I've developed a bad habit. When the baby wakes up at night, I stumble to the livingroom and turn on the TV for light and watch the early morning news on CBS while he feeds. Since I usually only have an hour or two left of night, I typically just lay on the couch with him snuggled on my chest until DH wakes us up at 6.
My child is officially too big and restless to sleep with me anymore. This morning I woke from a very wierd and vivid dream to his whimpers. A disoriented me found him head first towards the floor with only his feet left on the sofa. He had not hit the floor but was wedged between the sofa and the bouncy chair slowly sliding towards wiping out on the carpet.
I immediately grab his feet with one hand and rescue him with the other. He never woke fully up but snuggled back into my chest and snoozed. I on the other hand stayed stock still and awake for the next half hour until I heard the alarm going off from the bedroom.
Catastophe averted but my lazy sofa surfing mornings are officially over. I knew it was coming but I'm definitely going to miss it. Since I feel like worst parent of the year after this mornings episode I'm not willing to try and stretch it out either. One time is one time too many even if no injuries were sustained and he never woke up enough to remember it!
My baby is growing up way too fast, getting so big and all my little infant joys are being stripped away one by one. ::cries::
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dreams. Show all posts
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Dear Matthew
Today is the last day I will write to you in utero. Tomorrow our dream comes true and we start the process of meeting you. I hope you come tomorrow and don't delay the process. I woke up this morning and had so many thoughts running through my head and I wrote to my friends with this message. It says everything I was feeling this morning.
"So I woke up this morning with the realization
that today is the last day as just a married couple. Everything we have worked towards for the past four years, that we started 7 years ago, is culminating now.
Tomorrow we become parents. We become a family of three (even though we already are). Tomorrow (or shortly thereafter as the process could take awhile) we have this much desired, long awaited squirmy little boy entirely dependent on the two of us. Tomorrow we wake up at 5am to head to the hospital to have a baby!
And I have to admit, as much as we have wanted this, and worked toward this, and are ready for this....I am scared out of my every loving effing mind.
It's kind of a wierd feeling, realization to know it all comes down to this...our last day, our last morning...as just the two of us. I'm excited, scared, overwhelmed, anxious and every other emotional adjective you can think of. I never thought I would feel ALL OF THIS."
Your daddy and I are so excited to meet you and start our life. We are overwhelmed and excited and scared. We love you so much and tomorrow is approaching so fast. I hope we are everything you need us to be and that we can give you the best life and everything you deserve.
Love,
Your Mama
"So I woke up this morning with the realization
that today is the last day as just a married couple. Everything we have worked towards for the past four years, that we started 7 years ago, is culminating now.
Tomorrow we become parents. We become a family of three (even though we already are). Tomorrow (or shortly thereafter as the process could take awhile) we have this much desired, long awaited squirmy little boy entirely dependent on the two of us. Tomorrow we wake up at 5am to head to the hospital to have a baby!
And I have to admit, as much as we have wanted this, and worked toward this, and are ready for this....I am scared out of my every loving effing mind.
It's kind of a wierd feeling, realization to know it all comes down to this...our last day, our last morning...as just the two of us. I'm excited, scared, overwhelmed, anxious and every other emotional adjective you can think of. I never thought I would feel ALL OF THIS."
Your daddy and I are so excited to meet you and start our life. We are overwhelmed and excited and scared. We love you so much and tomorrow is approaching so fast. I hope we are everything you need us to be and that we can give you the best life and everything you deserve.
Love,
Your Mama
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Simple Conversations that shouldn't be taken for granted
While reading "babyproofing your marriage," I ran across an interesting statistic: 21% of couples do not agree on the number of children to have. 47% only think they agree (I may have that one slightly off as I'm doing this from memory). The woman usually gets the swing vote much to the dissatisfaction of the man. Couples actually bargain over having another kid trading things like weekly sex and chores. (Really? W.T.F. It's a child not a stock certificate!)
I know I've changed my mind several times over the years about how many munchkins I wanted and we have spent so much time and effort to get THIS ONE that we haven't really talked about overall family goals. We've talked abotu having another in two years and DH has only half joked about getting me knocked up immediately but nothing really past that.
So as we lay in bed reading, I casually turn to him and ask "so how many kids do you want?" Having been with the man for 6 years i was expecting a definitive TWO. he managed to surprise me with "as many as we can have." Okay. Taking into age and fertility? "2 or 3 is probably what we'll be able to do."
Just for shits and giggles, what if age weren't a factor? "As many as we could have which would still probably only be 2 or 3 because of affordability but if we could, I'd have more." (when did we become quiverfulls?)
Perfect answer though. I want two with an option of a third (assuming single births). I can't imagine having more so I think its safe to say my husband and I are in the statistical category of being in agreement. God how I love that man.
The fact that we can even have this conversation so casually feeling secure in our success of it is a wonder and blessing in itself. A year ago, I couldn'nt imagine planning our future children out with so much assurance but I'm finally feeling the peace and security of knowing I'm a mom and can plan to be a mom in the future.
I finally feel secure that I can give my husband his dreams (okay, not the duggar household, he can forget that!) without doubt.
After so many years of fear, this casual conversation with my soulmate can not pass without recognition. I can not take for granted the amazing gift I've been given to experience such peace and normalcy in a simple thing. A moment of discussing our future children with an assurance and peace of dreams that will happen.
I hope everyone has that moment and recognizeds it. Holds it in their hearts.
I know I've changed my mind several times over the years about how many munchkins I wanted and we have spent so much time and effort to get THIS ONE that we haven't really talked about overall family goals. We've talked abotu having another in two years and DH has only half joked about getting me knocked up immediately but nothing really past that.
So as we lay in bed reading, I casually turn to him and ask "so how many kids do you want?" Having been with the man for 6 years i was expecting a definitive TWO. he managed to surprise me with "as many as we can have." Okay. Taking into age and fertility? "2 or 3 is probably what we'll be able to do."
Just for shits and giggles, what if age weren't a factor? "As many as we could have which would still probably only be 2 or 3 because of affordability but if we could, I'd have more." (when did we become quiverfulls?)
Perfect answer though. I want two with an option of a third (assuming single births). I can't imagine having more so I think its safe to say my husband and I are in the statistical category of being in agreement. God how I love that man.
The fact that we can even have this conversation so casually feeling secure in our success of it is a wonder and blessing in itself. A year ago, I couldn'nt imagine planning our future children out with so much assurance but I'm finally feeling the peace and security of knowing I'm a mom and can plan to be a mom in the future.
