Pregnancy makes you realize that you don’t pamper yourself enough. Like how you decided you didn’t need one of your favorite foods because it was just one more store to drag the kids to, more gas spent to get it, more money to be spent on something just for you. But then you start to crave it, desire it, dream it. So you strap in the kids, making it the last place in the line of shops, just in case they act up, because really it’s only something for you. Then you make it to the store because the kids are like angels. You walk in, collect the food items, select the shortest line that miraculously is the shortest line. The cashier tells you the total. $3.50. Yup, I’ve been depriving myself of heavenly Trader Joe’s Spicy Hummus Dip and whole wheat pitas to save $3.50. The Husband spends more on a beer. And I realize I’m getting real tired of playing the martyr. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to enjoy my lunch as I force the boys to have PB&J instead of the McDonald’s they were begging for.