Tears Over Linguini

Last Sunday, C. and I ventured out on our very first completely baby-centric outing. We hit-up a few furniture stores looking for an upholstered glider rocker recliner...preferably in a neutral color and not covered with microfiber. (Anyone who has pets knows that microfiber holds fur like super glue holds...well...just about anything!) So the great rocker crusade sounds like a pretty simple task, right?! Soooo wrong. We found a grand total of 2 glider rockers and both were upholstered in a lovely light shade of green. I even considered changing the nursery color scheme to work around one of them...but thankfully C. talked me out if it. We've now moved on to glider rocker Plan B.

So after we visited 5 or 6 different stores and only had two packs of tiny hangers and a changing pad to show for it, C. and I decided to visit one of our favorite Italian restaurants. I must preface this story by saying that in the past, I have been lovingly referred to as a pasta-eating-mo-fo. I have a major passion for carbs. It's also VERY unlike me to step out on a limb and try something new once I've found a dish I like, but for some crazy reason, I found myself in an adventurous mood and ordered the chicken marsala. Underneath the price, it said something about adding spinach for an additional 3 dollars. Mmmm...spinach. The menu actually read just like this:

Chicken Marsala

Chicken breast, mushrooms and sweet
“Pellegrino” wine sauce,
with fettuccine 11.99
With sautéed spinach 14.99

Much to my surprise, when my plate arrived with just a pile of raw baby spinach and two chicken breasts, I was SURE the waiter had brought me the wrong thing. C. corrected me and confirmed with the waiter that I had indeed ordered THIS dish. Thanks for backing me up, babe...sheesh. I wasn't satisfied. I stormed across the room, grabbed a menu and like my usual stubborn self, insisted to C. that I should have gotten the linguine with the dish TOO! I wanted to say...I'm eating for TWO here buddy. A slab of chicken and a pile of spinach isn't going to cut it! But instead, my eyes welled up and I started crying. The room was packed. C. was silent. Cue waiter returning to inform me that I was mistaken and that the dish is either served with spinach OR linguine, but he put in an order for some pasta anyhow. By this time, C. is done with his own food and still sitting in silence. Linguine arrives. I begrudgingly eat my chicken and pasta (which was the best part of the meal) and echo C.'s silence with my own. We pay, leave the crowded restaurant and start the drive home...in silence. About half way home, C. blurts out..."I think everyone in that room thought we just broke-up!" To which I answered: "Who cares?! All I wanted was you to back me up on getting my pasta!"

Hello hormones.

So the moral of this story is: NO MENU GLITCH, NO WAITER, NO HUSBAND....NOTHING comes between pregnant Mel and her pasta!

On a much lighter note...We'll be painting the nursery a pale shade of blue this coming weekend to offset the espresso colored crib and dresser that The Dude has in his room. We actually just assembled the crib last week. And by we, I mean I held some of the pieces and made sure C. didn't make any scratches or dents on the soft pine frame while he grunted and groaned about finding the right screw and such. He did a fantastic job. I don't think the crib even sustained one scratch...YET. The super cute "mod star" bedding arrived today and a matching chocolate-colored rug is in-transit. Things are slowly, but surely starting to take shape. It's still all a bit overwhelming. And finally, a preview of what's to come: