I haven't actually thrown up yet. THANK GOD. I hate feeling nauseous all the time and a sane person would probably want to hurl in the hopes of getting some semblance of relief, but no sir, not me. Even though I haven't done this pregnancy thing before, I am smart enough to know that all the barfing in the world will not relieve the incessant nausea that makes the process of acting as host organism to a slooooooow-grooooowwwwwing being of the human variety so enjoyable. Why make myself miserable with my head in the toilet five times a day when I can be miserable in front of the TV, or with my face buried in a book instead of a trash can?

My gag reflex, however, has not escaped unscathed. As I sit here watching the Michael Jackson special (what a bizarre day), I am also trying hard not to dry heave at the stench of my dogs' wet food filling every square inch of air space in our house after their evening feeding. And GOD FORBID that we try to feed them their dry food sans wet food. They would rather starve, and usually that's what they do if given the choice. Cody is not here to do the job so I get to take on the task myself, in all my nauseous, pregnant glory. There is also something particularly gag-tastic when the feeding requires that we open a new can of food, as I had to tonight, which means that it hasn't been refrigerated, which means that it's warm-ish and the aroma is that much more intense. But they ate, and they are happy, and true to post-meal fashion, they are running around wrestling with each other as if someone gave them a 14-liter dose of pure liquid speed.

Come to think of it, the dry food is pretty foul-smelling too, and so are these chew bones we got them from Costco. Every time I open our pantry I hold my breath to avoid the smell, which, so I've been told, smells very similar to marmite, something I will NEVER EAT AS LONG AS I LIVE.

I hate anything involving poop, but I don't think that has anything to do with being pregnant. And boy, am I glad that we have had healthy dogs for the past several weeks. April was a rough month for our dogs and the owner who had to clean up after them: me.

I cannot stand coffee right now. The smell, the taste, EVERYTHING. Just the thought of drinking coffee gives me heartburn.

Carrots. I don't even want to look at a carrot. When I look at carrots, I think about the sensation of chewing them, and it makes me sick. Cooked, raw, blanched, dipped in ranch dressing, it doesn't matter. Don't give me carrots.

THOR has an ear infection. How do I know this for sure? Well, besides the fact that after his bath today I had to cut a handful of bloody hair out of his ear, the smell was otherworldly. I distinctly remember describing the odor emanating as I retrieved his "stool" (if you could even call it that) from our bathtub (that story requires a whole other post) as "otherworldly." So there ya go.

The Italian sandwich we serve where I work. Unfortunately for me, it's a very popular sandwich.

The smell of cooking chicken… good God that has to be the all-time worst. Worse than the dog food. Worse than the poop. Worse than the ear infection. Cody has made some doozies in the weeks since I've been pregnant and I finally had to cut him off, I just couldn't take it anymore. If it's baking in the oven with other things in the dish, this is not a problem. But if you're cooking it on the stove top, PLEASE SPARE ME THE TORTURE. Actually, I could handle writing about everything else I just wrote about, but just thinking about the stench I endured on those nights that Cody innocently set about making dinner for himself makes me want to make a beeline for the bathroom.

There is a flipside to this, however. We went on a little light rail adventure with our friends Alex and Ryan on Saturday evening with the mission of eating at Lolo's Chicken and Waffles. Little did we know, it was more than a mile walk through The Hood from the nearest light rail stop to Lolo's, and it was more than 100 degrees outside, and the whole way there we were like, this had better be good, and OMG, what if we get there and they're only open for breakfast! And hey! What do you think the odds are of making it to Lolo's vs. getting gunned down in a drive-by vs. suffocating from heat stroke! Because I'm personally thinking the drive-by is the most likely! Needless to say, we didn't do our research, but we made up for our ignorance with pure, unadulterated determination. Half an hour later, we walked up to one of the most ghetto-fied buildings we have ever seen: boarded windows with broken glass still sitting on the sills, bricked-in windows, chipping paint, and an upturned shopping cart for a lawn ornament. We made our entrance- two couldn't-be-whiter boys and their wives- and were immediately greeted by two things: the overwhelmingly appetizing smell of bona-fide soul food, and murmurs of the more appropriate patrons asking each other, "What are all these honkies doing in here?"

All I can say after my oh-so-satisfying meal at Lolo's is that they can call me whatever they want as long as I get to eat their food. It was a soul-altering experience. I can say with utmost certainty that I will be getting more cravings for chicken and waffles, ONLY FROM LOLO'S, AND KFC IS NOT AN ACCEPTABLE ALTERNATIVE, than any other food during the baby-building process. Hopefully Cody can put up with being called a Honky long enough for me to pop out this kid, who will no doubt look more like a fried chicken or a waffle than either one of us once I'm through with it.