One thing I’ve learned about my pregnant body is it requires a fairly steady stream of fuel to keep my blood sugar constant and my mood relatively stable. If things get out of whack, I start saying things that I don’t really mean and not having real memory of saying them.
Like last night around 6:30, I could feel my blood sugar bottoming out. I was holding the key to my feeling better – a container of leftover spaghetti – that I was trying to maneuver into the microwave to warm up for my dinner, but I had a persistent obstacle in my way trying to feel me up. Michael later told me that I said,
“I will love you after I put this in the microwave.”
This was only a few days after I was frantically trying to finish dinner before I became catatonic from lack of food, and John was asking me incessant questions about the Easter bunny that I reportedly blurted out:
“The Easter bunny was made up by people who don’t believe in Jesus, ok?”
I’m wondering now if crazy bloggers and Rush Limbaugh are really just suffering from chronic low blood sugar. Because clearly I love Michael at all times and I don’t think the Easter bunny was made up by people who needed a replacement narrative for Christ. But out it came anyway.