I finally feel secure that I can give my husband his dreams (okay, not the duggar household, he can forget that!) without doubt.
After so many years of fear, this casual conversation with my soulmate can not pass without recognition. I can not take for granted the amazing gift I've been given to experience such peace and normalcy in a simple thing. A moment of discussing our future children with an assurance and peace of dreams that will happen.
I hope everyone has that moment and recognizeds it. Holds it in their hearts.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Saint Renee BabyFoot Necklace Giveaway
2010 was a very hard year in many ways. 2009 was harder. I entered 2010 a very bitter person in an emotionally hard place and then experienced some very scary physical issues as well. If you are new here and just dropping by, welcome. A little about me: I have been TTC with PCOS for almost 4 years (February will be 4 years). In 2009 we succeeded with the help of Clomid and Metformin and Charting with a dash of Preconceive thrown in only to lose our babe at the end of the First Tri. I am an IF warrior and Miscarriage Survivor.
Early this year, in one of my darkest moments, I was visited by a Saint. Okay, she's really my cousin (and when we were teenagers I would be hard pressed to say she was anywhere close to a Saint *wink*). My sweet cousin knows exactly what I've been through having survived all of the above herself. She has since adopted two beautiful boys and is currently fostering another little boy and a girl. Bless her sweet soul she has FOUR under FOUR in her house. A Saint I tell you.
She brought me a necklace that she makes for those who are struggling with Infertility and/or Loss. A simple necklace made from Oyster Shells and Baby Foot shells(thin delicate shells with a baby's foot imprint in the center) that she finds on long walks on the NC Coast with her sons. She assembles them and delivers them to those in need to wear for hope and promise and remembrance. The gift touched me greatly and I have treasured this necklace this year, keeping it around my neck and remembering her words, her hugs and her courage.
She has been kind enough to make one for you. To share with others a gift that has helped so many close by. I think now is the perfect time to do this giveaway. At the end of the year, when it can be hard to face another year struggling with IF and Loss but holding out that hope for something better to come your way. I was there last year and this year I have the joy of looking forward to meeting my son and spending the rest of the year with him. I hope the new year brings good things to all of you.
So let's keep this simple. Just leave me a comment for an entry. If you would like an extra entry feel free to follow thgardengourmet (notice it is just th not the)on twitter and leave a comment with your twitter name. I will use a random picker to pick the winner and announce it with a request for your email both here and on twitter this coming weekend. I hope you (or someone you know that you give it to) will find great promise, strength and hope in this necklace. (Your choice of the grey or the black). If you do not win, but would like to order one, please let me know and I will be happy to put you in contact with "Saint' Renee.
I am wishing you and yours a New Year full of Hope and Promise and may all your dreams be realized in 2011.
All my Love,
Krista
Early this year, in one of my darkest moments, I was visited by a Saint. Okay, she's really my cousin (and when we were teenagers I would be hard pressed to say she was anywhere close to a Saint *wink*). My sweet cousin knows exactly what I've been through having survived all of the above herself. She has since adopted two beautiful boys and is currently fostering another little boy and a girl. Bless her sweet soul she has FOUR under FOUR in her house. A Saint I tell you.
She brought me a necklace that she makes for those who are struggling with Infertility and/or Loss. A simple necklace made from Oyster Shells and Baby Foot shells(thin delicate shells with a baby's foot imprint in the center) that she finds on long walks on the NC Coast with her sons. She assembles them and delivers them to those in need to wear for hope and promise and remembrance. The gift touched me greatly and I have treasured this necklace this year, keeping it around my neck and remembering her words, her hugs and her courage.
She has been kind enough to make one for you. To share with others a gift that has helped so many close by. I think now is the perfect time to do this giveaway. At the end of the year, when it can be hard to face another year struggling with IF and Loss but holding out that hope for something better to come your way. I was there last year and this year I have the joy of looking forward to meeting my son and spending the rest of the year with him. I hope the new year brings good things to all of you.
So let's keep this simple. Just leave me a comment for an entry. If you would like an extra entry feel free to follow thgardengourmet (notice it is just th not the)on twitter and leave a comment with your twitter name. I will use a random picker to pick the winner and announce it with a request for your email both here and on twitter this coming weekend. I hope you (or someone you know that you give it to) will find great promise, strength and hope in this necklace. (Your choice of the grey or the black). If you do not win, but would like to order one, please let me know and I will be happy to put you in contact with "Saint' Renee.
I am wishing you and yours a New Year full of Hope and Promise and may all your dreams be realized in 2011.
All my Love,
Krista
Thursday, December 2, 2010
On BROADWAYYYY!!!!!!!!
Do you ever wonder where your life might have been headed had you or something not changed your course?
At one time, I entertained the idea of Broadway. Glitzy lights, the city, straining my voice in Italian Opera and walking the streets of New York to look at glamorous clothes my gypsy struggling artists life would never afford me. Yet that half seedy, half glamorous life in alley way walk ups no bigger than my master closet appealed to me. For a short time, I got the tiniest taste of that life living in a roach infested studio apartment above a corner deli at college across from the theater department. I volunteered as an usher so I could see shows like “Stomp” for free and hang out with my friends in the theater department. At the time I was leaning towards another artistic venue: interior design, but the pot smoking, Chicago worshipping hippies that the professors preferred weren’t my gig either.
I eventually made it into the textile industry (which at the time was huge in this area) and transferred my love of backstage to organizing fashion shows in the underground areas of Atlanta, GA garment district and being behind the scenes of industry expo’s as booth designer intern. I LOVED every second of working 15 hour days and collapsing on feet that could barely support me.
When I finally graduated and looked for work, the doors were closing. Literally. Companies were folding up shop, abandoning historical buildings and factory towns and moving their products to Mexico and China for a larger profit margin. With my bright shiny new Bachelor’s degree I couldn’t compete with the displaced workers with years of experience and often a Master’s degree to boot who were flooding the market place.
I resorted to a nice cushy job in the family business putting my practical marketing experience and knowledge to good use for them. It was a dream job even if it wasn’t glamorous and often involved trudging to its own seedy part of town at 5am in my pajamas with my dog (as protection) in tow to open the doors for a questionable lot of grease soaked drop outs who could turn a wrench and weld two strips of metal together. The fact was, I COULD roll in in my pajamas and after the first pot of coffee kicked in change in my office while watching the morning news with my dog curled up on the loveseat. It was a huge damn office and I had the run of it.
