Tag Archives: Marshmallow

Now with Marshmallows

If we’re friends on Facebook then you’ve already read the status update:

“Mark: Are you sure it’s ok? Me: Well, you can’t get me MORE pregnant… right?”

That’s right, McKinney Oates Cereal now comes with marshmallows.

Baby shaped marshmallows.

Baby shaped marshmallows that come out of NOT baby shaped holes.

Baby shaped marshmallows that are rumored to demand to be fed every 2 hours. Even when those hours fall during prime sleep time.

No, really, I’m excited. Promise.

In all seriousness, we are surprisingly thrilled. We took a pregnancy test a few weeks ago and as Mark started the speech he has given every time I’ve taken a pregnancy test (“Marie, you’re kind of melodramatic and taking a pregnancy test every time you’re 2 days late is getting kind of old…“) he interrupted himself with a resounding:

“Oh. Shit.”

The digital thermometer pee stick thing was blinking THE word.

Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.

“Oh, shit”, indeed.

I’m not going to lie. I held my breath because I had no clue how Mark was going to react to this. I mean, it was literally days ago when he was protesting the very idea of a little one, and I just wasn’t sure what this meant in his world.

But when I looked up he was smiling. Ear to ear smiling.

Again. Not going to lie. I asked him if it was a “I’m so happy!” smile or a “I’m about to have a psychotic break” smile. I really did not know, People.

He assured me it was a happy smile.

I eventually turned the analysis inward. What did I think about it? What did I think about motherhood and parenting and, uh, Marshmallow’s impending exit strategy?

I smiled, too.

Because all cereal is better with marshmallows, right?

*Note:
I am not out of the first trimester, yet. According to The Internet, I am on Week 8 and the baby is due on April 6th and it’s a girl. Part of me hesitates to put this out here so early because if there is one post I don’t want to write it is the “We miscarried” post (cue my mom rebuking the devil because I used the m-word), but I have to say that I’m really too excited to keep quiet. So rebuke away, Mom, rebuke away.

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