my husband is a patient guy

Augh, so pregnancy has been pretty good so far. I'm 8 months along, I was only sick for one, I have felt good other than that the whole time, and I'm not necessarily as big as a house (yet). I have had some minor issues -- I'm hot a lot and I sometimes have trouble sleeping. Emotionally, I'm a little, shall we say, closer to the edge than before. (Some would perhaps observe that I wasn't all that far before.;)) But today's little episode ended with me crying my eyes out in -- should I say the name of the place? -- OK, I will -- Hooters -- yes, that Hooters -- and running out the door.

It all started when I decided I wanted to go out for brunch and I wanted an omelette and toast and/or crepes and/or pancakes -- that type of food. You know, like a good yummy cafe. We remembered this cafe someone told us about recently and decided to try it. However we were a little slow getting going and by the time we got there, it was 2:56 p.m. I knew they closed at 3, but there were several tables of people in there still eating so I thought maybe it was one of those things where they let whoever in until the cut-off and that's it. Looking back, I shouldn't have asked, but the former server in me just couldn't sit down w/o asking. When I asked if they were closed, they said yes, even though the door was wide open and no one told me "Hey we're closed" when I walked in. OK.

So we get in the car and go to another cafe we know. I'm really kind of hungry by now. We sit down, figure out what we want, and the server comes. He says, "I'm sorry, no hot food now, just cold salads and sandwiches." Auuugh! You know when you want something very specific? And other things are not going to do? This phenomenon seems to be magnified during the gestational period. Actually I would have settled for a hot sandwich. I did not want cold stuff. I wanted something COOKED. OK.

So we go to the Mission, a very yummy Mexican/Americanish fusion cafe downtown. It's probably 3:40 by the time we get there. The server outside tells us they closed at 3. I'd be very happy with IHOP by now, but we both don't remember exactly where it is downtown, never having been to IHOP here. And by now I'm ravenous. And hot. And tired. And frustrated. I know I am not describing anything significant or important right now. I know that my life is easy when this is the worst thing that has happened in my pregnancy. I know that. I was still ravenous and hot and tired and hormonal. In the car, I tell Alexander that I almost cried when they weren't open.

So now we're driving around downtown, hoping to find both a suitable restaurant and a parking spot in the same vicinity. Not easy on a Saturday when you want breakfast at 4 pm. Well, I had given up on breakfast. But still not easy.* I did not want anything very ethnic, except maybe French (and the Mission does not count as Mexican). I wanted eggs or else a warm chicken sandwich or something like that. So we are driving and suddenly we see a parking spot, right in front of.....Hooters. Alexander suggests it and I say OK. I think it will have the kind of sandwich I want. There's a parking space. I'm starving. I'm in no position to be any more discriminating than that. We get in there. A few quizzical looks at my belly. Women are rare in there, I think, most especially obviously pregnant ones. I see with relief that there is a family with 3 young kids in there. We sit near them so we can pretend that we are at TGI Friday's and not where we really are. As we sit down, I realize that there is no air conditioning in this place, that everyone seems to be fanning themselves madly with menus, and the temperature is roughly the same in there as the earth's molten core. I think, "I can't stand this. I can't stand this temperature." Then I think about how hungry I am and how far we've come. And how it's hot outside, and I'll have to walk, and find another place, or find a whole different rare parking spot outside a different restaurant...or stay here. It's all too much. I say to Alexander, "I'm going to cry." He looks at me in sympathy/faint hopes that I'm just exaggerating. Suddenly I burst out into great, body-wracking sobs and bury my face in my hands. He jumps up. "Baby, baby, baby. Do you want to go somewhere else?" "I d-d-don't know," I sob. He says something else. I mumble something about being so uncomfortable I can't stand it (it really is hot in there, plus I'm really hot when everyone else is fine these days) and then I just get up, sobbing, and waddle out of there as fast I can. Halfway out I remember to put my shades on to preserve a shred of dignity. I have no idea what those people thought...

We get in the car and find another place, a nice cool, air-conditioned Irish restaurant/pub with hardly anyone in it and yummy sandwiches, and parking nearby. I don't even cry when they tell me they've stopped serving breakfast. A major victory.
The end.


*One other consideration (in my mind -- Alexander did NOT bring this up) was money. The originally-recommended cafe was recommended for its inexpensiveness and its yumminess. Downtown there are several way overpriced touristy bar/grill places that probably spend way more time on their drink recipes than their food. I didn't feel like spending $30 to eat mediocre food when our original plan was for good, cheap breakfast.