I took advantage of my family’s willingness for me to explore other opportunities as their retirement loomed in a further spiraling economy and went to Real Estate School. I had no delusions that the family business would stay open as my father, the engineer, was the only one qualified to run it. All the designs and contacts were his and though we tried to find competent foremen, we never had any luck with someone who could design sawmills in their head like he could. I did well in Real Estate school. When it was time to move on for everyone, I even sold Dad’s 25,000 square foot building for them. When the market crashed, I rebounded and found work back in the Corporate Industrial world based on my experience with the family business. It may not be my dream job but I have been very fortunate in keeping jobs and moving on when necessary. Sometimes its slim times, and I’ve seen my share of lay off troubles but I’m a stable worker and good at multi-tasking. I can always find a bright future in the job I’m in even if I’m bored to death.
I still occasionally dream about those bright lights though, like when I’m belting out an aria or singing Phantom of the Opera at the top of my lungs in the car. I still wonder what my life would have been like had I taken different turns. Had I not wasted 2 years on that one slime bucket and waste of human flesh that I had once imagined marrying.
Through it all though, no matter what I dream, it all leads me back to here. Everything leads me back to this man, who was busy with his own choices being a Marine, finding his way while I found mine. At the right time, the perfect time, we found each other and we have made a magnificent life. My dreams may not be the big bright lights or even the Fashion Show diva anymore, but they are real and tame and in them, my husband is always at my side supporting me. We achieved one dream that we both shared, and that’s being a family and creating life.
What can be bigger, more challenging or come with more anticipation than a future full of our son? All the decisions we make now, revolve around providing a life for him. We are dreaming of Boy scout campfires, custom built swing sets, and lullabies sung by night lights. My big debut will be in a hospital where we(my leading man and I) meet our understudy not on a stage in front of thousands of people. Our success will not be measured by how big our name is on a marquee sign but by how happy and healthy a little boy is.
I had dreams, but none as great as this. Dreams change, morph, become realized and become bigger than you could ever imagined them to be. Stop and take a moment to look back on your past dreams and where they have yet to take you. If a dream hasn’t been realized, don’t give up, just keep dreaming. What are your dreams? Where did you expect to be?
At one time, I entertained the idea of Broadway. Glitzy lights, the city, straining my voice in Italian Opera and walking the streets of New York to look at glamorous clothes my gypsy struggling artists life would never afford me. Yet that half seedy, half glamorous life in alley way walk ups no bigger than my master closet appealed to me. For a short time, I got the tiniest taste of that life living in a roach infested studio apartment above a corner deli at college across from the theater department. I volunteered as an usher so I could see shows like “Stomp” for free and hang out with my friends in the theater department. At the time I was leaning towards another artistic venue: interior design, but the pot smoking, Chicago worshipping hippies that the professors preferred weren’t my gig either.
I eventually made it into the textile industry (which at the time was huge in this area) and transferred my love of backstage to organizing fashion shows in the underground areas of Atlanta, GA garment district and being behind the scenes of industry expo’s as booth designer intern. I LOVED every second of working 15 hour days and collapsing on feet that could barely support me.
When I finally graduated and looked for work, the doors were closing. Literally. Companies were folding up shop, abandoning historical buildings and factory towns and moving their products to Mexico and China for a larger profit margin. With my bright shiny new Bachelor’s degree I couldn’t compete with the displaced workers with years of experience and often a Master’s degree to boot who were flooding the market place.
I resorted to a nice cushy job in the family business putting my practical marketing experience and knowledge to good use for them. It was a dream job even if it wasn’t glamorous and often involved trudging to its own seedy part of town at 5am in my pajamas with my dog (as protection) in tow to open the doors for a questionable lot of grease soaked drop outs who could turn a wrench and weld two strips of metal together. The fact was, I COULD roll in in my pajamas and after the first pot of coffee kicked in change in my office while watching the morning news with my dog curled up on the loveseat. It was a huge damn office and I had the run of it.
I took advantage of my family’s willingness for me to explore other opportunities as their retirement loomed in a further spiraling economy and went to Real Estate School. I had no delusions that the family business would stay open as my father, the engineer, was the only one qualified to run it. All the designs and contacts were his and though we tried to find competent foremen, we never had any luck with someone who could design sawmills in their head like he could. I did well in Real Estate school. When it was time to move on for everyone, I even sold Dad’s 25,000 square foot building for them. When the market crashed, I rebounded and found work back in the Corporate Industrial world based on my experience with the family business. It may not be my dream job but I have been very fortunate in keeping jobs and moving on when necessary. Sometimes its slim times, and I’ve seen my share of lay off troubles but I’m a stable worker and good at multi-tasking. I can always find a bright future in the job I’m in even if I’m bored to death.
I still occasionally dream about those bright lights though, like when I’m belting out an aria or singing Phantom of the Opera at the top of my lungs in the car. I still wonder what my life would have been like had I taken different turns. Had I not wasted 2 years on that one slime bucket and waste of human flesh that I had once imagined marrying.
Through it all though, no matter what I dream, it all leads me back to here. Everything leads me back to this man, who was busy with his own choices being a Marine, finding his way while I found mine. At the right time, the perfect time, we found each other and we have made a magnificent life. My dreams may not be the big bright lights or even the Fashion Show diva anymore, but they are real and tame and in them, my husband is always at my side supporting me. We achieved one dream that we both shared, and that’s being a family and creating life.
What can be bigger, more challenging or come with more anticipation than a future full of our son? All the decisions we make now, revolve around providing a life for him. We are dreaming of Boy scout campfires, custom built swing sets, and lullabies sung by night lights. My big debut will be in a hospital where we(my leading man and I) meet our understudy not on a stage in front of thousands of people. Our success will not be measured by how big our name is on a marquee sign but by how happy and healthy a little boy is.
I had dreams, but none as great as this. Dreams change, morph, become realized and become bigger than you could ever imagined them to be. Stop and take a moment to look back on your past dreams and where they have yet to take you. If a dream hasn’t been realized, don’t give up, just keep dreaming. What are your dreams? Where did you expect to be?
Monday, November 29, 2010
I'm Dreaming of McFatty Mondays
I actually miss dieting. (I can’t believe I actually said those words aloud and put them in writing.) I miss the conscious effort of food to exercise ratio to results on a scale. Pregnancy counteracts that equation in every way. I eat well, watch my portions, do some exercise and the scale goes up. It’s a mind-fuck after years of it working the other way.
It is very difficult to find a balance between eating well for pregnancy and dieting in order to NOT gain weight by doctor’s orders. I don’t seem to be able to grasp the concept. So I’m focusing on all the ways I’m going to LOSE the weight after HLB is born.
