Isn't it sad? The hunk of heaven on the left is jam packed with sharp cheddar and mustard, two of my favorite things in the world. And I still can't eat it. And the crust, well, Llama Dog generally helps me eat that, because apparently I am a 5 year old when it comes to my sandwiches. Which is probably why he looks like this 99.7% of the time that I'm eating.
It is super cute until you feel guilty for eating the last bit of your own meal because you're depriving the dog of its one joy in life. Maybe I should have thought more about this whole table scraps thing when he was little.
In other news, I thought I was going in to labor last night, but I wasn't. I feel like this is becoming a pattern. A very depressing, anxiety inducing pattern. Andplusalso, I started actually reading the birthing book I got so many moons ago, and it is simultaneously increasing and decreasing my fear of labor and delivery. I didn't even know that was possible.
Reading it pretty much goes like this.
Oh my gosh! I have to push a baby out of my vajay! It's going to hurt so bad! But I can handle it! But holy cow, did you know it's going to hurt for hours and hours? Dude, you've got this, you're a champion. A champion of PAIN! No! A champion of growing a baby and then pushing it out of your body all by yourself because you're a bad A.
Rinse and Repeat.
So pretty much I have all of the feelings in the world about childbirth now, and they are just building up and eventually will explode. Probably around the same time my body does, resulting in a small creature Mr. Llama and I will then be responsible for that we can't just put in a kennel to calm down.
This is going to be fun.
What is your favorite thing to eat for lunch? When was the last time you hurled? How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?
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