Food Porn

Gestational diabetes is no picnic.
Seriously.  Because at picnics, I think they have cake.  They definitely have cake.  Or at least pie.

The good things about knowing I have gestational diabetes are that I am eating healthier and taking good care of my little twinks by watching my carb intake like it's my job.

But because I am human, and a woman, and I like to complain, I am dedicating this post to foods I miss.
And in the process, kicking myself in the ass for posting pictures of food I can't eat.  

That is some sexy cheese.

Who ate my cake?  I swear, I will guillotine your ass.

Chocolate chips wrapped in baked sugar.  mmmmm

Hot dogs, friend in corn bread.  Genius.  People who don't like these are not my friends.

Pasta Carbonara, a carb lovers dream

There are no words to tell you how much I miss you dear golden friends.

I know Thanksgiving was 4 days ago but one piece just wasn't enough.  Even if my piece was the size of a whole pie.

I love you too.  I really do.

And, because I'm a nerd and bored,  I made you a pie chart to understand how much I miss these foods.  Mmmm, pie.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Now somebody get me an effing fork.

How to Decorate for a Bris

If you're an avid reader, you know I've been thinking about our little boy's Bris for months.  After many discussions, we've decided to have our joint bris and baby naming with just our immediate family.

So I've decided that it's important to find some great party supplies to help us celebrate the event!

It's not extremely easy to plan a boy/girl event without a direct theme but I didn't think an "Elmo" bris was exactly appropriate.

I even looked at specifically Jewish plates/napkins/decorations but they're very traditional and we are celebrating little babies after all.

But then I though long and hard about what a bris is really about.  And it came to me!

 To serve all the guests bagels and lox.

Perfect for mimosas and sodas!

 Nice table accents and great for easy clean up!

Adorable.  Am I right?

Who knew planning a fun and memorable Bris would be so easy?

I am an Ape. And my Husband is Sleeping in the Guest Room.

Josh thinks my pregnant body is the cutest thing he's ever seen.  It's very sweet.  I just hope he still thinks it's cute afterwards when I have a huge bloated belly left over and massive emotional waves due to postpartum depression.  I like to think realistically.

Last night, as I was putting on my pajamas, Josh said he figured out what I reminded him of in my pregnant form. 

And then to further prove his point, in case I didn't understand English, he found a picture on the internet.

I love my husband.

Diagram of a Pregnant Person

This morning as Josh was reading my weekly pregnancy update, he grudgingly informed me that one of the symptoms I could now expect is flatulence.  We both laughed.  I was like, "then what's been going on the last 32 weeks?"

Poor Josh.  His feminine, sweet wife has turned into a farting, burping, peeing-in-her-pants roly poly thing.

Today I decided to make a diagram to better help you understand the different dimensions of a pregnant person.

Diagram of a Pregnant Person:

 Trust me, this is way better than the diagrams they show you in child birth class.

I'm Like Martha Stewart...With Cankles

"How the hell did this happen?" I yell pleadingly at Josh as I look down at my feet that flow right into my calves.  My ankles have disappeared.  They went to the same place as my flat stomach, my sanity, my ability to properly digest carbs and the view below my belly button.

In the process of becoming a waddling duck-like fat person, what hasn't disappeared is my Martha Stewart-like love of all things crafty and girly.  Although I'm still waiting for Martha to come out of the closet.  Not that that has anything to do with being crafty or girly, I'm just saying.

My sister invited us to her house for the Georgia/Kentucky game today.  I may have graduated from Georgia but I don't go for the games.  I go to dress cute and eat food.  It's all about the food.

So yesterday I baked some pumpkin spice cupcakes with cinnamon buttercream frosting and decided they needed a little something extra before I brought them to the game day celebration.

So I made some Georgia pumpkin cupcake toppers.  Josh came home yesterday and was like, "What are you doing?"  I told him I was making cupcake toppers.  He didn't exactly understand the point.  I stated it simply, "I'm busy, not crying and not peeing my pants.  So this is a good thing."

 Silas, the dog, wanted cupcakes too but I don't share with dogs.  They walk on 4 legs and smell.  That's just not normal.  Although, as far as dogs go, Silas isn't so bad.

I can tell you one thing about these cupcakes.  They're not on my Gestational Diabetes diet.  Maybe if I eat one with a hard boiled egg and some almonds.  Because that sounds appetizing. 

My cankles and I are going to go sulk.

Being Normal is Not an Option

I cried last night because I soft boiled what were supposed to be hard boiled eggs.  I cracked 4 of them to prove that they were underboiled and threw them in the trashcan.  Then I cried because I had bought the extra expensive Omega 3 eggs and just wasted them.

So I reboiled the rest and they were still under boiled.
So I threw out 2 more eggs.  And cried more because I had just wasted $1.50.

Josh reboiled the last of them and we played a game of Rummikub to ease the tension.

This morning I ate a perfectly hard boiled egg, thanks to the patience of my husband and the fact that there are more than 6 eggs in a dozen. 
I've been boiling eggs my whole life but, somehow, last night just wasn't meant to be.

You go a little crazy when you're pregnant.
I pee my pants.
I laugh hysterically reading product reviews on Amazon.com.  Then I pee my pants and cry because I peed my pants.
I can't wait for Josh to come home and then spend the whole night being psychotic.
I put on my old jeans and complain that they won't button even though I'm less than 6 weeks away from giving birth.

I don't think I'm going to blame pregnancy for all of this.  I think it's the lack of sugar.

But the doctor said I can have a "free day" on Thanksgiving.

Hold on to your pumpkin pies.  I'm going on a rampage.