For years, I had trouble losing weight for myself. I walked the line of trying and wanting to be that healthy version of me and then I started getting the hang of it and eating to suit my body with the new information I have. Now, it’s a whole different story.
I want to be everything I can be, as healthy as I can be for my son. I want to be an active pretty mom that sets a good example and has the energy to go to all his events and play in the yard even after a full day of work and housework. I’m already going to be an “old” mom (which hopefully in today’s society isn’t as noticeable) but I don’t want to be an ugly fat one on top of that.
I have new directions, new goals, new inspiration to be the absolute best and live a very full life so that my SON has the best childhood and experiences that I can give him and that includes being able to keep up with him and play in the yard, go hiking, go riding, and not pass out on the sofa as soon as I hit the door. Some people let themselves go as a mother blaming lack of time on the children.
I can’t imagine, because I want to take care of myself MORE now FOR my child.
It is very difficult to find a balance between eating well for pregnancy and dieting in order to NOT gain weight by doctor’s orders. I don’t seem to be able to grasp the concept. So I’m focusing on all the ways I’m going to LOSE the weight after HLB is born.
For years, I had trouble losing weight for myself. I walked the line of trying and wanting to be that healthy version of me and then I started getting the hang of it and eating to suit my body with the new information I have. Now, it’s a whole different story.
I want to be everything I can be, as healthy as I can be for my son. I want to be an active pretty mom that sets a good example and has the energy to go to all his events and play in the yard even after a full day of work and housework. I’m already going to be an “old” mom (which hopefully in today’s society isn’t as noticeable) but I don’t want to be an ugly fat one on top of that.
I have new directions, new goals, new inspiration to be the absolute best and live a very full life so that my SON has the best childhood and experiences that I can give him and that includes being able to keep up with him and play in the yard, go hiking, go riding, and not pass out on the sofa as soon as I hit the door. Some people let themselves go as a mother blaming lack of time on the children.
I can’t imagine, because I want to take care of myself MORE now FOR my child.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Letter to My Son
Dear Baby Boy,
We haven’t decided on your name yet. It’s a big decision because you have to live with it the rest of your life. We don’t want to make a mistake and have you hate us for it later. We have picked it out along with a few backups but have not made the official decision yet. If only I could ask you what you wanted to be called…or could see your precious face and know what name would suit you best.
You have no idea what is in store for you though. You have an amazing life ahead of you. Your father and I both have big ideas of things for you to do, activities you may enjoy, and the endless possibilities of what you will turn out to be. None of them matter. Only your happiness matters. We will support you in whatever way you need, whatever you decide to do and whoever you turn out to be.
Until I meet you though, I am dreaming of all the possibilities. I’m imagining the activities that you will enjoy, the things you are going to do as you grow and the pure joy you are going to experience. You will have opportunities to ride horses through the mountain trails with your cousins, have cannonball competitions in the pool with your friends on a hot southern summer day, learn how to garden with your mommy and experience the most amazing flavors like fresh tomatoes off the vine, build birdhouses for boy scouts with your Dad, ride a hay wagon behind your grandpa on his tractor, eat fresh crisp watermelon on your Grandma’s front porch, splash through the waves with your cousins that live on the coast, and frolic in the yard with two doggies that are waiting in unbridled anticipation to be your best friends.
There are so many things you will learn, and unending possibilities of what you can be. You can be a doctor, a lawyer, a true cowboy, a grocery store bag boy or the President of the United States. You can join the military and fight for our freedom like your father and his father before him and/or you can go to college like your parents and grandparents before us. You can start a high school rock band, and make platinum albums or play in the garages. You can fly to the moon or mars or another galaxy all together.
As my favorite author once stated “The knowledge that someone believes in one keeps one trying to make good.” ~ Emilie Loring. Your father and I will always believe in you and help you to make good in your life. To live as happily as possible and weather the storms when they come.
I promise you that no one will ever love you more or believe in you as we already do. Our love can only grow as you do, as we guide you on your journey to becoming a great man that I already feel you are. You will be the best of both of us and a true reflection of how much we love each other. We put everything into having you and we will continue to put everything into making your life an amazing adventure of love and hope and endless possibilities.
My precious little boy, I love you beyond words, beyond time and beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I carry you with me now and soon will hold you in my arms and gaze upon your perfect face.
Always,
Mom
We haven’t decided on your name yet. It’s a big decision because you have to live with it the rest of your life. We don’t want to make a mistake and have you hate us for it later. We have picked it out along with a few backups but have not made the official decision yet. If only I could ask you what you wanted to be called…or could see your precious face and know what name would suit you best.
You have no idea what is in store for you though. You have an amazing life ahead of you. Your father and I both have big ideas of things for you to do, activities you may enjoy, and the endless possibilities of what you will turn out to be. None of them matter. Only your happiness matters. We will support you in whatever way you need, whatever you decide to do and whoever you turn out to be.
Until I meet you though, I am dreaming of all the possibilities. I’m imagining the activities that you will enjoy, the things you are going to do as you grow and the pure joy you are going to experience. You will have opportunities to ride horses through the mountain trails with your cousins, have cannonball competitions in the pool with your friends on a hot southern summer day, learn how to garden with your mommy and experience the most amazing flavors like fresh tomatoes off the vine, build birdhouses for boy scouts with your Dad, ride a hay wagon behind your grandpa on his tractor, eat fresh crisp watermelon on your Grandma’s front porch, splash through the waves with your cousins that live on the coast, and frolic in the yard with two doggies that are waiting in unbridled anticipation to be your best friends.
There are so many things you will learn, and unending possibilities of what you can be. You can be a doctor, a lawyer, a true cowboy, a grocery store bag boy or the President of the United States. You can join the military and fight for our freedom like your father and his father before him and/or you can go to college like your parents and grandparents before us. You can start a high school rock band, and make platinum albums or play in the garages. You can fly to the moon or mars or another galaxy all together.
As my favorite author once stated “The knowledge that someone believes in one keeps one trying to make good.” ~ Emilie Loring. Your father and I will always believe in you and help you to make good in your life. To live as happily as possible and weather the storms when they come.
I promise you that no one will ever love you more or believe in you as we already do. Our love can only grow as you do, as we guide you on your journey to becoming a great man that I already feel you are. You will be the best of both of us and a true reflection of how much we love each other. We put everything into having you and we will continue to put everything into making your life an amazing adventure of love and hope and endless possibilities.
My precious little boy, I love you beyond words, beyond time and beyond anything I’ve ever imagined. I carry you with me now and soon will hold you in my arms and gaze upon your perfect face.
