I drank some wine. Man, I had to. Don’t judge me. Peeps drink all the time when they’re pregnant. I’m not saying I condone it, considering all the damn warnings against it, but I know plenty of kids who came out okay after enduring a daily margarita habit in utero. Again, I am way too scared to believe that’s okay, even if I’ve seen proof, but I couldn’t help myself. It’s been too long, and it was too tempting. I think maybe it could have been a little bit of a triumph too--daring to do something wrong on purpose! Just let me explain.
Hubby’s aunt is straight up French. We’re talking “oh la la” multiple times an hour, making potatoes gratin to the letter, so many kisses on either cheek, and well, just so French, from France. Her sister lives nearby, and Aunt is visiting over her son’s spring vacation. So of course we went to visit them, and of course they had bottles and bottles and bottles of wine. Normally this isn’t a problem in my I’m-a-good-pregnant-lady-even-better-than-last-time state because it’s not worth it to me to feel sad about it. But they started going off about the wine from their village. They weren’t pressuring anyone to have some, but how can anyone say no to that? Their own little village in the Pyrenees! I caved about ten minutes into the drink service. But it’s not like I had a whole glass to myself, as I wish I could have, I just had a sip of each of the white and the red. Unfortunately, it only made me sad I couldn’t have more. Hot dang, it was so good. I hope Nugget liked it. And maybe got a little bit of a buzz because I sure miss that part of drinking wine too. 
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