The big disappointment

I should probably be grateful that I haven’t had the urge to start licking the creosote from fences or munching handfuls of cat litter. But I can’t help but feel a little let down that I haven’t had the slightest sniff of a weird food craving. Since I have been approaching this pregnancy a little like a science project (it’s the best way I can think of to stop myself screaming with fear on a daily basis), I was rather looking forward to observing myself from a detached distance as I binged on raw potato or wood shavings or whatever it is that pregnant women find themselves scoffing. But so far, nothing. What’s particularly galling is that my mother-in-law craved good, solid Eastern European peasant food throughout her first pregnancy and McDonalds all through her second. And I am sure, once the news breaks, she will tell me all about this and every other detail of her pregnancy, on a daily basis, until the end of time. I’m planning to tell her I’m craving Sauvignon Blanc. Which is true, as a matter of fact.