That La Kid

wishin' an' hopin'!

fffffffffffffppptttttttt

Last night I dreamed that my water broke, but I wasn’t positive if it was really happening.  It was just kind of trickling out.  Mom, Trudy, Lindsay and Sunny would not take me to the hospital until after they showed Haley the great pizza restaurant with the amazing salad dressing.  We did a lot of walking through tall grass to try and find the place.

Yeah.  That’s all I’ve got.  I’m as lost as you are.  What pizza restaurant?  No idea.

I don’t like close calls.  “To be early is to be on time.”  I feel like they were thinking labor takes a while – we’ve got time.  But for me, it wasn’t about having time… it was about amniotic fluid dripping down my leg.  Can my baby live without that?  Since when is salad dressing more important than– actually, you know what?  Haley doesn’t even LIKE dressing on her salad!

All of these things that once seemed far off are rapidly approaching.  Tomorrow, we are doing a final walk-through of the house and then on Friday we’re closing!  Tom already had the power and water changed to our names as of Friday.  So, on Friday night we’re ordering pizza and watching the Olympics on the floor in our new living room.

Time to buy the kid a dresser!  Time to do the baby’s room!  Time to pack up and get out of here!  Time to move again… and not move again for 10+ years!

One thing I am preoccupied with is hooks.  I want to get little hooks to hang on the wall near his dresser or changing table.  Do not ask me why.  But this morning, after I recovered from the WTF dream, I was like, “Today’s Wednesday!  We close on Friday!  I need to buy hooks!”

My favorite place in Charlotte is closing… so I am going to bring this to an abrupt end to go paint some pottery at Our Pottery Paintin’ Place.  They are citing the economy.  I hate to hear that.  I really wish the owner was retiring to the Bahamas or something.

Here’s my work in progress:

Image

I feel like this whole post was a brain fart.

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last night

EXT: Africa.  Daytime, in the middle of genocide

We’re running alongside a river, and a man wearing lots of guns runs out of the woods.  We’re terrified, but he is shot, and collapses.  We walk past him into the cover of the woods and eventually find a huge tree.  The tree is almost magical, and reminds me of a book that I read once.  (Although being awake, I have no idea what book I was thinking about.)  There is a grizzly old man standing by the tree.  He motions for us to climb it.  I am surprised by how easily I’m able to get up.  The trunk of the tree is huge, like a house.  Once I get near the top, I can’t see any of the branches that I used to climb up, and have no way of getting down. 

Before I know it, they need the tree for something, so they’re cutting it down.  I wasn’t as devastated in my dream as I am now reflecting on it.  I just waited and kept crying about not being able to get down.  Eventually, I fell out of the tree, but I wasn’t as high up as I thought I was at that point and it didn’t hurt.  Wasn’t much of a fall, really.  Just a plop – and oh, I’m down.  

I have a collection of things like flowers and leaves that I want to make rubbings of in my sketchbook and press to use later.  There are other things that I wanted to make rubbings of that make no sense, like a razor blade, or piece of thin metal and I think a bicycle chain.  I asked Tom to get my sketchbook and he walked away, leaving me with the old man and an old woman. 

I felt very much like a child through the whole dream, at least, from the part where I saw the tree.  Before that, I was some kind of rebel, almost a secret agent.  I feel like I can’t describe it enough.  The actual dream was much longer and more intense than this short description of it.

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i hate those dreams

Have you ever had that dream where you just can’t find a bathroom?  Or once you find it, you can’t get any privacy?

Last night, I was at Olive Garden with Mom, Dad, Dee Dee and Trudy.  Mom, Dee Dee, Trudy and I all got up to go to the bathroom after we ordered.  My stall didn’t have a door on it.  People kept coming in and I was afraid to get up.  (I forgot a little bit about bathroom attempt number 1 after I woke up.)

I went to the Capitol in a wheelchair to try and find a better bathroom.  I found really nice bathrooms, and settled on a toilet that was one of four in a big open area.  At one point, a shower across from me turned on and started spraying water in my face.  I yelled for somebody, anybody, to come turn off the water.   A little boy came and turned it off.  Men kept coming in the Ladies’ Room.  Every time I thought I was safe, a new group of men would walk in and I’d yell, “This is the girls’ bathroom!!  WTF!!”  There was a little girl playing with a race car at the entrance, so they thought naturally that it was a little boy and that this was the Mens’ Room.

I went back to Olive Garden to try my luck again there.  Mom, Dee Dee and Trudy all came back in to check on me.  I thought that I was in a stall, but my stall had no door or walls.  I looked at Trudy and Dee Dee and said, “so you can see me?  Everything?”  Trudy said, “Uhhhh, yeah!”  Some cleaning lady asked if I was through so she could clean, but Mom sent her away.  Before I know it, Mom’s rolling out tp for me, while some guy watches again.  I ran to another stall, not only was I in this awkward “I’ve been trying to poop for 4 hours” mode, but I was also running around the bathroom naked, dodging cleaning ladies left and right.

Eventually I was rescued from my torture by waking up.  SO RELIEVED – psychologically and physically.  I didn’t even have to go – which is usually the case with those dreams, especially for a pregnant lady.  I HATE those dreams.

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bad dreams

As of tomorrow, we’ll be 10 weeks pregnant.  Geez, that really doesn’t feel like a lot of weeks.  It’s interesting, because the last time I went this long without a period (September ’11), we scheduled a doctor’s appointment to officially confirm pregnancy and while I waited for Tom to come home from work and take me to the appointment, George showed up.

I remember thinking, “is this what a miscarriage feels like?”  It didn’t feel like much of anything, just overwhelming sadness at losing the fantasy I had created in my mind.  I laid on the couch with my legs up on the back cushions and just prayed and prayed for God to not take this away from me.

I know, right?  Pathetic.  Take what from you?  Your hysterical pregnancy?  Your delirium?  YOUR GARGANTUAN CYST?!  In hindsight, I was like a teenager who thinks her parents don’t know anything.  God’s been around the block – he knows what he’s doing.  I was NOT pregnant… but something needed to be done about that watermelon, Mr. Nasty Potroast McGrosserton.

Fast forward to last night.

I had a dream that I was bleeding.  My reaction was just, “Oh, wonderful.  Here we go again.”  Why would I expect otherwise?  Why did I think it would actually work out this time?  In the dream, Dad and I were driving north on 29 through Ruckersville, and I remember debating whether or not to tell him what was happening.  I was debating on whether or not to go to a doctor.  It didn’t feel like I was losing a baby, it just felt like I had been wrong all along.

Then I woke up.

I was devastated.  Because in THIS universe, I DO have a positive pregnancy test.  In this world, a doctor told me, “Congratulations!”  So for a second there, my dream overlapped with real life.  For a second, I thought I lost a baby that I often forget I really am carrying.

I looked around the room and saw prenatal vitamins on the nightstand.  The positive EPT is still on the bathroom counter.  Wait.  What?  Where am I?  I’m at home.  Period?  No.  Baby?  Yes!

Weeeeird, huh?  Kind of an eerie anniversary.  It’s almost like, “Remember?  Last time you only made it this far.”  This time we’re going all the way.

 

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