Ranty McGee

Warning: Another pregnancy-related post.

You know, I think I've been pretty good about not being a hormonal nightmare during this pregnancy so far.

With a few pregnancies under my belt, I've been able to recognize that I've had way fewer of those out-of-body experiences where you stand aside and watch yourself act like a raving lunatic, realizing you're being nuts, but helpless to do anything other than apologize later.

I haven't had any uncontrollable crying jags or wildly irrational behavior -- at least nothing that's noteworthy anyway.

Not like my girlfriend who, upon watching an MTV marathon of Newlyweds -- which included the one where Nick filled the house with several bushels of long-stemmed roses for his beloved Jessica just because -- totally bitched out her husband for not being as sweet, thoughtful or apparently rich as Nick.

Or even me, while pregnant with the twins and after driving through McDonald's to satisfy my daily McGriddle craving (oh, the thought now grosses me out!), heard a lady win $100 on the radio and cried all the way to work because she sounded like she needed the money so badly. I was such a blubbering mess, my boss asked if I was OK.

But I've noticed a few rant-heavy posts around here that make me think I may be channeling my bizarro behavior here to my blog. And I fear you may wonder if I'm starting to lose it.

So, regardless of what you've read here or here, things are actually going pretty well on the pregnancy front. And my family is not huddled in the basement, fearing for my next outburst.

My food cravings have been fairly minimal -- only a few times when I just had to have pineapple-orange juice or baby carrots (which I consumed in the grocery store parking lot), oh, and a couple trips to McDonald's for the McSkillet Burrito. (I know, what is it with fast-food breakfast?!?)

Some friends of mine were sharing their preggo cravings stories, making mine sound ridiculously trivial. One stopped at a local diner every morning for months on end and ordered the same, big breakfast. When, late into her pregnancy, she failed to show up one morning (overslept or some benign reason), everyone breathed a sigh of relief when she appeared the next day.

"Oh, baby," said the big lady behind the counter. "We were so worried about you."

Did I mention that when she'd walk in, they'd have her order ready and waiting for her?

My other friend told me she'd wake up in the middle of the night and eat an entire box of fruit loops nearly every night. Also, at her lunch break, she'd walk/waddle down to the corner street vendor and buy two Mexican chorizo sausages. She'd eat one on the way back and the other would be an afternoon snack. Chorizo. The greasiest sausage known to man. Every. Single. Day. She said the thought of it now makes her stomach turn.

No, I've been pretty tame so far. Just a few light-to-moderate cravings and hormonal outbursts that rank pretty low on the Richter Scale.

But I do so love hearing stories of pregnancy-induced crazy. They make me feel normal at a time when my body feels so out of control.

Trying to negotiate around the belly is getting increasingly challenging and the number on the scale is starting to freak me out a little. But I know, it's a temporary state with temporary complaints that will completely disappear when Sweet Pea arrives.

The weight will come off and my sense of order will return and this blog will look a little less ranty.

At least I hope so.