This weekend, I started re-reading the pregnancy book that everyone loves, Jenny McCarthy’s Belly Laughs, mostly because I read it for the first time when we were just starting to think about trying for a baby…and so while it definitely made me want to be Jenny’s best friend, it didn’t really hit home.

This time…well, it still doesn’t, because poor girl went through it. Near-vomiting episodes in grocery stores, hemorrhoids that sent her to emergency rooms, crazy cravings, splitting headaches…you name it. And the truth is that I’ve been fortunate enough to escape a lot of this nutty stuff and overall, have totally loved being pregnant. There is, however, one thing in the book that rings a very loud bell: Jenny describes having hormonal meltdowns so bad that she actually hurled metal objects at her husband’s head, and while I haven’t put Kendrick in danger of bodily harm (yet; we still have two months to go), whooooooo crying.

Last night, Kendrick was doing whatever he does in his office while I was sitting in bed reading, and I called out to him to ask if he thought I’d been more emotional than usual lately (I mean, let’s be honest: it’s not like I’m the Zennest of people even on the best, most un-pregnant days), and slowly…very slowly…a pair of saucer eyes and a wide-open mouth came peeking around the corner. He sat there like that for a minute, waiting to see if I had been kidding. And then:



But now that I think about it…things have been a little rocky in my tear ducts for the past little while.

Real quick, here’s a recap of Things That Have Made Me Cry Over The Last Three Days:

– A onesie in Macy’s with “Daddy Loves Me” written on it

– A cover of Your Song playing over a Starbucks loudspeaker

Avis, generally

– Google Maps (the actual, verbatim conversation went like this:

“I don’t know if we made the right turn. Look it up on Google Maps.”

Immediate tears.

“Please, just don’t ask me to use the maps! THE BLUE DOT NEVER MOVES AND I CAN’T DO IT! Don’t you know that the blue dot never moves?!?!?!..” (More tears.) “I’m SORRY. I know I screwed up I can’t do ANYTHING RIIIIIIIIIGHT…”

And then, later that night, when Kendrick tried to pick up my phone to examine what’s up with my Google Maps: “NONONONONO PLEASE NOT THE MAPS!”

So I have a bit of an issue with Google Maps. Can we please just drop it and never mention them again?)

– Dancing to Glory of Love at Sunday’s wedding (unfortunately, I think there’s photographic evidence of this one: the photographer was all over that “romantic” crying-pregnant-lady-dancing-with-husband shot)

Hell hath no fury like a…woman scorned by Avis and Google Maps? Oh, whatever; pass the Kleenex and ice cream, plz.

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