This one isn’t baking related. Well, not technically. It is about a bun in the oven though.
I have come to the conclusion that pregnancy is like joining a cult.
At first you think you would never ever do it. Very few 14 year olds run around saying they are going to join a cult. Or at least don’t realize that they are. Those people are nuts! Why would anyone ever do that?! I never wanted a kid, in fact I was a pretty adamantly against the whole notion of letting someone else overrun my life just so I could pass on my far-less-than-perfect (and slightly twitchy) genes. I didn’t want to be the person with the screaming child at the Olive Garden. Why would anybody want to be the person with the screaming child at the olive garden.
Then you start taking those first tentative steps to culthood. Maybe you pass by a new church on the way to mall and think ‘they look like a fun group- and they have a cotton candy machine in front!’ <Translates to: ‘Awww Jane’s baby is sooo cute! I want one.’> You go to that church’s meet n’ greet and they seem like some cool people. They gave you candy and a cool little friendship bracelet that the pastor’s wife made. ‘I could hang around here.’ <Translates to: ‘And Jane’s baby is so well behaved! I could totally do this mommy thing!’>
Next thing you know you are counting the days until the supreme leader finishes building his spaceship- also known as ovulation tracking. This is your introductory cult. You aren’t wearing the blue tracksuit yet, but your measurements have been taken and you are just waiting for that sweatshop to finish the final embroidery on the front pocket. The ‘Trying to Conceive” or TTC population is crazy but they are crazy in an way that is almost acceptable. They are akin to the cult members that go do missionary work in Haiti but then go home to castrate their young men. If you don’t think that TTC people are nuts, go to thebump.com and hit up the TTC Community boards. (Mind you the pregnant people are even more psychotic – take a look at the 2nd Trimester boards!)
And then the spacecraft is built. The pee-stick has a second pink stripe and you are on a plane heading South America sitting next to a full grown man that calls himself Sunflower Jones. On my metaphorical trip (wearing my spiffy new Nikes) I learned how to crochet and made this adorable baby blankie and hat!
And now, with just 3 months left until the spaceship takes me to salvation or another star or wherever that guy in the white robe said we were going, I drank the Kool-Aid. It wasn’t grape flavored and I kinda feel gypped for that. It was super-sweet heavy orange flavored. They make pregnant people/cult pledges drink it to test for gestational diabetes. I guess there is no insulin on Hale Bopp so they gotta weed me out before I go taking up space on the ship.
OK. Rant done. I’ll get back to baking.
Now would anybody like to buy a pencil?