams of fat "designer" tapioca. I have a sneaking suspicion my logic is just a bit off. Due to a relapse into all-day "morning" sickness, December seemed like the longest month EVER. Usually the holidays whiz by, but this year the clocked ticked very slowly. Each night I go to bed wondering, "Will tomorrow be the day I feel that great second trimester high?" So far, the answer from the nausea gods has been a resounding "NO! Not today chick. And how about we throw in some backaches and strange shooting pains throughout your body for good measure?"
Thankfully, the holidays weren't all gloom and gas, there were some good times with friends and family to help distract me:
December 19th
A long overdue Mitty reunion with the girls to gab and gossip and welcome home our long lost Seattle-based friend Leslie. Kelli joined us from Westchester (LA, not NY) and we allowed Lancer Shelly into the party because she's old school St. Martin's. Good times were had over pizza, drinks, old photo albums and an Esprit shoe box full of notes passed at St. Martin's (courtesy of Dalane's secret packrat).
Jaime, Dalane, Kelli, Amy, Annamarie & Shelly According to the photo album, we look much hotter now. And certainly better dressed.
Leslie, her fun hair, Anna & her cute bangs
Molly was there in spirit and 7th grade handwriting
December 27th
Marie, Jackson and Gigi drove up from LA (well, Gigi lives in SJ, so she flew down, then drove up. What a good friend.) and made a quick stop at our house on the way to SF. Jackson (age 3) asked Marie and Gigi when they got in the car in LA "Are we at the roadtrip yet?" He was actually only headed north to retrieve his "Ticago Tubs Baseball" that he hit into our neighbor's yard during his visit last summer. Below "Schring" helps him look for it. Jackson really has no use for me whatsoever, he'll placate me with a hello on the phone or a hug in person but then it's "Hi Amy. How's/where's Schring?" I guess I need to get better at playing catch outside before I'm of any interest.
Searching high and low for the baseball.
I love a man who's secure in his manhood.