Rx: Throw A Meatball At 'Em

It is becoming more and more apparent that this pregnancy is causing modified behaviors in me. For instance:

1. Me: The Midnight Blogger, suddenly finds that to keep my eyelids open past the *late* hour of 10 pm is a HUGE stretch. I am forced and reduced to blogging when my mind is semi-coherent, at some point after my second cup of coffee in the morning.

2. My newly acquired morning blog routine is compromised by my body's seemingly uncooperative response to morning stimuli such as: sunlight pouring in the window, the sound of family traffic throughout the house, and even the smell of the aromatic coffee elixir brewing. All of these components fail to prod me to movement. My body cries out for more rest.

3. Then comes the two or three hour nap that overtakes me midafternoon. Sheesh. How is a gal supposed to function?!

4. And finally, my hormonal surge (of which I am almost completely unaware) is having some kind of strange effect on those around me. I am met with stares and long glances. Why? I successfully turned away Screaming Banchi Woman when she knocked on the door last night, and thankfully didn't let her in. One could hear her shouting as she took off down the road . . . And what's up with all the nonsensical crying? For no reason? Is it necessary to cry when I hang up the phone with my daughter, knowing I just saw her hours ago?

All of this brings me to The Meatball Incidence. It began simply enough, last Sunday, after fellowship.

I needed nourishment.

Now.

My husband began to prepare a dish of sustenance for me, namely: Spaghetti and Meatballs.

My greatest desire was nothing more than the desire to sit down and eat.

However, others began making requests of me at an alarming rate.

I found myself engaged in meeting the needs of four or five other people all at once. And I couldn't find my car keys.

Enter: Frantic, On The Edge Wild Banchi Woman. Her wild eyes darted too and fro, desperately trying to resolve her delimna. After all, it really was inappropriate that she should show up in a house full of guests. There was no way out. There was no where to turn. She was about to throw meatballs at everyone.

Until Gil saved the day.

He calmed her down.

He sat her down.

He fed her.

And then, she went away.

Ah. Peace and Happiness returned to my world.

So, with all this said, I just want to post a Warning:

I walk softly, but I carry Meatballs in my pocket.

Don't cross the Pregnant Lady.