Always,
Mom
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
The Power of Hormones and Dreams
Why is it that, as women, whatever happens in our dreams we carry over to real life, particularly if it’s bad? Dreams, especially when pregnant, can be so vividly real that it is hard to distinguish between the dream world and real life even upon waking. When you get that vivid dream early in the morning, right before the alarm goes off, and are startled into wakefulness, there is a distinct disorientation that takes place.
In my house, when this happens, my husband usually gets the blunt end of the stick figuratively speaking. No matter what happens, he is always the reason for my wrath or pain in my dreams, and my victim during those first waking moments. He takes the blame with humor and grace though. I give him that.
This morning’s dream? He came home late at night with a friend from school (in an old beater car) and reeked of marijuana. I was FURIOUS. My home is a drug free zone. We are drug free people. The one area I have always been a goody two shoes is drugs. I have honestly never touched the stuff, not even a second hand whiff. I have no desire to. My husband’s past, before me, a little sketchy in that area, but as I said, that was BEFORE I ever came into the picture.
I have three rules: No cheating, No lying, and No drugs. Those are end all breaking points in my book and I’ve never worried about any of them with him. Not once in 6 years have I even come close to thinking he would break my trust or those rules. These are sacred trusts to me. I’ve been burned by all three in past relationships. Putting your life unknowingly in the hands of a driver who unbeknownst to you is high as a kite on cocaine is not an experience I ever want to repeat.
So in my grogginess this morning, while my husband was cuddled up to me, rubbing my stomach trying to wake me up, I was pretty irrational at first. Fortunately, I was too tired to do more than mumble at him that he was smoking pot and I was furious.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done this (pregnant or not) and won’t be the last. No matter how many times it happens though, he always asks the question of WHY he gets blamed for everything that happens in MY dreams. LOL
That’s completely not true darling. I NEVER blame you when I’m having a good ROMP with Dwayne THE ROCK Johnson or Jensen Ackles.
In my house, when this happens, my husband usually gets the blunt end of the stick figuratively speaking. No matter what happens, he is always the reason for my wrath or pain in my dreams, and my victim during those first waking moments. He takes the blame with humor and grace though. I give him that.
This morning’s dream? He came home late at night with a friend from school (in an old beater car) and reeked of marijuana. I was FURIOUS. My home is a drug free zone. We are drug free people. The one area I have always been a goody two shoes is drugs. I have honestly never touched the stuff, not even a second hand whiff. I have no desire to. My husband’s past, before me, a little sketchy in that area, but as I said, that was BEFORE I ever came into the picture.
I have three rules: No cheating, No lying, and No drugs. Those are end all breaking points in my book and I’ve never worried about any of them with him. Not once in 6 years have I even come close to thinking he would break my trust or those rules. These are sacred trusts to me. I’ve been burned by all three in past relationships. Putting your life unknowingly in the hands of a driver who unbeknownst to you is high as a kite on cocaine is not an experience I ever want to repeat.
So in my grogginess this morning, while my husband was cuddled up to me, rubbing my stomach trying to wake me up, I was pretty irrational at first. Fortunately, I was too tired to do more than mumble at him that he was smoking pot and I was furious.
This isn’t the first time I’ve done this (pregnant or not) and won’t be the last. No matter how many times it happens though, he always asks the question of WHY he gets blamed for everything that happens in MY dreams. LOL
That’s completely not true darling. I NEVER blame you when I’m having a good ROMP with Dwayne THE ROCK Johnson or Jensen Ackles.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Overachieving Perfectionism
In the McFatty Monday post yesterday, Blair talked about being an overachiever and workaholic. Those words have been going around in my mind repeatedly for the past 24 hours. I do not consider myself a workaholic. There are days when I do nothing but lay on the sofa when I feel run down. The guilt that comes from those days is overwhelming though. I’m definitely an overachiever. I want a lot and over commit myself. I go bigger and better and basically beyond my physical means (and sometimes financial).
It’s in my genes. My father does everything on a grand scale and I am so used to his work ethic (the man is like the energizer bunny even at 60, he NEVER stops working) and his schemes and capabilities I forget that I don’t have the means to do so and my husband is a LOT more laid back than him and refuses to keep up with my demands. (See, not every girl marries the image of her Daddy!) I am my father’s daughter so I needed a calmer person to balance me out though sometimes his affect on me tips the scales which causes that ever present guilt. It’s a vicious cycle.
Example: Gardening. Most people are happy with a small garden: 2-3 tomato plants, 2-3 squash and zucchini plants on a 5 x 5 patch of ground (or a little bigger). Me? No, I have my Daddy bring in one of his monster tractor’s to till up a ¾ acre pasture for me so I can garden on a grand scale in addition to my nice neat 728 square foot box garden. I conveniently did not consider how I would manage this gigantic garden without a cultivator tractor or even a large tiller. That’s where I overstretch my financial capabilities. We just can not afford the equipment to manage my grand scale farming ideas! I grew up with farmers, I’m USED to the big huge gardens. I don’t know why I do this to myself. My “little” garden is fabulous. Everyone loves it, even the hardcore traditionalist farmers. My parents plant about 10 acres on their farm and always have more than enough to share with me to allow me to can for the winter. Their neighbors who are large scale commercial farmers share their abundance with us as well. So why do I stress myself out to mimic my roots? To do what my parents do which is what I think I have to do to carry on tradition when I have just changed it slightly to suit our life? Why is it not good enough for me to keep doing what works? Is it a keeping up with the Jones’ complex? I never thought I had an issue with that and none of my neighbors do anything close to what I do but maybe I’m keeping up with my idea of the Jones’s.
I think it is partially detachment anxiety and partially filling a void. My parents live an hour away with my sister and her boys next door. My in-laws live 4 hours away with both their other children and all their grandchildren down the road. But here, it’s just me and my husband stumbling along as home/small farm owners and no children. I feel isolated and alone and I have such a great desire to have a family and raise my children with all the benefits and advantages that I had plus some. I hear stories of dinners together and what the nephews are doing and I realize that both our families know and participate in each other’s lives but we are alone. I look out at my quiet piece of land and see this beautiful little garden and a bright shiny swimming pool just sitting there waiting to be loved. And I feel that I’m not good enough to love it all and care for it all alone.
My perfectionist side of me that has a mental breakdown over weeds in the garden can not wrap its mind around what to do without this dream of a family. So I keep forcing myself into bigger projects, more hobbies, more THINGS TO DO. I stress myself out trying to make my home PERFECT and everything I do Excellent and admirable because I feel like a failure and feel alone.
