My wife, my calf

During my most recent two dr. appointments, I've logged two weight losses. Two pounds each visit for a total of four pounds.

Mr. K who is just NOW reading this book by Dr. Barbara Luke (after months of listening to me say "You know, Dr. Barbara Luke says I should be taking a nap right now instead of helping you decide where to put things in the garage) has now decided that his main mission in life is to make me his own personal fatted calf. Seriously, he is getting Biblical with his obsession.

Whenever I call him after an OB or MFMS visit, his first question is "How's your weight?"

So you can imagine how happy he was to hear that I had lost yet another two pounds.

I swear it was the defeated sigh that could be heard across the 3G network land.

Clearly I am no waif and I am not wasting away, but as you all know I was pretty sick for the first, oh, I don't know MERE SEVEN MONTHS of this pregnancy and if I don't take my two Zo.friends a day, I still get sick, so food has been difficult for me. That said, I really do need to eat a little more. But not as much as Mr. K (or Dr. Barbara Luke) would have me consume.

You see, Mr. K believes that if I don't gain enough weight, it will somehow retard the development of our wee babes. Which is true to an extent, except that every single level II ultrasound I've had has shown that the Twinks are growing steadily and are very healthy weights. They always fall somewhere in the 60-80% so I have never been worried and neither have my docs. Mr. K however is a different story.

So now every single day he asks me what I want to eat...not just at that moment or for dinner in a few hours, but for several days.

For instance, on Thursday, I will get: "Do you want Chili Verde for dinner on Saturday?"

And on Tuesday I will get: "Do you want bacon for breakfast (in three days)?"

Plus he's constantly trying to lace my food with protein powder. Then when I discover the foul tasting stuff we get into the "just have one more bite" debate. I swear he has reduced me to being three years old with his antics.

It does have its benefits though. Mr. K will basically bring me anything that suits my whim as long it is high in protein or calories. Most times.

Lately I have been craving a lot of frozen yogurt from a place called SkinniDip. When I asked him to stop and get me some on his way home, he replied "Babe, I don't think that stuff has enough calories. You don't need SkinniDip, what YOU need is FATDip."

I'm pretty sure no place called FatDip would bring in a lot of customers (except perhaps husbands of women pregnant with multiples) but the suggestion alone did illicit a giggle from me. Well played, Mr. K, well played.