I’m an emotional person, but I’m not a crier.

I cry during all “appropriate” moments – death of friends/family, super-sappy movies, when I’m in severe physical pain {it has to be severe, I have a pretty high pain tolerance}. The legitimate stuff. I actually don’t even cry at weddings.

Except when I’m pregnant.

I cry over everything. When I returned the bunnies last week, I cried. Someone looks at me the wrong way, I cry. Charlie Sheen’s life is falling apart at the seams, I cry. {Ok, that’s actually not true. Really, I just want to punch him in his face. I also blame this on the pregnancy.}

The doozy? The mother-of-all-ridiculous-reasons-to-cry?

I woke up this morning at 5:30 because the pup wanted to be let outside. As is typical of my life of late, I began thinking of the 4,246 things that I want to get done before Bambino arrives, {this number has gone down from 5,745 – don’t feel sorry for me!}  and so falling back asleep became an impossibility.

And then I decided that I wanted a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit from Wawa. {If you don’t have Wawa near you, I’m terribly sorry. Because you’re missing out on one of the most amazing wonders of the world. It’s the best convenience store out there. Hands down.} It had to be from Wawa, and it had to be on a biscuit. It was a crucial detail. So I sent the following text message to Luke:

“Hey baby…we need milk…would u wanna stop @ Wawa and get some? And bring me a sausage, egg, and cheese BISCUIT with some orange juice? ;) I would NOT be sad.”

I should tell you that “I would not be sad.” Is a phrase we use to indicate how badly we want something. As in: “If you wanted to rub my feet, I would not be sad.” Or “If you surprised me with a trip to Aruba, I would not be sad.”

Get it? Good.

So, I waited to hear back from him via text, but nothing came. And I was obsessed with this sandwich, I wanted it so badly that after about 10 minutes {I made the span of time sound a lot longer, didn’t I?} I called him.

“Did you get my text message?”
“What text message?”
“The one about the milk! And the biscuit! And the orange juice!”
“Yeah, I’m just kidding. I wanted to scare you.”
“Oh. So did you get it?”
“Well, yeah, except they didn’t have them on biscuits, so I got you one on a croissant instead.”
“NO! NO! NO! I didn’t want a croissant, I wanted a biscuit!” {you should imagine this spoken in the voice of a whiny 3-year-old, because that’s exactly how it sounded.}
“I’m sorry babe, that’s all they had.”
“Well, eat it before you come home, because I don’t want it.”
“Aw hon, I’m sorry. I’ll get you one tomorrow, I promise.” {He really is the sweetest husband in the world. Poor thing got stuck with me.}
“It’s ok, – sniffle – I’m sorry I made you feel bad – sniffle.”

Folks, I was crying over a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. Does it get more pathetic than that?

I’m afraid if I keep this up much longer, I’m going to turn my husband into this:


2 Responses to “crybaby”

  1. 1 lifelemons March 28, 2011 at 8:11 pm

    God made you a pregnant cry baby so that I can laugh at your antics and stop being such a pregnant meanie! ;)

  2. 2 DDTM April 4, 2011 at 1:11 pm

    I think you can get made to order sandwiches at the Wawa. Just sayin.

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