Back in the days when I was pregnant with Evan and working and the economy was rolling, The Husband and I ate out about three dinners a week or more. Our favorite was sushi. We had a neighborhood sushi restaurant with the most amazing rolls like an awesome dynamite roll and my favorite a killer spicy tuna roll. We probably went at least once a week from the grand opening on, and yes, we got to know the owner quite well.
But then I was pregnant. And all those books and websites said NO SUSHI. And that lasted about two weeks when I learned The Husband felt no moral obligation to give up sushi as well. (Bastard.) So we returned to sushi. My beloved sushi, how I missed you. For several months, we did well and only ordered the cooked stuff. We feasted on crab, shrimp, scalloped and the occasional cooked fish. But in time, my beloved spicy tuna handroll began to call me again. I gave in to its spicy yumminess.
For The Husband’s birthday (when I was 36 weeks), I surprised him with a huge sushi party platter custom made from our favorite sushi place and a few friends. As I indulged, I forgot that one of our friends worked for my OB/GYN. Ok, I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t sneaky enough. She caught me. And lectured me. Damn.
So the next doctor’s appointment, The Husband felt the need to confess. (Which is odd, because he’s not the Catholic one.)
Doctor: So any questions?
The Husband: Yes, one. Well, and a confession.
The Husband: Well, um, we, Fae has been eating sushi, and we were told that was bad for the baby.
Doctor: The reason we don’t want Fae eating sushi is because of the danger of food poisoning. If you go to a reputable place, there shouldn’t be any harm.
We sighed with relief.
Me: So, sushi tonight?