I don’t think that my garden adventures, landscaping failures and general lack of time and overachieving endeavors are a direct result of my lack of children but I do think I tend to go overboard with it. If I had children or never wanted them, would I still garden and stress about the amount of work that needs to be done to the house in the short time and limited budget? Absolutely. My parents were amazing people who somehow ran a farm, took care of a family, ran a business, gardened, kept the house up and a barrage of other home projects. They both had their contractors licenses, my dad is an engineer, my mom is a finance expert. I was raised to think I could conquer the world in a day and nothing would elude me if I just kept trying and working toward it.
At what cost to sanity though? When do I say enough is enough? I finally said enough is enough on the big garden after a heat wave blistered my precious tomatoes, squash and beans but left the weeds thriving (I have weeds out there taller than me!). We are mowing the whole thing down and returning it to a pasture and focusing on my pretty “little” garden. Where do I draw the line on fertility? Or diet? Or other aspects of my life?
I’m a 32 year old infertile with a dream and too much to do. What do I do? I sew, cook, bake, garden, keep house, work full time, swim, mend fences, do yard work, and tend my little zoo of animals. What do you do when you become overworked, overzealous, or lost in the madness of seemingly unattainable dreams?
It’s in my genes. My father does everything on a grand scale and I am so used to his work ethic (the man is like the energizer bunny even at 60, he NEVER stops working) and his schemes and capabilities I forget that I don’t have the means to do so and my husband is a LOT more laid back than him and refuses to keep up with my demands. (See, not every girl marries the image of her Daddy!) I am my father’s daughter so I needed a calmer person to balance me out though sometimes his affect on me tips the scales which causes that ever present guilt. It’s a vicious cycle.
Example: Gardening. Most people are happy with a small garden: 2-3 tomato plants, 2-3 squash and zucchini plants on a 5 x 5 patch of ground (or a little bigger). Me? No, I have my Daddy bring in one of his monster tractor’s to till up a ¾ acre pasture for me so I can garden on a grand scale in addition to my nice neat 728 square foot box garden. I conveniently did not consider how I would manage this gigantic garden without a cultivator tractor or even a large tiller. That’s where I overstretch my financial capabilities. We just can not afford the equipment to manage my grand scale farming ideas! I grew up with farmers, I’m USED to the big huge gardens. I don’t know why I do this to myself. My “little” garden is fabulous. Everyone loves it, even the hardcore traditionalist farmers. My parents plant about 10 acres on their farm and always have more than enough to share with me to allow me to can for the winter. Their neighbors who are large scale commercial farmers share their abundance with us as well. So why do I stress myself out to mimic my roots? To do what my parents do which is what I think I have to do to carry on tradition when I have just changed it slightly to suit our life? Why is it not good enough for me to keep doing what works? Is it a keeping up with the Jones’ complex? I never thought I had an issue with that and none of my neighbors do anything close to what I do but maybe I’m keeping up with my idea of the Jones’s.
I think it is partially detachment anxiety and partially filling a void. My parents live an hour away with my sister and her boys next door. My in-laws live 4 hours away with both their other children and all their grandchildren down the road. But here, it’s just me and my husband stumbling along as home/small farm owners and no children. I feel isolated and alone and I have such a great desire to have a family and raise my children with all the benefits and advantages that I had plus some. I hear stories of dinners together and what the nephews are doing and I realize that both our families know and participate in each other’s lives but we are alone. I look out at my quiet piece of land and see this beautiful little garden and a bright shiny swimming pool just sitting there waiting to be loved. And I feel that I’m not good enough to love it all and care for it all alone.
My perfectionist side of me that has a mental breakdown over weeds in the garden can not wrap its mind around what to do without this dream of a family. So I keep forcing myself into bigger projects, more hobbies, more THINGS TO DO. I stress myself out trying to make my home PERFECT and everything I do Excellent and admirable because I feel like a failure and feel alone.
I don’t think that my garden adventures, landscaping failures and general lack of time and overachieving endeavors are a direct result of my lack of children but I do think I tend to go overboard with it. If I had children or never wanted them, would I still garden and stress about the amount of work that needs to be done to the house in the short time and limited budget? Absolutely. My parents were amazing people who somehow ran a farm, took care of a family, ran a business, gardened, kept the house up and a barrage of other home projects. They both had their contractors licenses, my dad is an engineer, my mom is a finance expert. I was raised to think I could conquer the world in a day and nothing would elude me if I just kept trying and working toward it.
At what cost to sanity though? When do I say enough is enough? I finally said enough is enough on the big garden after a heat wave blistered my precious tomatoes, squash and beans but left the weeds thriving (I have weeds out there taller than me!). We are mowing the whole thing down and returning it to a pasture and focusing on my pretty “little” garden. Where do I draw the line on fertility? Or diet? Or other aspects of my life?
I’m a 32 year old infertile with a dream and too much to do. What do I do? I sew, cook, bake, garden, keep house, work full time, swim, mend fences, do yard work, and tend my little zoo of animals. What do you do when you become overworked, overzealous, or lost in the madness of seemingly unattainable dreams?
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Inspiration from Buck
Sometimes you just have to make yourself have a good day. When things get you down, like unfair discrimination at work that you can only push so far before you lose your job and they know it and they know you can’t afford an attorney, and your back hurts and your chart is fugly and your garden is overwhelming you and you are prone to dramatic run on sentences? Yea, it demands you have a good day tomorrow. So after an excruciatingly long day at work that made me IRATE and want to punch someone, I went home and attacked the weeds in my garden till I could barely stand up straight because my back hurt so bad. We ordered dinner in so I wouldn’t have to cook and they screwed my order up so I couldn’t eat it. So I ended up having to make myself dinner anyway at 9pm. I was in tears because I was soooo frustrated.
So I took a shower, gave myself a mani/pedi and painted all my digits electric turquoise (very 90’s and very unprofessional). I did a home wax and shaped my eyebrows and cleaned up the lip and chin area (darn PCOS hair growth in unattractive places). This morning, I hot rolled my hair and put on heels and a dress. My boobs look damn good in this dress. I usually wear tennis shoes, jeans and cute shirts with my hair pulled back because I work in an automotive shop and the floors can get slick from the grease, armorall etc. They detail the vehicles in the bay that is between the women’s restroom and my little office (that we call the doghouse) so respectable shoes are a must along with the required safety glasses. Screw it. I’m in slick high heels that are barely held on my feet by two rhinestone encrusted straps. I have on a long black and white maxi dress with a little white crochet shrug and my hair is in big tussled curls half way down my back. There are tongues rolling around on the floor everywhere. Ahh the power of boobs and a body that has lost 46 pounds and has a waste and hips. I feel empowered! You want to discriminate against me because I’m a woman? Fine. I’ll use my womanhood and all the power contained there in. ::screams out:: HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW!?
