Dreams

I've spent much time analyzing my dreams from day one of this pregnancy due to their psychic abilities with my pregnancy with Luke.

I wrote down ALL of my dreams during Luke's pregnancy in a pregnancy dream journal that my eccentric astrology loving sister gave me (notice the difference in free time between a new mom and a mom of one already). Yes, I had time for all that bananas and journaling...I even did it with a pen instead of a computer!! Egads!

A recurring theme in almost ALL of those dreams was the color blue. There would be black and white dreams about everything under the sun, but with a startling blue car or blue shirt or blue hair. Blue was everywhere and it stood out in every dream.

For this baby, the colors are totally telling me zilch. Of all of my pregnancy dreams thus far, there is only one common theme and it's an intensely odd theme...ex lovers.

I call them ex lovers only because that sounds more exotic and makes me sound like an experienced lady of the night...which is so far from the truth. I've loved almost everyone I've ever banged except for that one dude, Jeremy, who had a fantasy of screwing to monk chanting music...we did it once and I never went back for seconds.

So back to the dreams. They are all about ex boyfriends or ex crushes or ex lovahs. Every single one of them...men that I haven't thought of in years...decades even. Men that I may not recognize if I passed them on the street.

But one by one, every single one of them is popping back up in my own little night dramas. What does this mean? I'm perplexed by it since my dreams for Luke were so amazingly telling.

Last night was the Iraq soldier from my church who I communicated with online for his entire Iraq stint, professed my love and adoration to, and was crushed when he returned to just think of me as a friend.

Monday night was the grade school crush that I had flings with off and on over the years. He broke my heart at least 3 times and I in turn broke his at least 3 times. But for almost 15 years we passed in and out of each other's lives in intense passion and love (don't laugh...I mean that...of course he is also the guy that I'm almost positive that I got the common and popular little STD from which I will not name)

And YES, I had an STD - it was very common and I caught it early and had it taken care of so shut up, I've probably still been less of a hussy than you...I just got a bum deal from my limited hussiness.

Sunday night was my ex husband, and the dream was uneventful, sort of like the marriage itself.

Saturday night was the guy with the hugest schlong I ever encountered that I dated for almost a year - a weenie so huge that oral sex was near impossible, but I so loved him anyway because he was a redneck who called me "darlin". Oddly enough, he was really small and short...the weenie was a total shock on that guy.

Last week was the total opposite...the little Cuban dude with the teensy tinsy weenie that I actually almost married and who would fuss at me not to hold his weenie between my index and thumb fingers because it made it look smaller. BWAHAHAHAHA - as if my fingers were needed to accentuate its smallness.

None of the dreams are sexual though, mind you, I just seem to catagorize my men by the size and shape of their birds, I suppose. Never really thought about that until I realized that I described almost every guy by his penis.

Usually the dreams are just about me being single again and trying to win their hearts or us being in a relationship again. Or just the day to day life of what it was to be with them.

Very strange. I'm almost excited to go to sleep and see which old beau I will bump into tonight.

I've searched for the color pink or blue - nothing. Just a steady stream of ex boyfriends all lining up and waiting for their turn to capture my memories and remind me of their existence.

So what do you think? I'm crazy? I need to mount my husband to rid myself of obvious sexual frustration (um, no, I'm not in the mood AT ALL)?

And don't think that I love my husband less. I'm madly in love with Ziggy even though he's a jackass on most days. I wouldn't trade him for anyone that I've passed in my dreams.



I just don't get it.

No news

The ultrasound was a bust. Other than seeing a gorgeously growing and healthy fetus - we saw no gender. So naturaly and selfishly the ultrasound was declared a bust.

I wish I had more time to write. Between work and home lately I feel like I am going a million miles a minute. I have about 10 posts backed up in my brain that I need to let out.

I'm so sorry. I suck. It's 9:00, I need to pee, bathe, spend a smidge of time with my kid, check the pool water level and fold a load of clothes and hopefully crash by 10:00. AHHHH!!!

I need a break from this schedule I've had lately.

Fuck that

Hold up!

Quick a 2nd post in one day!!

Fuck that. Walmart's registry website is even more complicated and slow loading than Babies R Us was - if that is even possible. We stick with Babies R Us. Check out the registry if you know me and let me know if I forget anything or chose anything shitty.

Registered

So I registered. That was painful. If you know my last name you are welcome to check it out at Babies R Us and tell me all about how much I suck or sucked at picking things out. I'm cool with that.

For Luke, I had few options. Option A was "whatever is cheapest in that particular item" or Option B which was "whatever I got free from people". Having an unexpected pregnancy out of wedlock does that to you.

