This morning, as I rifled through my freezer, I was hit with a memory.
It was almost exactly a year ago that I was doing the same freezer-shuffle at breakfast time.
Now, this time, I was only going in to retrieve some ice for an almond milk breakfast smoothie (and no, it’s not yummier than it sounds, but I’m off cow’s milk for awhile, so I’m making it work), but I couldn’t help but smile in thinking of a very different freezer breakfast from a very different time.
I was pregnant. Very, very newly pregnant. So early that I, myself, did not yet know that I was with child.
I was searching for something quick and easy to grab for breakfast before I had to leave for summer camp at the school where I teach.
Yet, nothing appealed to me. After tearing apart the cabinets, I went full-on-spelunking through my freezer, as a last resort.
Eggos? No go.
Frozen berries? Nah.
Soy Buffalo chicken nuggets? Ummmm YES. Yes, Yes, Yes. I want them, and I want them all.
Now, shouldn’t that have been my first clue?
I told my husband and he totally smirked. He knew I was pregnant. I was just the only fool who refused to believe it without further proof.
And so, if there ever comes a morning that you find yourself a little extra tired, a bit moody, and insane over a box of frozen spicy mock chicken,
RUN, don’t walk, to the pharmacy, pick up a little HPT and pee on that stick.
Actually, on second thought, no running for you. At least not for nine months.