300 calories per day. That’s supposedly what a pregnant woman needs, in addition to her normal calorie intake, to support the babe growing inside. 300 calories just isn’t much. A bag of Skittles is almost 300 calories. We’re often told that women are eating for two, that an increase in appetite is to be expected. Where’s the room for the pickles and ice cream? A couple of pickles in themselves would take care of the 300, never mind the ice cream.

Recipes for cakes, cookies, and pies beckon, whispering “Hey, you’re pregnant – you can have this stuff, you’re _supposed_ to be gaining weight”. “Pick me”, and another one “don’t forget about me”. But pregnancy overindulgences can’t be sweated away – no 3 mile runs a couple of times a week, no strenuous weight-lifting, nothing that pushes the heart rate up over whatever that magic number is. Any weight gained just gets a free ride until after the baby is born.

So I have to keep my cookbooks under lock and key. No pulling out those magic combinations of flour, sugar, and eggs to make some wonderful delicacy. Any goodies made have to be carefully scheduled to be shared with some guest’s unsuspecting waistline. Hey, that’s why I love potluck dinners! I can make the most delicious things without having to worry about whether it’ll be Jason’s or my belt that needs to get replaced.