I have been pregnant for a week...or at least known about it for a week. I can honestly say that aside from the awkward moment when I told my mom and sister about it, it completely slipped my mind the entire weekend. I had no symptoms whatsoever, nada, nothing.
Tooling through the Kroger, I was blindsided by the wretched smell of seared chicken flesh. Spontaneous gagging ensued. That was just the beginning....
I can no longer even look at my toothbrush without developing dry heaves. But brush, I must, so I toil through. Brush, brush, gag, brush, brush, gag. Rinse, spit, puke.
I can only eat french fries and cold ones at that. Anything else falls to the pit of my stomach and stays there...all day.
I cry at anything. Yesterday it was Crocodile Hunter and Katie Couric. Today it was Sesame Street because how cute were those girls playing in that doll house and then those mean kitties came and crashed it all down but I love the kitties because they are just like my kitty and my kitty is getting old and could die in, say, eight years, and oh that would be so horrible and, Oh, Lord, my kids keep getting old and one day they won't want to watch Sesame Street but grow up, marry some skanky girl and spend their holidays with her family, then I will die all alone, with just my cat.
I want to sleep all day, but can't sleep at night because of the insomnia. Wretched hell.
And this is only the beginning.....just shoot me now.
Mini Caramel Pecan Monkey Breads
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