Now I have all these options and I'm flipped out over it. I'm by NO stretch of the imagination, wealthy, but I also don't make $8.00 an hour anymore like I did for poor Luke.

So I registered and it took me HOURS and then friggin Walmart sends me a registry book and I'm all like - shit - I should have registered at Walmart. So now I'm going to see if registering at Walmart is easier and more pleasant than registering at Babies R Us and if it is, well, Babies R Us can suck it, because registering with them gave me an ulcer.

Sorry this post sucks - I have chores to do.

Fro Fro

WARNING - much longer post than usual, so grab a snack before you start!

As mentioned before, I grew up on the lake, in a camp on top of water with an oyster shell driveway. Seriously, no joke. You had to walk up 20 steps to get to my front door. It was a totally awesome environment to grow up in, but that's not what this is about.

When I was born, I had a Winnie the Pooh baby pillow. It was a perfect square and super soft and I can close my eyes and still see clearly every memory I am about to share. I became attached to one corner of the pillow which I would fiddle with between my right thumb and forefinger while sucking on my index finger of my left hand. The comfort and ectasy I got from performing those two actions at the same time is something I rarely feel in adulthood.

During a wild winter storm in December (wind and rain, no snow, this is the south people), I was standing on the side porch over the water of our house while my parents were securing our outside belongings from the wind and it happened...my pillow, my beloved fro fro, blew into the water. Lake Pontchartrain took my fro fro.

Noone knows why I named it fro fro except that maybe it was my earliest form of saying the word pillow. Fro fro blew into the water and the storm and the wind and the cold were more than my father was willing to jump in the lake for to retrieve my precious belonging despite my screaming and pleading.

I must have been about 4 or so. I wailed for weeks over it. My mother tried substitutions. Finally, and I remember this VERY clearly, she found a little stuffed blue elephant in Winn Dixie and asked me if I wanted it. I fiddled with his floppy ears with my thumb and index finger and declared him FRO FRO.

Since then, there have been numerous fro fro's. I have no recollection of what happened to fro fro, the blue elephant, but most of the others I remember very clearly. Somehow he evolved into the corner of my Star Wars pillow case (we LOVED Star Wars - probably because my father tried at every turn to make us boys).

See, on most all pillow cases, on the closed side, there is one corner that is super pointy and one corner that is fairly rounded. If you twiddle the slightly rounded corner enough, it will soften and round out into an ideal Fro Fro.

I remember in the 4th grade, I took scissors and cut off the corner of the Star Wars fro fro so that I could fit it in my school uniform pocket and never be without fro fro when I needed him. I would secretly take him out and fiddle with him at my desk all day in grade school until my whore sister told my mother about it and my mom made me stop.

I was able to give up the finger sucking by second grade, but fro fro never went away.

There were two more most notable fro fro's. In high school my sister and I got matching black and white checkered bed sets. Actually, if you look at Adam Sandler's bed sheets in The Wedding Singer they are IDENTICAL to those. That fro fro lasted a LONG time - all through high school and half way through college. On a flight home from Hawaii, I left that fro fro on the plane and never saw him again.

Bonding to a new fro fro is a long and tedious task. It takes months of finger fiddling to become accustomed to a new one and I haven't had to do it in years. However, with every new bed sheet set, I find myself subconsciously checking each pillow case end to find which ones would possibly be fro fro material in the event that a tragic loss happened again.

After the checkered one was lost, it became a mint green pillowcase with white flowers on it. That was in the end of college and that, my friends, is the fro fro that is still on my bed today, over ten years later. I am loyal if nothing else.

This fro fro has been to Florida, Chicago, Texas, Mississippi, Arkansas, Nevada, Alabama, Georgia, California and the Bahamas - it has lived in two apartments and two houses. It has been on two honeymoons and in the hospital for the birth of my first child. If I am going to be anywhere overnight, my fro fro comes with me.

Once during a weekend trip to Biloxi, MS, my fro fro was taken accidentally by the housekeepers of the hotel. It took my current husband, who was just my boyfriend at the time, about 3 hours and $20 under the table to salvage it from the laundry room.

This may all seem psychotic to you, but if you knew my childhood story and you knew some of my even fairly recent adult story then you would concede to just let this woman have her damn fro fro. If a child chooses to cling to a pillow case while her parents beat the shit out of each other, then dammit, just let her have it.

My crutch on the corner of a certain pillow case that I fiddle with to put me to sleep or while I'm relaxing is not something that I am proud of. My entire family makes fun of it including my parents and my own child.

