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Well, look who's still in the kitchen:
Look, winter is fast approaching, and I'm starting to get cold. Sometimes I need to turn the heat on in the house or the car, but your Mother protests.
Why does she protest? Because her hormones have thrown her entire body's thermometer out of whack and at any given moment, especially the given moments when I'm freezing cold, she feels like she is on the surface of the sun.
Now, it's not just my word against hers as far as the temperature is concerned. At work, when everyone is freezing, your Mom is, again, burning up.
One could get pretty comfortable calling your Mom the "Human Torch," and attributing this newofound warmth to some sort of pregnancy super power.
But, as luck would have it, when it's actually warm, your Mom is freezing- which just goes to show you that this whole pregnancy hormone thing makes absolutely no sense at all. Her body is a glitching. If it were a PC, I would hit CTRL+ALT+Del and reboot the system.
But no such luck. Instead of that, I get to endure such fun things as:
+ Waking up in the middle of the night burning up because SOMEONE has pushed all of their covers on top of me, so I'm, in effect, sleeping under two sheets and two comforters.
+ Turn off the heat in the house or car when my fingers are blue.
+ Walk around with my nose running because it must be kept at the temperature of a meat locker in our home.
Now, it's not all bad, though. One cold morning, driving to a Doctor's Appointment, I was really cold. So I did my norm, and cranked the heat all the way to the end of the dial.
About 3 minutes later, your Mom exclaimed: "What are you trying to do? Smoke me out?" And she turned the heat back down to a compromise level of tepid warmth.
But my hands were still cold.
So, we used her super powered heat hands and my mere mortal susceptability to the elements to solve our mutual problems. By clasping hands, her warm mits heated my frozen fingers. In return my frigid digits cooled her hot hands.
The only problem was that no one was holding the steering wheel. So maybe that wasn't a good idea.
This trick also works for cold hands giving soothing hot foot rubs and hot hands warming a cold headachy noggin. This trick does no favors in cold hands touching the belly though. I have to wear mittens or rub my hands together to warm them up before I can do that!
As winter comes and Dallas gets colder and colder, though, I know your Mom is going to be a hot commodity, literally. We can keep warm together; and maybe I'll be able to roast a few marshmallows over her head.
So even though your Mom can't stand the heat, and I can't stand the cold, we're both staying in the proverbial kitchen because, well, to continue the cooking metaphor, we've got a bun in the oven!
