We are soaking up every last moment we have right now before the baby comes to enjoy friends, carelessly long afternoons and no agenda weekends. We are big on incorporating this baby into our lives, not making everything orbit around its life, but we’ve had to be honest that we probably won’t be in a rhythm where we can just ‘hang out’ for a few...... months.
Over the past few weeks, in an attempt to finish a complete apartment renovation and overhaul, we’ve spent long hours in what I call ‘my personal purgatory’ locations. These include, but are not limited to, Ikea in Brooklyn on a rainy weekend, Bed Bath and Beyond..... like ever, Soho on a Saturday and, oh yea, doing it all while nine months pregnant.
After surviving said endeavors, sometimes a gal just needs a little pick-me-up. This used to consist of a hearty glass of wine..... but since I’m pregnant and all and the doctor said something about something or other in alcohol not being nutritious for the baby... or something weird like that..... my pick-me-ups come in the form of suburban delights, like cold fountain drinks the size of my face and refreshing drive-thru ice cream. Trust me, after being in the city for as long as I have, these things are rarities to find, so when the offer presents itself.... you act.
In an attempt to bring these delights along with us to our agenda free afternoon with friends, we spotted a Wendy’s, immediately pulled in and snatched up some big gulps of Diet Coke and some spiffy new Frosty Waffle Cones! In his defense, E did ask me ‘How many should we get?’, to which I robustly responded ‘As many as I can hold.... obviously!’. Whelp, I’m pregnant.... and I’m clumsy.... and I’m wearing a cream colored dress.... which added all together makes the perfect recipe for exactly what happened. Why I even pretended to act surprised when half the Frosty’s met their untimely death before they ever made it inside the bbq.... maybe I forgot I had a seat belt on..... is a strong example of my pregnancy brain in full effect. Did I have a fleeting thought of picking them up, dusting them off and still getting to parade into the bbq the hero of the hour with Frosty’s for all? You bet. Did I actually do it? E wouldn’t let me.... and marriage is about compromise.
This post was sponsored by Wendy's, though all opinions and clumsiness expressed are my own.