Tuesday, June 16, 2009


I guess you can say that I had my first big pregnancy meltdown this past week. I have had a few small ones, but usually they occur at home and only in front of David. Nothing embarrassing yet, but that all changed last week.

It was our last night at the beach and we headed out to dinner a little later than we had the nights before. After eating seafood pretty much all week, we decided that we were going to head out for Italian. A place was recommended, but it wasn't really what we were looking for, so we decided to ride up the road a bit to find something else. Well, evidently everyone else had the same idea we had because it seemed that every Italian restaurant we stopped at was either not what we wanted, too expensive, or had too long of a wait already. We knew things would be crowded on a Friday night but we didn't think it was worth the wait. Plus, there are a million restaurants in the Myrtle Beach area so we figured we could find somewhere without a long wait.

Well, after over an hour in the car and three restaurants later, we decided to ride up north to the next small town that is usually less crowded. David's dad had the responsibility to jump out of the car and run in to check things out. We stop at the first Italian restaurant we see, he jumps out and soon returns waving us to come in. The place was small and there was not a wait, but there were enough people eating there so it seemed safe. I of course run to the bathroom while the others sit down. When I return David and his parents had already ordered drinks and were looking at their menu. I start studying the menu and the longer I look at it the more I realize there was nothing on the menu that sounded good to me at all. Turns out that it is a fancy Italian restaurant that serves gourmet type Italian. Of course that comes with only a handful of selections on the menu and kinda expensive prices.

Our server comes by and explains a few of the items we were questioning. Of course 80% of the menu items are made with some type of alcohol and they cannot make it any other way he informs us. I know it is cooked, but I still don't want to take any chances. Plus, it just didn't sound good. Our server leaves to give us just a moment and we all go back to studying our menus. As I stare at my menu, I just start to bawl. I'm not talking shedding a few tears, I am talking uncontrollable crying and I couldn't stop. Everyone says lets get up and go, but I continue to protest because I didn't want to ruin dinner for everyone else. But, I couldn't quit crying. By then everyone in this small restaurant is trying not to stare at us and the lady playing the piano I think even started to play louder. But still, I couldn't quit crying. I think our server was then too scared to even come to our table. David finally yanks me up and pushes me out of the little restaurant, while his dad goes to tell the manager we're leaving. It was pretty embarrassing.

I could finally calm down once we got into the car. Everyone of course trying to make me feel better, telling me that they didn't want to eat there anyway. We ended up driving down the road and less than a mile later we pull into a little Italian place that was more of what we were looking for and had a great dinner. Still, it was kinda embarrassing. I don't know why I was crying over dinner or why I couldn't stop. I hate to know what those people were thinking. Luckily as my mother-in-law said, we'll never see these people again.

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