Did you check out the new Featured Blogger?
Only one this time . . . Haven.
If you have not already done so, check out the post I put up about her this morning.
We ate lunch at Taco Bell.
Taco Bell always reminds me of being pregnant. I was ravenous for Taco Bell when I was pregnant. Every time, I ordered the same thing . . . two bean and cheese burritos with lots of hot sauce.
There was a stretch in my early pregnancy with Maj in which I ate at Taco Bell every chance I could.
That’s back when I was a vegetarian. All healthy.
Shut the fuck up. Taco Bell bean burritos are healthy and 100% vegetarian. Do not leave me comments about how the cheese in the burrito is actually solidified rhino ass-fat dyed orange. I do not want to hear about it.
Anyway, I was a vegetarian and I was pregnant with Maj and then I had a psychotic break and then I ate meat again.
Right before Christmas. Let’s see . . . that makes me about four months pregnant.
I am a crazy pregnant person.
Mark and I are out looking for a Christmas tree.
We have been looking for a Christmas tree for about four hours. I have made Mark drive me to about ten different Christmas tree lots, and I have rejected every single tree in every single lot. I have cried spectacularly at every single lot.
We have attracted a lot of attention.
Mark is tired of me but he is also determined to make me happy, so he drives me to Christmas tree lot number eleven.
We must get the tree today or Christmas will be ruined!
I climb from the car, all puffy-faced with tears and pregnancy. Pants unzipped because I have not yet transitioned to maternity pants. Snorty with snot and gulping back sobs of frustration.
So cute, people. So cute.
We walk through the lot together.
A more motley and unacceptable bunch of trees I have never seen. My tree is not here. I will never find my tree.
I am overwhelmed with the injustice of it all.
I slump against Mark and weep into his chest . . .
“I will never find my tree and Christmas will be ruined and the baby will be able to sense my unhappiness with the crap tree and the poison of my unhappiness will flow through my body and into the baby and the baby will be ruined!”
Mark pats me on the shoulder and says nothing.
“She will be born without ears . . . or perhaps without a nose . . . I need to find the perfect tree! Do you want our baby to be missing a nose?”
Mark makes hushing noises and hugs me close.
“Everything needs to be perfect or she will be ruined! And now I am ruining her as I stand here and weep about the tree that I cannot find. How can I be someone’s mother? How did you let me do this? We are doomed. The baby is doomed!”
Mark whispers into my ear, “Nothing is ruined. We are not doomed.”
“Where is the perfect tree? Find it! Where is it? Find me the perfect tree so that we can be a regular family!”
Mark giggles, “I think the regular family ship has sailed, babe.”
I am enraged, “Fuck you! We are going to be a regular family! Fuck you! Oh my god . . . how did I agree to let you be the father of this baby? FUCK YOU!”
Mark pulls his keys from his pocket and guides me back to the car, “Kris, when was the last time you ate?”
I am yelling crazily, “You are going to suck as a father! What was I thinking? You can’t even find a Christmas tree! I cannot breathe. I . . . cannot . . . breathe. Wait . . . what did you say?”
“You get weird when you haven’t eaten. It’s past time for lunch. Did you eat breakfast?”
“What? No . . . I was in a hurry to get going. Oh my god! I am starving!”
Mark speaks soothingly, “So we’ll get some food and we’ll try again. Taco Bell?”
I am all thoughtful, “I am sick of Taco Bell. You know what I want?”
I point across the freeway at an In-N-Out sign, “I want that. I want a cheeseburger. Fuck the vegetarian thing. I want a cheeseburger.”
Mark laughs, “You sure?”
I think for a moment, and you know what? I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life. I want a cheeseburger so badly that I would be willing to walk out into the field and cheese-grate my hamburger meat right off of a living cow’s ass. I want to bite chunks right out of the cow’s side. I want to lick a cow.
I want to eat a cow.
So we go to In-N-Out . . . the best meal I have ever ever eaten.
I stuff my face with cheesy meaty goodness. My pants unzipped, my face swollen and red and tear-streaked, my area of the table strewn with snot-covered napkins, my bladder possibly leaking a tiny bit with each loud blowing of my nose.
Oh my god.
So that is the end of a rather long stretch of vegetarianism.
We finish our meal and we climb back into our car.
Mark turns to me, “OK, so where are we headed next?”
“You know what? Go back to the place we just left.”
So he does.
And five minutes later, we have the perfect tree!
Today? We are eating lunch at Taco Bell.
I am feeling pregnant and nostalgic . . . I wander off in my mind for a moment . . . away from my family.
When I focus again, I hear Mark speaking authoritatively to the girls as he holds a plastic utensil in the air, “And that? Is the story of how Taco Bell invented the spork.”
Wait . . . what?
The girls are looking at him dubiously.
Maj takes a bite of her food, “Is that true, Daddy?”
Mark puts his arm around me, “Pretty all true.”
I rest my head on his shoulder.
I am so lucky to have this man.