Three months ago, I would have considered myself a foodie. I loved food. All kinds of food. Exotic, diverse foods. Every kind of food you can imagine.
Except for fast food, obviously. If I’m going to waste the calories, I want it to be worth something. Anyway, that was three months ago.
Now, I’m growing a tiny gremlin inside of me, and the first trimester was a little rough, to say the least. Better than it could have been, but not . . . great.
So now I have a list of foods that are not my favorite.
It goes like this.
1) Meat. 2) Eggs, except when I’m in exactly the right mood. 3) Literally everything else depending on my mood, except for cereal with milk and, weirdly enough, cheap grocery store cake icing, which I crave with all of my being but refuse to eat because WHAT??
Food is weird. Food while you’re pregnant is even weirder. I’ve given up trying to predict what is going to sound good at any given moment. Meal planning has gone out the window, because what sounds good when I meal plan will probably not sound good when I start to make dinner. So we’re back to being spontaneous.
Which means I end up in the kitchen half an hour before dinner, praying that God will give me a dinner idea that doesn’t make me gag.
This generally works, actually.
And if it doesn’t, I text my wonderful, handsome, understanding, and kind husband, and he declares a pizza night and brings me pizza.
Because food is weird.
Any weird food craving stories for me? Tell me about them in the comments!
If I were a pilot,
I’d fly so very far.
Probably to Malaysia,
Or maybe Zanzibar.
I’d take my plane above the clouds,
As high as we could soar.
Then drop down low so we could see,
That strange and distant shore.
I’d fly us to a jungle,
And land among the trees,
So we could hunt for lions,
Such mighty prey we’d seize.
With lions in our cargo bay,
And a snake or two,
We’d take off to the skies,
We fleet and fearless few.
I’d fly to a volcano,
And land beside the flow,
To seek the mighty dragons,
Who fuel that fearsome glow.
With a dragon in my carry-on,
And burning rocks inside my case,
I’d fly us off to somewhere new,
With adventures we could chase.
What a trip we’d have,
If a pilot I could be.
I’d take us all around the world,
And still be back for tea.
A few weeks ago, I woke up at 2:30 AM and drove forty five minutes into town to the airport so that I could catch a 5:45 AM flight to Burbank, California.
Then I got picked up at the airport and drove straight to the studio, because the whole point of getting up at ridiculous-o-clock in the morning was to first watch Phil Lollar direct two episodes of the radio show we both write for, then direct my own episodes the following day.
What is my life, right?
Did I also mention I did all this while I was ten weeks pregnant?
And having regular bouts of morning sickness?
And taking at least one nap every single day, sometimes as early as 8 AM, because I am currently growing a tiny human who is committed to sucking away my energy, brain, and most of my sanity to fuel his (or her) growth and development?
Anyway, it was a miracle that I made it through without puking or falling asleep on the floor. I’m pretty sure God was looking down from heaven on me and thinking that if he didn’t give me a double shot of caffeine/adrenaline to run on for the two days I was in-studio, I was probably going to die.
Probably because I spent the two weeks before I flew down telling him that if he didn’t give me a double shot of caffeine/adrenaline to run on for the two days I was in-studio, I was definitely going to die.
Thank you, Jesus, for grace.
And adrenaline, because pregnant ladies cannot have caffeine. At least not in the dosages I would have needed.
Once I got over the nerves of being in the studio to actually direct for the first time, I had a lot of fun. Recording sessions are wildly unpredictable, and I’ve learned in my nearly-three-years working with this radio program to say ‘yes’ on the fly and worry about the consequences later. This particular session, that meant jumping into a booth to read opposite a few of the actors for one of the longer, more populated scenes, which was missing a character.
Yup, I had my own mic and headphones. Nope, you will never hear those recordings. There was a reason I became a writer instead of an actor.
But! It was fun, experience, good memories, and it helped the team, because the real actors in the scene didn’t have to do any awkward pauses to leave space for a character who wasn’t there.
I made up for it the next day, when I was the one in the director’s seat, and one of the guys on the team was filling in for one of my characters.
He had a lot more pages than I did, but I didn’t feel too bad. He’s got more experience. And talent. He played a pretty convincing teenage girl, although I think the part will still go to the original actress.
Once my episodes were recorded, we flew home the next day, and to make up for two packed days without a nap or pregnancy symptoms of any kind, I was sick for four days straight and barely got out of bed.
Growing a tiny human is hard, y’all. But at least I can now tell people that I have two skeletons inside of me. And one of them is growing.
I have a tale that I could tell.
Of giant ants and fearsome beasts,
And monsters black and fell.
When once you mount that trusty steed.
Home you’ll leave behind you,
Down dangerous roads your search will lead.
The Forest Gloom awaits you,
On your most magic quest.
Haunted by enormous spiders,
And a dragon with a glowing breast.
Mighty villains you must face,
And raging beasts galore.
To conquer all your many fears,
And reach that shining shore.
The prize is close to hand.
A precious, glimmered jewel,
Awaits you in that distant land.
Many tales will speak of you,
Songs sung of courage,
Written for the mighty few.
An adventure of adventures,
A mighty hero’s quest.
You’ll never be forgotten,
Even when you’ve gone to rest.
So close your eyes and off to bed,
My brave, resourceful knight.
Your mighty deeds protect you,
And I’ve left on your bedtime light.