LEFTOVERS!

Remember that line from Rush Hour? "Don't you ever touch a black man's radio?" I feel the same way. About food. With my pregnancy under way, I must admit, I have already had some pretty severe cravings. One of my classic Prego delicacies is that of Jim N Nick's: Kitchen Sink Nachos. If you are ever in the way of the south where they do have such a wonderful barbeque restaurant, I highly recommend this fabulous dish.

These nachos have everything. Hold the kitchen sink. Thus the name. I want them now, as I write, they are so wonderful. Can. Not. Resist.

They no longer do such deliveries through the drive through window, I learned with my two children in tow, on my way home from running a few errands on Monday. So, I kindly told the speaker voice I would call and then park in a parking space and wait patiently. It was worth the wait. I had to have them. I suffered the alloted ten minutes, and then (as I did not wish to be arrested for child neglect, even though my PARENTS always did it...) I unloaded both children to step into the facility and take ten paces to the bar.

"I want a baaaallloooooonnnnn!" Aiden begged. "I want some sweeeetttt teeeeeaaaaa!" (interject with a few sprinkles of Emerson's squeaks every now and again, in between) and by the time the nachos arrived, I knew I had not been an unnecessary martyr. They were mine. ALL MINE!

Fast forward to the night after. I had enjoyed my treasure, and the leftovers were sitting happily in the fridge, waiting for me to partake once again. Even if the richness of the food was paid for dearly in the form of gastrointestinal distress...ugh. It was worth it. 

As I sat, feeding Emerson at the table, Aiden partaking in his turkey and cheese sandwhich, I actually witnessed Jamin go to the fridge, get my well-paid-for-in-the-form-of-sufferage nachos and begin to eat them. 

"Seriously?" I sat, dumbfounded. 

Pause: To Jamin's credit, he has been absolutely wonderful. He came home to me curled up in the fetal position with cheerios, dirty dishes, laundry, and neglected children, after a full day at work, only to begin straightening up the house and caring for our kids. He has cleaned, folded, and cared for nearly everything I have not been able to do. So, I cannot let this go unrecognized.

I decided to share. IF he asked. 

He looked at me, puzzled. 

"I didn't say you could have those." 

"Oh." Jamin said, and much to my distain, promptly put them away. 

I then felt gulity. 

"Fine. You can have some." Keyword: SOME. 

Jamin then removes said item, yet again, from the fridge. 

Fast forward to the next day. What am I craving? Nachos. I promptly proceed to the fridge where I thought the remnants (however scarce) had been left. There were so many on this dish, I thought, surely he did not devour all of my pretties!

Were they there? NO! Jamin devoured them all!

I then promptly sent him a scathing email informing him that I did not give him permission to have ALL of them, and that there would be (insert bad word here) to pay for his horrible transgressions against that of his pregnant wife. 

His reply email was mockage. Sheer mockage. "You said I could have them. I paid for them anyway. MMM they were good."

At this point, I was fuming mad. "Food whore" I responded. 

"They were so good. They made you sick anyway. I saved you."

I then remembered the most holy sacrament of his mother's leftover homemade fudge pie, sitting innocently on the shelf. Jamin's absolute favorite. This was war. 

"Say goodbye to Mommy's Fudge pie!" I exclaimed through another email.

Ashley-1 Jamin-0 

Don't EVER touch a pregnant woman's leftovers!