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Since getting knocked up, I have been wanting the strangest food. Not strange for regular folk, mind you, but strange for me. Case in point: I want mayonnaise. ALL THE TIME. I have never in my life liked mayonnaise. As a child, I always thought it looked like cream cheese or something awesomer than mayonnaise and was always disappointed. As a teenager, I hated how everything people made seemed to be bound with the stuff – tuna sandwiches, veggie burgers, all coated in mayo. Ugh. And as a vegan adult, I’ve just never touched the stuff. I’ve made the odd batch of veganaise, which is, I should add, pretty awesome stuff in itself. But genuine mayonnaise is something I only keep in the fridge for Andrew and I don’t even want to know how old the stuff was that we had until recently. Yikes.

But today I wanted mayonnaise. With roast beef and cheese and mustard on an onion bun. None of these things (save the mustard) are things I ate pre-preggo with any regularity. And yet here we are. The sandwich was YUMMY and while it may come up in an hour, I don’t care. It was totally worth it. Vegan Ezmy will return, I’m told, after the baby is born…or at least some variation of her will. But right now she has been replaced by Omni Ezmy. Omni-mayo-lovin’ Ezmy.

In other news, I’ve been having terrible baby dreams. Dreams that the child has no head. Dreams that the child is two children and we’re looking at the ultrasound and one of the babies is beating the crap out of the other one. Dreams that the baby has no legs or arms or has one eye. Dreams that the baby is dead. Frightening, awful dreams. Apparently this too is normal but given that I’m prone to horrific, Stephen King-style nightmares when I’m not pregnant, I suspect my baby nightmares are more graphic than most. It’s all very troubling. So much so, that until I see that ultrasound and confirm that none of my dreams are true, I remain skeptical.

Right, back to the mayo. Nom nom.