But the first trimester? All I wanted was cheese. I came home and would stand over the kitchen sink devouring whatever shredded variety we happened to have in our fridge at the time. Cheddar, mozzarella, colby jack? Low-fat, 100 calorie pack, string cheese or mascarpone? It didn’t matter. I’d like to blame it on the fact that all the good stuff is off limits, brie, camembert, humboldt fog, even the real blue cheese is a no-no. Some women want a glass of wine or a cup of coffee after delivery. I told Rocky to bring me a nice log of goat cheese. The creamy delicious good stuff.
These days I don’t feel satisfied after dinner without a scoop of ice cream (or the whole pint). I’ve made our friends walk blocks after a big dinner to get Haagen Daz. A few weeks ago, Rocky and I went to four ice cream shops when Maggie Moos line was too long, only to end up back there because one place turned into a freaking yogurt shop, the Baskin Robbins down the street just started a renovation, and Harris Teeter didn’t sound nearly as good as some Udderly Cream.
But the one that takes the cake? An urge for more dairy came at 10:30 on a Saturday night while watching a movie. It was late, but I could really go for some cheesecake. Since Rocky was going to just run in and get it, the dog was invited along. I opened the door and he bolted out at the first site of a rabbit in our neighbor’s driveway. He went across the street and down the road, running through the neighborhood. I was laughing so hard as Rocky ran after him and screaming his name, surely waking up all the sleeping kids as Atticus ran alongside flower beds and up to front doors after this rabbit. I finally made it to the end of our driveway and called his name once. He bolted right into my arms. Rocky might say otherwise, but I am telling you, that cheesecake was worth it.
The offending puppy with his craving du jour.