On Beef Stew

Oh my gosh... Have I mentioned yet that the so-called morning sickness has already begun hitting me? Well if not, let me do so now: I'm officially nauseous. And I usually feel fine in the mornings, is the thing. But then it's all downhill throughout the day, and it's almost always triggered by scent. I'll be doing good, eat my breakfast with no problem, but then the smell of Jim's aftershave will cause me to recoil with a wrinkled nose. Even sweet little Addy's breath- even my own breath, as a matter of fact- will make me sniff the air like a hound dog, demanding, "What is that horrid, sour smell?" And the dog? Forget it. If he so much as opens his mouth in the same room as me, I run for cover.
But today has been the worst, to date. I was taking a nice long nap (while Addy slept for longer than usual thanks to her post-shot Tylenol,) and when I got up I headed first for the kitchen. And that's when it smacked me in the face, the pungent, oniony, mushroomy aroma of crock-pot beef stew, which had seemed like such a good idea two hours previously when I had put it in to cook. And now it seems to have permeated every square inch of the house and I want to run barfing into the streets.
So, note to self: no more slow cooking during the first trimester. The ease of dinner preparation is not enough of a trade off to make the gag-inducing stench of beefy mushroom condensed soup (oh, it made me sick even to type it!) worth it.