The Barefoot Files: 22 Weeks

So I'm 22 weeks and cannot imagine how there is 18 more weeks to go. My crotch thinks that is a cruel and funny joke.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm craving anything, and I'm really not. Except coffee. Like, I cannot think of anything better than a delicious cup of coffee with half and half. Unfortunately this is a horrible craving to have when you're pregnant. Right behind smoking pot and riding horses. Apparently these things are "frowned upon" when you're pregnant. I'm pretty sure Pocahontas rode a horse and she was very pregnant on that Lewis & Clark thing, so what do you think of that medical professionals! I'm gonna go eat a brownie.

Just kidding, but I am gonna go eat about fourteen of these. Because these are what I'm craving right now.

Then comes Christmas trees, which you have to stock up on until April when they have Easter Eggs and then it's a looooooong dry spell until Halloween again. I am not kidding when I say I have run into my mother-in-law, like a thief in the night, both of us sneaking around the grocery store holding an entire shelf of those Reese's, both of us wearing all black, tip toeing around as if we're quiet about it, no one will notice we're buying an insane amount of holiday candy. We'll kind of nod to each other and pretend we didn't see the other one, addicts in an alleyway after an NA meeting, because no one wants to admit they're buying that many of anything.

Except that they're SO GOOD. Go buy some. Eat three in a row. Feel really sick. Vow never to eat another one again. Wait a few hours. Eat three more. Fall asleep from sugar coma. Repeat.

Also, we've been having really nice summer-turning-to-fall weather, and the good thing about living in a place with 13 months of winter is that you tend to take full advantage of the few days of warmth. The little girls are no exception.