Liar.

I am a liar.

I said in my last post we didn’t eat fast food.  But I can remember the last time we did. *cringe*

It was McDonald’s. *double cringe* (Oh the sacrilege of a health fiend.)

But let me explain.  You see my husband ordered a keg for work (stop laughing, all work should have kegs!).  It was my job to pick it up.  Only at 8 months pregnant and contracting I refused to lift it.  Which is what the store required, as they wouldn’t transport it from the storefront to the car in the parking lot for me.  (I found this out by making sure hubby called ahead to ensure I wouldn’t have to lift a finger.)

So I picked up my husband early from work, with my 2 year old in the backseat.  We drove to the “nearby” beer store (nearby being my husband’s term…it was an hour away in traffic.)

Only then my 2 year old threw up.

All over herself.

And the carseat.

And the car.

And I didn’t bring a change of clothes (it was a “nearby” beer store remember?)  So we stripped off everything except her diaper.

Then my husband got the keg and loaded it into the car.  At which time I (the large pregnant lady) was famished.  I had calculated we could get this “nearby” erron done and be home in an hour.  We were an hour and a half in and not even on the way home yet.

And the only food place within my 5-minute-pregnant-food-panic-window was across the parking lot.  McDonald’s.  And with said small child dressed in only a diaper, I refused to go inside.

Only outside, it was sweltering.  So there I was, pregnant and sweaty and hungry.  My husband ran in and got some french fries.  He popped the trunk and we all sat around the keg.

The pregnant lady.  The naked toddler.  The fast food. And the beer.

It was a memorable moment.

Sigh.

And on the way home the keg scratched the tint off my hatchback window, rubbing against the glass as we cornered turns.  So now I will always remember the day, I ate McDonald’s.

Sorry for lying.  It’s just not something I like to share.

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