The Tale of the Chili Dog

 In honor of my baby’s 10th birthday, I’m going to take us on a little trip down memory lane. The destination is not a sweet birthday tribute to my Ezra Ray (you can find that on today’s Instagram post), but rather, a revisit to one of the funniest cringe moments of my life. 

Let me set the scene: I had just delivered 10 lbs and 1 ounce of hunka hunka sugar lovins. I was over the moon in love with my brand new beautiful baby and since they starved me for 12 hours before my c-section I was, well, starving. Whoever thinks it’s a good idea to withhold food from a 9 month swollen pregnant momma is out of their mind. But, I digress. 

The surgery was over, I was rolled back into my recovery room, and I was ready to eat! I hadn’t eaten any lunch meat or hot dogs during my pregnancy to avoid any complications they can cause and ALL I wanted was a chili dog. I’d craved it for months and it was all I could think about. They had me separated from my new baby for a bit - the absolute worst part of a c-section by far. I laid there alone in my recovery room waiting for Darin to come back with my baby and then for the family to pile in. In that waiting period, Darin asked his parents to go grab me chili dog.

He brought in the chili dog and aside from the precious new human that was just plucked from my loins, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. Piping hot with mustard and onions - this must be what Heaven smells like. He raised my bed so I could sit up and eat and got everything all laid out for me. I shoved that hot dog in my mouth with my head bobbin’ and toes wiggling - I’d never tasted such a delightful meal. Everything was right in my world. I looked at Darin, “mmm-ing” and smiling from ear to ear. It was one of those comforting moments of relief and satisfaction. An “ahhhh” moment. 

I polished off my dog, fries and a large Diet Coke like it wasn’t no thing. Man, I felt so good. That c-section wasn’t so bad after all! I can’t feel a thing! I could do this every year! Life is good! 

I handed Darin my trash and he tossed it in the garbage. Seconds later the nurse walked in. “Oh! You’re sitting up already! How ya feeling?” she asked. “Any pain?“ 

“Nope! I’m feeling great, thanks!”

“Good”, she said. “Just stay in that position and I’ll come back in about 20 minutes and we’ll get you started on some ice chips. I know you’ve got to be hungry!” 

My giant smile fell into a look of sheer panic. My eyes, big as saucers, darted over to Darin as if to say “DO. NOT. SAY. A. WORD.” “Oh, ok! Thanks, um yeah, ice chips - yeah, um, that sounds great!”

“Yes, you’ll work your way up solid food, but we’ve got to be gradual or you’ll get sick. And we don’t want that!” 

“Oh ok! Heh heh! Well ice chips sure sounds good! Heh heh, yeah I sure am hungry! Heh heh. Thanks!” 

I avoided all eye contact with everyone. With her. With Darin. With the trash can that had the giant 12 inch long silver hot dog wrapper poking out, stained with chili and cheese. Please don’t smell my chili dog, lady. Please don’t look at the trash can. Do I have chili on my face? Mustard? What happens if she finds out I INHALED A CHILI DOG when I’m not even supposed to have ICE CHIPS at this point?!

I held my breath waiting for her to leave. As soon as that door closed I slowly looked over at Darin and we LOST IT. We laughed so hard my fresh incision started throbbing and I had to lay my bed back down. 

“I wonder why they don’t want me to eat?” I said. “I feel amazing!” 

….

Twenty minutes later, just about the time she came back with the ice chips - well - there were zero remnants of that chili dog left in my stomach. I thought my incision hurt when I laughed? Well trust me, that was NOTHING. I went from laughing to wrenching and I never wanted to lay eyes on a chili dog again. 

To this day I can’t see a chili dog and not think of that story. That poor nurse had to have been so confused. But all I knew is that I’d never been so thankful to see a bucket of ice chips in my life!