Flashback Friday: Worst Pregnancy Craving Ever

When I was pregnant with Emma I  developed this funny fetish for limes.  It was one of the only strong pregnancy cravings that I ever remember having through my five pregnancies, but it was so intense I daydreamed about limes for days before deciding that I just had to give in and make something limey. 

I could have been normal and made  a key lime pie or drank some limeade or something, but I was feeling ambitious that day and decided to be creative and make some lime jelly.  Man oh man, was I excited about the lime toast I was going to have when I was done! 

Somewhere I found a recipe for how to make some and excitedly I went right to work.  I fastidiously followed that recipe to a "T".  While I was simmering some whole limes in a small amount of water, I carefully measured the sugar and prepared the canning jars for what was sure to be the best jars of jelly ever! 

After simmering for some time,  I gave the limes a stir, as the recipe suggested.    Unfortunately for me, one stir was all it took for the pent-up pressure inside the limes to explode through the softened rinds and all over me.

What ensued next, was an apocalyptic kind of scene that I'm sure will be in one of Stephen King's novels someday.  Scalding hot lime innards were spewn  everywhere, including my face, neck, arms, and down my shirt.  I was screaming.  My kids were unhurt, but screaming because I was screaming.  And all I could do was claw at myself to get the evil citrus pulp off my blistering skin while I ran for a cold shower. 

Epilogue:  Despite the traumatic experience,  I still held to my visions of lustrous green jelly that tasted as sweet and perky as a lime popsicle.  It was with these visions and out of pure stubbornness, that eventually I finished making the lime jelly.    The jam ended up being an unappetizing shade of brownish-green and tasted so sour and horrible that it was truly inedible.   I threw the whole batch in the trash.   

  Thankfully the 2nd degree burn splatters healed without scarring and Spence and Cami have since forgotten the day their mother got attacked by evil limes.    Mostly I'm over the experience, but even 11 years later I still feel a short moment of glee and sweet revenge when I poke the tip of my knife into the skin of a lime while I cut it in half for my dinner preparations.   That'll show them not to mess with Lara the lime killer.  

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