Ever since Phil and I found out we are expecting, he has been so good to me. He brings my medicine/vitamins with a big glass of water, he cooks almost every meal since I can't stand the smells, and he makes sure I'm comfortable. Being the type of person I am, I don't like having a big fuss made about me. I feel very guilty/ashamed if I feel like I'm getting too much attention. I try to say "please" and especially "thank you" to Phil as often as I can. I just want him to know how much I appreciate him and his caring ways.
However, with it being me, (a
To preface this story, I love spaghetti; especially spaghetti sauce. Not just any sauce, mind you. I love Ragu. I could eat Ragu - flavored with meat straight out of the bottle! I am also very picky about my spaghetti. I really don't like anything but noodles and sauce. No meat chunks, no veggies, nothing. Whether it was like this before or not, I realized soon after I became pregnant that there are little dehydrated onion pieces in the Ragu sauce. If it was there before, it did not bother me. However, now I find ever single onion and I hate it! It makes me so very sad because I love Ragu so much :( With that in mind, we decided to make our own sauce using canned tomato sauce and seasoning it ourselves.
Tonight was the first night we tried this new sauce. Since I felt sick, as usual, Phil made dinner. He brought a plate to me and I took a bite. It tasted really weird. The sauce was slightly sweet, but earthy at the same time. I took another bite. I knew exactly what happened.
"Phil, did you put rosemary in this?"
"Just one little shake, why?"
I've used several recipes that call for rosemary and I never like it. I just don't like the way rosemary tastes on just about anything. I tried picking out the rosemary pieces and it ends up taking a lot of time. I tried just eating the spaghetti anyways and I could barely make it through half the noodles. I could not stand the taste and it made me so sad. At this point, Phil realized I was not really eating and offered to run out and get more sauce to make a new batch.
I can't tell you if it was the fact that I was so hungry and wanted to eat with better sauce or if it was my fear of becoming a pregnazilla, (yes, I'm making it a word!), that I started to cry. I couldn't bear the thought of making Phil wait to eat dinner just to make more sauce for me. Phil threw his arms around me and assured me it would be ok. He offered to get more and I was not turning into a pregnazilla. Phil kissed my forehead and ran to Walgreen's for some more sauce.
When he got back, I offered to season the sauce myself while he made some new noodles. Once everything was done, we had a great meal together :)
Sometimes I wonder about my sanity. Who else would cry over spaghetti sauce?! Luckily I have a wonderful husband who loves me and bebe enough to endure my crazy emotions.
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