When I was pregnant with my third son I craved pasta like a mad woman. I would eat spinach ravioli, cheese ravioli, tricolor noodles with butter, and oh the Kraft macaroni and cheese. I stood in front of the stove only slightly apologetic as I called my older boys for dinner, only for them to see that I’d already polished off half the pot of macaroni, eating straight off the wooden spoon. I’ve paid for those days, that’s for sure, but they were worth it. I got a baby out of it!
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