Anyway, so I’m having a good day by sheer force of will. I have a very Sookie Stackhouse smile plastered on my face and I’m strutting it because I can. Sometimes you have to hold your head up and dare the world to push you down. IF is like that. Every month of disappointment comes and goes and you grieve and get disappointed and want to give up, but one day into AF you stand up straight and say, NOT THIS TIME. I shall not go peacefully into the night...and you dust yourself off and look for the next course of action. I’m not ready to give up yet. I have a few good years left to fight and I’m not going to be put out to pasture yet like an old horse.
I know a thing or two about old horses. My favorite horse in the whole world whom I loved beyond what is reasonable died in June 2006 at the age of 38. At 35 we were still on the charity show circuit and we were still winning! He was still taking the barrels with the young un’s and he was still spirited and proud. He carted my fat butt all over the mountain trails. He was old, and he LOVED the trails. He loved cutting cattle even when I didn’t want to and ended up on the ground because I wasn’t expecting him to go after a calf. (He turned right, my butt went straight). He was passed over because he was a little sway back and had sad eyes by many people, but they didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t know the happy nicker as soon as I walked through a gate. They didn’t know the full out gallop that would take your breath away when I gave him his head. They didn’t know the absolute devotion of standing alone in the middle of a field with a herd of horses that were agitated and fighting and this old man of a horse, smaller than the rest, came and stood in front of this silly human girl with teeth bared and ears pinned and hooves flying to protect her and put three young geldings in their places. They didn’t see the courage of this old horse who with 100 yellow jacket stings and suffering galloped down a mountain 10 miles in 30 minutes to get his human girl to the medics because she was dying from over 30 stings. He was sick for three months with full on vet attention at 37 years old but he did it for me. He took a 5 hour trailer trip to the coast in 2002 to ride the beach and raise money for the fireman from 9-11 and he galloped through the sand and water and held his head high. He carried the American Flag in every opening ceremony and he arched that neck and high stepped because he KNEW he was doing something important.
People forgot that he had been a champion. That he had legendary blood running through his veins. That he was loyal beyond what is expected from a horse. He taught me so much about life and courage and what it means to love and dream. HE TAUGHT ME TO LOVE the older horses that were discarded by others. To not give up on them and deal with their aging bodies like arthritis, diarrhea and rotting teeth with compassion and understanding. And from the grave, today, he has given me one more lesson. Do not give up on myself.
It’s not my time to be overlooked and pushed down. I still have a lot of life and love to give and I can still do this. My body can still do this for the love of another and the chance to live a dream. Tonight, I will walk out to the back of my land, and visit the grave of Buck (yes, that’s where Buckin came from) and let him know he is still not forgotten and is still helping me learn and live. And one day, his favorite place where he rests, will have a new hope grazing there. A small old quarter horse forgotten by others but making a new child’s dream come true and teaching the lessons of life. My child. And the legacy of Buck and Me and our amazing story will live on into another generation.
So I took a shower, gave myself a mani/pedi and painted all my digits electric turquoise (very 90’s and very unprofessional). I did a home wax and shaped my eyebrows and cleaned up the lip and chin area (darn PCOS hair growth in unattractive places). This morning, I hot rolled my hair and put on heels and a dress. My boobs look damn good in this dress. I usually wear tennis shoes, jeans and cute shirts with my hair pulled back because I work in an automotive shop and the floors can get slick from the grease, armorall etc. They detail the vehicles in the bay that is between the women’s restroom and my little office (that we call the doghouse) so respectable shoes are a must along with the required safety glasses. Screw it. I’m in slick high heels that are barely held on my feet by two rhinestone encrusted straps. I have on a long black and white maxi dress with a little white crochet shrug and my hair is in big tussled curls half way down my back. There are tongues rolling around on the floor everywhere. Ahh the power of boobs and a body that has lost 46 pounds and has a waste and hips. I feel empowered! You want to discriminate against me because I’m a woman? Fine. I’ll use my womanhood and all the power contained there in. ::screams out:: HOW DO YOU LIKE ME NOW!?
Anyway, so I’m having a good day by sheer force of will. I have a very Sookie Stackhouse smile plastered on my face and I’m strutting it because I can. Sometimes you have to hold your head up and dare the world to push you down. IF is like that. Every month of disappointment comes and goes and you grieve and get disappointed and want to give up, but one day into AF you stand up straight and say, NOT THIS TIME. I shall not go peacefully into the night...and you dust yourself off and look for the next course of action. I’m not ready to give up yet. I have a few good years left to fight and I’m not going to be put out to pasture yet like an old horse.
I know a thing or two about old horses. My favorite horse in the whole world whom I loved beyond what is reasonable died in June 2006 at the age of 38. At 35 we were still on the charity show circuit and we were still winning! He was still taking the barrels with the young un’s and he was still spirited and proud. He carted my fat butt all over the mountain trails. He was old, and he LOVED the trails. He loved cutting cattle even when I didn’t want to and ended up on the ground because I wasn’t expecting him to go after a calf. (He turned right, my butt went straight). He was passed over because he was a little sway back and had sad eyes by many people, but they didn’t know what I knew. They didn’t know the happy nicker as soon as I walked through a gate. They didn’t know the full out gallop that would take your breath away when I gave him his head. They didn’t know the absolute devotion of standing alone in the middle of a field with a herd of horses that were agitated and fighting and this old man of a horse, smaller than the rest, came and stood in front of this silly human girl with teeth bared and ears pinned and hooves flying to protect her and put three young geldings in their places. They didn’t see the courage of this old horse who with 100 yellow jacket stings and suffering galloped down a mountain 10 miles in 30 minutes to get his human girl to the medics because she was dying from over 30 stings. He was sick for three months with full on vet attention at 37 years old but he did it for me. He took a 5 hour trailer trip to the coast in 2002 to ride the beach and raise money for the fireman from 9-11 and he galloped through the sand and water and held his head high. He carried the American Flag in every opening ceremony and he arched that neck and high stepped because he KNEW he was doing something important.
People forgot that he had been a champion. That he had legendary blood running through his veins. That he was loyal beyond what is expected from a horse. He taught me so much about life and courage and what it means to love and dream. HE TAUGHT ME TO LOVE the older horses that were discarded by others. To not give up on them and deal with their aging bodies like arthritis, diarrhea and rotting teeth with compassion and understanding. And from the grave, today, he has given me one more lesson. Do not give up on myself.
