Love, in Practice

This morning was a doozy. The boy insisted he wanted to “watch tee-bee” rather than getting dressed and going to day care, and he physically fought our attempts to dress him. After we finally wrestled him into clothes, got him out the door and dropped him off, we headed down to the subway. We rushed to catch a train only to find that it wasn’t the one we needed. Instead, it was the Q — one that (on a very cold day) would have dropped me a couple of very long blocks from my office — so we passed and waited for the next train…. the next ill-fated train. (Note this deft use of foreshadowing…)

A few stops out, the train just stopped. We heard the train operators talking to one another over the PA system (sidenote: shouldn’t they have a private channel to talk to one another?), basically admitting that they didn’t know what was wrong. Then, after a few minutes of back-and-forth, and waiting, the train lurched back into action. But our exitement was short-lived. The train would be taken out of service at the next stop, we were informed.

After lumbering off the train and braving the super-crowded platform, we decided to surface and find a new subway station. Twenty minutes of freezing-cold adventuring later, we stood on another platform, and up pulled the Q train… the one I’d earlier passed up in favor of the one that would (allegedly) take me closer to the office.

By the time I was walking that long couple-of-blocks to the office, I began to think that maybe I deserved some kind of treat, some kind of consolation, for my awful morning. There’s an amazing French bakery near the entrance to my office building. Perhaps one of their super-rich almond croissaints would do. Hmm… I thought to myself… my usual breakfast of eggs on whole wheat toast is much better for me. It’d help me power through the morning with a little protein. But the croissaint is so good, I considered, and I’ve had a rough morning. On the other hand, the croissaint is also more expensive, and the last time I had one I almost felt sick from the amount of sugar. But I deserve a little indulgence now and then, don’t I?

Long story short(er), I walked into my normal breakfast place, not the French bakery, and the short-order cook recognized me and asked, “eggs on whole wheat toast?” All I had to do was nod. After all, real love is feeding myself something that will sustain me, and nourish me, and keep me going for a few hours. That’s what I really need after a rough morning.

—-

In the interest of full disclosure, I must report that I did end up getting one of those fabulous croissants later. But, thankfully, it wasn’t out of some desire to console myself for a bad morning.

In other news, we finally unearthed our scale from one of the boxes and I found out the damage from pregnancy (and holidays) so far. I’m now up at 221, an 8 lb gain. Not ideal, but not terrible either, at 19 weeks (and counting!). Also, a doctor’s visit today — the first at new (old) NYC doctor — went well.

And… I’ve been wondering when I’d receive DietGirl’s widely-celebrated new book, which I pre-ordered back in the summer. It took me some time (and reading a blog post) to realize it had probably been sent to our previous address. Indeed, I checked the site, and it is likely winging its way toward me now, due to the magic of mail forwarding. Hope I receive it soon because I’m dying to dig in!

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