Graham Crackers and Milk.... I WOULD KILL FOR MILK.

I've had a few food aversions.

There are some foods that I used to love, that right now, oddly bother me. One of those things is good old fashioned homemade macaroni and cheese (though the boxed kind does not bother me). I also can't eat most pasta meals and maybe only one slice of pizza when I LOVE pizza.

I do, however, crave veggies and fruit. I eat a salad nearly every day and crave Granny Smith Apples like I love red wine. WHAT KIND OF STRANGE PREGNANT LADY AM I??

Of course, sometimes the mere thought of eating anything makes me quite queasy still (this is going away any time now, right?), but for the most part, I take all of that advice to eat small meals throughout the day. It hasn't really seem to make much of a difference, but it does keep the heartburn down. And because of this little meal heavy diet, I have an entire pantry stocked with organic animal crackers, dried fruit (but suddenly don't like raisins), granola, fig newtons and all kinds of nuts (that, incidentally, I no longer like).

Which is why, for my 3:30 meal, I had graham crackers and Nutella. But all I wanted was a glass of cold milk to go with my crackers -- not, as it happens, my 700 ml bottle of Poland Spring. I really, really wanted milk. But, I could not bring myself to pour a cup of milk from the office "coffee supply" milk jug. I felt that was cheating.

So instead, I made myself a hot chocolate with about a quarter of the packet, about a teaspoon of water.. and then topped it off with lovely, wonderful, cold milk.

I feel it's a good compromise. But just in case, I'm going to be bringing in my own milk for the office fridge.

Doesn't it suck when people post about their dreams?

It does suck when people post about their dreams, so I'll make this short. And I'm only doing it because it was funny (and in case parts of it come true). I dreamt I gave birth to a boy in a very quick and painless delivery. And the Pretend Husband and I were then trying to decide between two names: "iPod" and "The Pretenders." I never found out what we chose because, two days after I gave birth, and because the delivery was so easy, I volunteered to give birth to someone else's twin girls (not carry them, mind you, just give birth to them). And I kept talking about how unusual it was to give birth twice in two days. My sister was there, but I don't think the twins were hers; I think she was just there to visit little iPod (or little The Pretenders).

So guess all you want about what this means, but I'm warning you that one of us-- the one who didn't just have her 20-week ultrasound that confirmed only one baby-- will definitely not appreciate any insinuations that my dream is a prediction. I'm just sayin'.

She's either pregnant or trying to shoplift a soccer ball under her shirt

Another milestone in pregnancy-ville: last week, for the first time, a stranger noticed I'm pregnant. I was helping a woman who had come into my office when she suddenly asked, "When are you due?" My first thought was: "September." And my second thought was: "Boy, are you brave!"

Because, I don't know about you, but I pretty much won't ask a woman I don't know about her pregnancy unless a) she's wearing a T-shirt proclaiming her current state or b) the baby is crowning while she breathes through the labor pains. Anything else is just risky.

I've heard a bunch of stories lately from people who asked others about their pregnancy, including a guy who was attending a wedding with his wife. Trying to make conversation with a couple at their table, he asked the woman, "When are you due?" and was mortified when she answered in a frosty tone, "I'm not pregnant." There is just no recovering from that, and the poor guy spent the rest of the reception not speaking to the people at his table.

And Kat's lil sis is still miffed at the fast food worker who, six weeks after she gave birth, looked her stomach and inquired about her due date.

Although I was surprised someone had the guts to ask about my pregnancy, I wasn't offended. It means I no longer look like I'm just packing on the pounds, but the weight gain actually looks like a pregnancy. Now, strangers coming up and touching my belly? That's a different story.

Please keep your salmon salad 5 miles away at all times.

So far, my favorite pregnancy-related symptom hasn't been the nausea. Nor the four times in one night up to pee. Nor has it been the bloat that comes before the belly. Or the break-outs that bring me back to high school.

No, no.

My all time favorite thing so far is my ability to sniff out every single scent, odor, fragrance, etc within a two mile radius.

It's kind of crazy. And generally, it's helpful. I can recognize ingredients before looking at a dish. I can tell when it's time to do the laundry well before my hamper is overflowing. And I know when my husband has eaten the last Oreo before I even come downstairs.

Unfortunately, I can no longer stand the smell of my own house. The combination of the leather couch, new carpet and J's abundant use of "Fantastik" has overwhelmed my senses. I'm fine with the upstairs. But the downstairs - where I spend all of my time - has got to go. I'm not sure if scented candles are the answer, or if I just need to spend the entire weekend with the windows open.

But something has got to give. Either I need to have an army of Keebler elves start baking away, or I need an unscented febreeze kind of fix.

So I beg you, Internet. Please help.

Don't let SJ fool you. She didn't get pregnant for the blog-- she did it for me.

So, exciting times around here, huh? Although that's about all the excitement I can take until the funny kids arrive in the fall. So don't expect any more big announcements from us, unless SJ finds out she's having twins (ha! I love the look on her face when I say that!)

If you've come to know me at all through this blog, you know that I am not capable of-- say-- calling kat's lil sis and simply announcing, "SJ is pregnant too!" Nope. Instead, I called lil sis and said, "So I take it you're not going to be pregnant with me."

And she FREAKED OUT. "KAT, are you kidding? I had a baby three months ago!"

I replied, "I just thought it would be nice to be pregnant with someone."

She continued yelling, "Did you really think I was going to get pregnant so soon. Are you crazy?"

I think she would have kept going, but I interrupted and said, "I wanted someone to be pregnant with. Lucky for you, I convinced SJ to do it instead."

Silence. Then, "SJ is pregnant?" and all sorts of celebration on the other end of the phone (I'm guessing it was part excitement for SJ and part relief that I didn't seriously expect her to be pregnant again).

As I said in the comments (and have said to SJ in person a bunch of times), Congratulations! I'm excited to have someone to go through all of this pregnancy craziness with, I think it will be cool to have our kids so close in age (we joke that they are destined to be best friends or future spouses) and, on behalf of little sis, thanks for getting pregnant so she didn't have to.