Intervention

This weekend I spent my time like many mothers-to-be; partaking in a 5-hour pub crawl with 200 of my nearest and dearest friends and neighbors.

Don't judge; it was for charity.

And yes, I will do anything to not deal with decorating or buying furniture for the nursery.

Happily, I didn't draw too many sideways sneers and hisses of "look at the already irresponsible mother. Shouldn't she be at home not killing my buzz with her disfigured abdomen?" I figure I averted the mobs' judgment because I'm such an adorable pregnant woman...

Or...it was really because there was a woman who had her two-month old strapped to her chest for the entire pub crawl and she took all the heat off of me.

Not drinking has been fairly easy for me. Well, except for those days where everyone around you is drinking and it's warm and they are all having a much better time than you because they are wrapped in alcohol's loving embrace. Which is roughly every time I get together with my friends.

But I'm sticking to my guns and not introducing The Bean to the joys of vodka and wine (not together, that's just gross) until she's at least 3 weeks old and can handle her liquor.

However, I have managed to replace alcohol's void in my life because I am easily addicted to every single thing I am introduced to. Particularly if those things will occupy brain space that would otherwise futilely try to figure out how to find a nursery set that won't cost me a year's salary or why crib bedding manufacturers insist on putting lame-ass cartoons on every single item.

Ice Cream:
(Oh my god, is she really going to talk about ice cream AGAIN...I get it. You're a crazy pregnant lady with an ice cream obsession. What else is left to say?)

Currently my freezer is home to: 1 pint chocolate gelato that is to die for and I sneak one spoonful into my body each day; 1 frozen yogurt pint that serves as a back up for the day I run out of gelato and need a frozen dairy treat; 3 fruit sorbets that remain untouched because they're sorbets.

The freezer is my new mini bar.

Nesting:
Cross OCD with the natural pregnancy urge to nest and you have my crack/cocaine.

While most rational people are curled up in bed sleeping, I go on organizational benders of epic proportions. (Which coincidentally does not involve cleaning my floors. That hatred runs deep.) I've managed to consolidate two rooms worth of crap into one. Mainly through my strategic use of throw everything away.

This drives Michael insane since my criteria to throw something away involves my not having used it in the past month. Which may be a little harsh, but I HATE clutter. (They should hire me to go on the show Hoarders. I fantasize about tying those people up to the wall while they watch me throw all their crap away. "Sorry. You have clearly lost your mind and it's time for someone to come fix this. No, no, no. We're not going to talk about this because you are CRAZY.")

Luckily, Michael travels a lot for business and I embrace these moments as my prime "organizing opportunities."

So, yes. I purge in secret.

Who needs alcohol with addictions like these?

Happy and not drunk at a bar!

This photo was taken precisely three seconds before The Bean sent a crippling pain up the entire right side of my body from doing a new break dancing move she's been practicing.