With my last pregnancy, I spent quite a bit of time thinking about ice cream. Quite a bit. I ate a different pint of ice cream every week, just to see how many different flavors of Ben and Jerry I could check off the list. This time? Not so much. I was just thinking to myself last week how interesting it was that I didn't really have any consistent cravings, just wild, short-lived desires for very specific foods. Sure, those foods were total junk (Doritos, anyone? Cheetos? Sour Gummy Life Savers?), but after one indulgence I was (usually) able to put it out of my head.
I guess I spoke too soon. All I can think about right now is chocolate and cookie dough and buffalo sauce. Not together, of course. Here I am on Day Three of homemade buffalo chicken wraps and I am absolutely DEVASTATED that we're out. Out of chicken, out of ranch dressing, and now scheming to find a Buffalo Mac and Cheese recipe that we can whip up as we work our way through our weekly meal plan.
And why did I not bring any chocolate to work today? That was dumb. Seriously.