It’s not my time to be overlooked and pushed down. I still have a lot of life and love to give and I can still do this. My body can still do this for the love of another and the chance to live a dream. Tonight, I will walk out to the back of my land, and visit the grave of Buck (yes, that’s where Buckin came from) and let him know he is still not forgotten and is still helping me learn and live. And one day, his favorite place where he rests, will have a new hope grazing there. A small old quarter horse forgotten by others but making a new child’s dream come true and teaching the lessons of life. My child. And the legacy of Buck and Me and our amazing story will live on into another generation.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Reality vs Possibility
My husband, bless his heart, likes to annoy me and has no shame. Do not be delluded that men are not gossips. They are worse then most women. My husband has a habit of telling his work buddies about the funny "incidents" that go on at our house, often to my embarrassment. Most embarrassment comes on my part when I have been particularly moody (raging irrational psycho bitch) or we have some assclapping catastrophe (ever gagged so hard you threw up on him? been there, done that and everyone at DH's work knows about it, thanks honey). Well, my dear sweet man of a husband likes to share these incidents with his comrades at work (okay, only a select few of them but still). Yesterday, he shared my dream (and I'm pretty sure expanded on my reaction to it).
The funny thing is, that DICK just recently left this place of employment after several years (he was "laid" off but really they just wanted to get rid of him because he became such a douche) AND Trashley's ex-husband USED to work for this company, SO EVERYONE knows the backstory and all the players. (Follow all that Jerry Springer nonsense?) DH's comrades got a huge kick out of the whole scenario of Dick and his "whore" as well as my being ticked off at DH over a dream.
Apparently, I am not alone in this that I get mad at DH over things he does in my dreams as one of DH's coworkers has actually been exiled to the sofa in the middle of the night for something he "did" in his wife's dream. Atleast I have NEVER taken it THAT far! It still leads me to ponder the vividness of my dreams, the rationality of my dreams and the scary thought that they will get worse, more vivid, etc. during pregnancy.
So the reality is that I'm obsessing so much about TTC that I'm making up more things to obsess about? Are my icecream cravings and wierd dreams phantom symptoms or just coincidence? The Reality is that I have a sweet tooth anyway occasionally and that I have ALWAYS been a vivid dreamer. These "recent" experiences have NOTHING whatsoever to do with TTC or pregnancy. Having said that, it is a very realy POSSIBILITY, that I will experience these things on a larger, more frequent scale during pregnancy since I am prone to them now. THAT is a scary proposition for both my poor DH and me (but possible future entertainment for my readers).
The funny thing is, that DICK just recently left this place of employment after several years (he was "laid" off but really they just wanted to get rid of him because he became such a douche) AND Trashley's ex-husband USED to work for this company, SO EVERYONE knows the backstory and all the players. (Follow all that Jerry Springer nonsense?) DH's comrades got a huge kick out of the whole scenario of Dick and his "whore" as well as my being ticked off at DH over a dream.
Apparently, I am not alone in this that I get mad at DH over things he does in my dreams as one of DH's coworkers has actually been exiled to the sofa in the middle of the night for something he "did" in his wife's dream. Atleast I have NEVER taken it THAT far! It still leads me to ponder the vividness of my dreams, the rationality of my dreams and the scary thought that they will get worse, more vivid, etc. during pregnancy.
So the reality is that I'm obsessing so much about TTC that I'm making up more things to obsess about? Are my icecream cravings and wierd dreams phantom symptoms or just coincidence? The Reality is that I have a sweet tooth anyway occasionally and that I have ALWAYS been a vivid dreamer. These "recent" experiences have NOTHING whatsoever to do with TTC or pregnancy. Having said that, it is a very realy POSSIBILITY, that I will experience these things on a larger, more frequent scale during pregnancy since I am prone to them now. THAT is a scary proposition for both my poor DH and me (but possible future entertainment for my readers).
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Non-Pregnancy dreams
Everyone talks about the dreams they have while pregnant. Crazy dreams, orgasmic dreams, gender prediction dreams etc. What does it mean when you have crazy psycho dreams while TTC that stress you the heck out? Like I NEED more stress and sleepless nights that effect my morning temps. How bad can it be you say? Here's the background for this dream so it will make sense: My BFF's DH ditched her (and their two kids) after 9 years of marriage and promptly moved in with her OTHER BFF. He USED to be best friends with my DH but when he ditched his family, he backstabbed all of his friends as well. (No loss to me but I feel sorry for my DH). I know this girl, I call her Trashley and we will call him oh I dunno, DICK, and she knows it is in her best interest to never cross my path. Here's my dream:
Dick calls my DH and says, you don't have to worry, Trashley isn't pregnant afterall she lost the baby so its not yours either anymore. WHAT? My DH slept with her? Even in my DREAM we both knew it was a lie, possibly a trick to break us up just to be evil but I was SOOO upset! Then it gets a little wierd (can it possibly get MORE WIERD?) and Dick says "but I do need to let you know that she has a Sexually Transmitted Disease so you need to get checked out" and DH says "well I guess I need to let my brother know since he REALLY did sleep with her" and I'm just dumbfounded.
In my dream, I experienced so many emotions and I woke up sweating, fists clenched, crying with a big ball of rage lodged in my throat. WTF is wrong with me? I didn't sleep the rest of the night. I tossed and turned and everytime I closed my eyes, I went right back to the dream in my head. I'm tired, I'm cranky and I'm not going to be very pleasant today. I didn't need this added anxiety. I'm becoming bitter even in sleep.
Dick calls my DH and says, you don't have to worry, Trashley isn't pregnant afterall she lost the baby so its not yours either anymore. WHAT? My DH slept with her? Even in my DREAM we both knew it was a lie, possibly a trick to break us up just to be evil but I was SOOO upset! Then it gets a little wierd (can it possibly get MORE WIERD?) and Dick says "but I do need to let you know that she has a Sexually Transmitted Disease so you need to get checked out" and DH says "well I guess I need to let my brother know since he REALLY did sleep with her" and I'm just dumbfounded.
In my dream, I experienced so many emotions and I woke up sweating, fists clenched, crying with a big ball of rage lodged in my throat. WTF is wrong with me? I didn't sleep the rest of the night. I tossed and turned and everytime I closed my eyes, I went right back to the dream in my head. I'm tired, I'm cranky and I'm not going to be very pleasant today. I didn't need this added anxiety. I'm becoming bitter even in sleep.
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