I am not a proponent of bans. Like unwritten rules, I think they suck and I generally break them without realizing it, yet with what would appear to be fierce determination. However, like allowing your dog to snuggle with you on the couch when your husband isn’t around (not that I do that…), exceptions have to be made. Someone should invent a device that bans me from watching anything that has the words ‘live’ coupled with ‘birth’ in the title on the interwebs, and this device should also prevent me from taking in food-related media of any type; including, but not limited to, commercials, sales catalogues and the occasional, random program where food plays a bit part. They can create an iPhone application that takes the guess work out of gag-worthy-diaper versus bobbie-time wails, but this device doesn’t yet exist. Thus came to be what I will always remember as the, this-is-what-it’s-like-to-be-knocked-up M&M meltdown:
Every pregnancy has one- a hormonal moment that makes absolutely no sense to the Baby-Bearer and the Baby-Daddy. Mine came at around 11pm one cold, rainy, Thursday evening. The Mister and I had settled in to watch a DVR’d episode of The Office, which has sadly disappointed this season, but I digress… As the episode rolled to a close, Kevin was sitting behind a gigantic glass jar filled with multicolored M&M’s, popping those suckers in his mouth and taunting my pregnant taste-buds.
I was struck by a hunger, a hunger that could only be quenched by blue, dark chocolate M&M’s.
Having reserved the pregnancy card for just such an occasion, I asked The Mister if he would run to the drug store (a two-minute car trip, five minutes by foot) to get me a pack of M&M’s. Being a sane human being (albeit one who is not too familiar with pregnancy hormones), he, of course, told me no. I burst into tears- literally. I sat there crying like my best friend had just moved to Disney World with her pet unicorn and left no forwarding address. I knew it was crazy- and I even apologized through my sobs, owning up to the That girl ain’t right-ness of the situation, as he asked in shock if I was really crying over candy. But, he quickly changed that no to a yes and headed up to get the goods.
Please note: at this point I was in complete shock and amazement at myself, and hadn’t had time to offer details about the inexplicable bearing color had in this situation…
The tears had dried just before The Mister got home with not just one, but two industrial-sized bags of M&M’s. As much as I tried to hide it, there must have been something on my face that told him that there was a problem. He asked me simply, cautiously and sternly what was wrong as he handed me the bags of almond and regular chocolate M&M’s in festive, Christmas red and green candy shells.
I had no choice but to admit that I had wanted blue ones…
That was then, and I am at 25 weeks now. I haven’t been craving dirt, chalk or even pickles dipped in ice cream. There was something about those bright-blue M&Ms that sang from that giant glass jar like a siren that night, and just that one night. I remember back in school the kids all saying the green M&M’s make you horny (how do kids comes up with that crap?!). I wonder if anyone knows that the blue ones make you go all pregnancy mental?