sympathy for the pregnant

A strange phenomenon has descended upon the Popepartment these last few days. It's a serious mystery that I'm going to put to you, Scoob & the Gang.

I have always always been a lady of the sweet teeth. In a perfect Jessie world where empty calories burn fat and exercise is but pish posh, I would live my life eating cinnamon rolls for breakfast, Thin Mints for lunch, and I would sup upon key lime pie with graham cracker crust. This is the Jessie I have always been.

In a perfect Sean world where eating as much red meat as you want in fact goes straight to the biceps and does not affect your cholesterol in the slightest, Sean would break his fast with 3 cheeseburgers, have elevensies consisting of cheeseburgers, lunch upon a 16 ounce rib eye, sneak an afternoon snack of cheeseburgers, and come home to a supper of filet mignon with a side of porterhouse and cheeseburgers. This is the Sean he's always been.

have you seen this Veggie Tales skit? Great. You've met Sean.

Lo, the last few weeks have seen a change-up. A veritable switcheroo. This baby I'm housing does not hanker for the sweets but rather the spicy, savory or salty. Also, he/she would just about kill for a classic margarita, rocks, easy salt. Aside from chocolate milk, I have nearly no cravings for the sugar. It's great! It's like kicking a drug habit - no dependency. There were times when Old Jessie literally felt addicted to chocolate and its companions, and ripped our pantry top to bottom looking for a Nestle chip that may have slipped out before that last bag was tidily devoured by yours truly.

And then there's New Sean. There we were Sunday, having an innocent Trader Joe's date, trolling the frozen aisle for peaches and blueberries for Jordan's and my morning smoothies, when Sean appears silently by my side holding a blue cardboard box labeled NEW YORK STYLE CHEESECAKE.
"We're getting this."
"Why?"
"I need it."
"Why?"
"I just need it don't ask questions."
"Fattie."

cheesecake: the new red meat.

Here's what going on: Sean is pregnant. Sean is sympathy pregnant. I've heard this happens to guys sometimes. Then I reflected further, and remembered Sean was raging sick for like two weeks after we first found out I was with child. In the meantime, I feel great and am eating really healthily. Sean is taking the brunt of this pregnancy. Which I think is moderately considerate of him, when you take into account I'm going to be doing the hard part in less than six months.

Let's not forget Jordan. She's also eating for two. Hold on, she's been doing that since pretty much birth.

 Chocolate Birthday Cupcake? Oui s'il vous plait.

Banana? Don't mind if I do.

Pea-Green Bean mashup with a side of swollen blocked tear duct? Perfect.

Does my belly make my rash guard look fat?

I think I ate all of Houston, Texas. That last armadillo is not settling too well.

Anyway, if you're wondering how it's going over here, I'm great. Apologies to any Insta-followers but I'm just gonna #regram our progress real quick:

Here we are at 13 weeks, but now I'm 14.

The baby was flailing his/her arms and legs all about during my ultrasound and the doctor proclaimed I had a "dancer" in there. Ah, so it's Jordan round 2. They'll be best of buds, and I really can't wait.