Mommy the martyr

This morning, I dropped Dan off at Parents Morning Out for a much-needed break. And off I went. My first stop is always the Burger King up the street for my one, last guilty pleasure - a sausage and cheese croissant. Somehow I can eat this without vomiting. Go figure.

Then, it was off to Target to find some preggo pants that fit. I'm already getting big and many of the bottoms from the last time around don't fit over my enormous hips. Oh, and I really wanted to get myself a bathing suit. Hand-me downs are great, but if I'm going to sweat through another summer pregnancy, then by-gosh (G-rated for your reading enjoyment), I'm going to wear one of my own choosing, thank you very much. That, along with a brand-new pair of shoes, was actually purchased at full price. That's so unusual for me. I usually scour bargain racks and thrift shops for my clothes. Of course, I did later wind up at the thrift shop and found the cutest shoes and a dress. Old habits die hard.

I almost felt a little guilty buying new stuff. That's really the only mommy guilt I ever feel. I even felt a little guilty buying new underwear a few weeks ago. Why is this? Martyrdom is not my thing, yet I can go into a store, gather up some things I would like to have and convince myself I don't really need them before getting to the register. It's like frugality gone haywire. Of course, I couldn't leave without picking up a few things for Danny.

Another thing ... with this pregnancy, I am a lot more emotional than I was with Dan. I started to tear up in the greeting card aisle while reading a father's day card. I'm so ashamed of myself. But I quickly recovered this afternoon when a telemarketer called for the third time in three days ... use your imagination (G-rating censor here) ... he won't be calling again. He may be in therapy for a while.