I'm a pretty emotional person without all of the extra, crazy, out-of-whack hormones that come with pregnancy. So . . . factor that in, and life gets pretty interesting.
Before we knew we were pregnant with Matthew, I remember the first time I lost it. It was about 11 p.m. some random night and I jumped up from whatever we were doing in the family room and told Ryan I was hungry for an omelet. He looked at me entirely confused. I then explained that I wanted a chicken, onion, and cheese omelet. I began cooking, and Ryan walked into the kitchen.
Ryan: "So you're really making one?"
Me: "Yes. Do you want one?"
Ryan: "Sick! Seriously?! That's disgusting, and it's 11:00 at night!"
All of a sudden, my lips begin to quiver and I'm crying uncontrollably.
Ryan: "Are you crying?"
Me: "Yes." Followed by harder sobs.
Ryan: "Why are you crying?! Over an omelet??"
Me: "I don't know!"
Ryan then ran downstairs and called a good friend to ask him what was up with me. The friend encouraged him to look into a pregnancy test. Amazing.
While I was pregnant with David, something similar happened. I had a friend over and Ryan was leaving for a football game or headed into work. I had cooked chicken and rice and was pretty far along in my pregnancy. All of a sudden, since clumsiness and shakiness are a big part of me while pregnant, I dropped the plate of chicken and rice to the floor. I just stared at the floor.
Ryan stood there waiting to see what my reaction would be.
Ryan: "Ker, it's okay. It's not a big deal. It's just a plate of rice. We can clean it up."
Me: "No, we can't! It's not okay." Sobbing, again, uncontrollably.
Ryan: "Why are you crying?!"
Me: Again, "I don't know!"
Ryan just stared at me.
Yesterday, Ryan had just come home and was sitting on the couch. I was trying to get ahead by preparing dinner early. I put a big pot of rice to cook on high on the stove. Then, since it would be a while before it boiled, I picked up a book and sat on the couch. About 20 minutes later, I thought, "Wow, whatever is cooking in the kitchen does not smell very good. It smells like it's burning." And then, I continued to read my book. About 10 minutes later, it occurred to me that it was my rice. I ran over and took care of the situation, but felt really frustrated.
So . . . in attempt to calm down and still feel productive, I began making the chicken/sauce mixture. I quickly grabbed my ingredients and started (without the recipe). Ryan had already chuckled about the rice.
After watching me a few minutes, he says, "Ker, what are you going to use for chicken broth? Did you buy some or make some with Bouillon cubes?" I immediately stop in my tracks and realize I don't have like half of the ingredients needed for this recipe and I've already started mixing things. Deep breaths. Chest heaving a little bit.
I look over at Ryan and his eyes are dancing and he's on the verge of losing it from laughing. He starts to look away. I start to laugh too. And then . . . I start to sob. And then, I'm laughing again, and ultimately, crying a lot.
However, it's important to note, Ryan never once asked me why I was crying. Progress.
Five minutes later, I'm totally fine and confronting my chicken / Hawaiian / Chinese Haystacks situation. Chicken broth cans happen to be in our food storage. Happy day. Not the end of the world.