Luke and Ziggy have played jokes and hid it from me. They are assholes when they do that. I don't share fro fro with the general population because I KNOW that it is strange and immature, but when I tell you that I cannot sleep without him, I swear to you that I CANNOT sleep without him.

This current fro fro has particular meaning to me. It is the first "blanket" that I swaddled my son in at the hospital. It is what I wrapped up my dear sweet dog, Lola, in to bring her to the vet on her last day of life. It is the same pillow case that I used to smuggle sweet Lola into the Super 8 motel when we evacuated for Hurricane Katrina. It seriously is that much a part of my life. I've dried millions of tears with it - millions - springing from the eyes of myself, my son, my husband - because it's usually close at hand during those kinds of moments. (I keep it loose and not on an actual pillow so it's just more like a little blanket than a pillow case.)

My closest boyfriends in life knew and understood the seriousness of fro fro. On the night that I lost my virginity, I was shaking like a leaf afterwards and crying and Patrick immediately got up, yanked off the condom and handed me fro fro and then curled up behind me. When I'm on the sofa resting or sick, Ziggy and occasionally even Luke will bring me my fro fro as easily as if they were bringing me a glass of water. Seriously. It's as much a part of my life as air and Ziggy knows that if I die I want to be buried in pajamas with socks on (I loathe being barefoot at night with no socks) with fro fro in my hand.

I've noticed the wear and tear on current fro fro. When you hold the corner up to the light, it is so worn down that you can see the individual threads through it. I've tried to use him less so I can hang on to him longer, but then the hole appeared. The part that was see-through became an actual hole.

So I tried to twiddle around the hole. Then last night, I was laying in bed watching TV and a small part of the threaded guts in that inner part of a pillow case oozed out of the hole like a cooked ramen noodle. I screamed and Ziggy came running thinking I was hurt.

Naturally he laughed his ass off when he saw the reason for my distress. He mended fro fro the best he could and then he sat and talked to me seriously about giving it up. GIVE IT UP? WTF, man? Seriously? Does he not realize that he is merely one of 100 people who have tried to convince me to give it up? Is he psychotic?

So fro fro is partially mended right now, but it's obvious that his days are numbered and I am faced with a huge decision. Do I seriously try to give up my fro fro need forever and cold turkey say goodbye to my most trusted and oldest ally, or do I begin to court a new pillow case corner to take his place?

If you are laughing then go ahead. Who cares? This is serious for me. You can tell me I need therapy and guess what? I have had it. I've had four serious therapists in my life (hell between my parents and my husband, you should be shocked that it is so few and not many more). NONE of my therapists have ever seen a problem with fro fro, and actually 2 of the 4 told me that they found fro fro to be a healthy outlet for personal comfort. So, na nee na nee boo boo on you.

So that is the story of fro fro. Laugh. Make fun. You won't be the first and you won't be the last. In the meantime I am saying goodbye to a very old friend and possibly having to replace him and it sucks and I hate it and I'm really sad over it.

Talons

I haven't posted for a really silly reason. I got my nails did, girl. Seriously, I was feeling fat and ugly and just blah and I made a spur of the moment decision to get some acrylic nails.

They make my hands look totally lurvely and Ziggy loves them (anything you do to make yourself look like a hooker is a turn on for him...no I'm really serious about that.) However, my normal ridiculously fast typing speed with zero errors is now reduced to a chick pecking on corn and missing over and over again and it's really just pissing me off.

So now I'm torn. Do I keep my fabulously gorgeous nails and suffer drastically in typing and working and picking my nose? Or do I pop the bitches off and return to my nubbiness of speed and precision.

Decisions. Decisions.

Plus sized bitch

I went on a dreadful mission tonight. I hate clothes shopping on a normal size 6 kind of day. I always have. Having to go buy an outfit is always a horrific gut wrenching experience and I'm not just being a drama queen - I really hate it.

Tack on a few rolls and a 2nd trimester belly and my trip to Motherhood required the support of my husband this evening. I found out this morning that my future SIL's wedding shower is a dressy affair. SHIT! I only have maternity pants and jeans and capris so far. Definitely no skirts or dresses.

So the emergency trip to Motherhood began. After 5 trips into the dressing room and a very uncomfortable husband who had no idea that nursing bras existed, but was fascinated by their engineering - I finally settled on a decent enough skirt/blouse combo to take me through whatever showers and tea and crumpet affairs I may have in the next few months.

While waiting at the register, I saw the most fabulous underwear on earth. I wanted them. I needed them. They were so soft and stretchy. I looked at the size and absent mindedly said, "oooh one size fits all" out loud.

The skinny bitch at the register then said VERY loudly so the whole store could hear, "oh mam, the plus size ones are in that back section there."

AHEM.

I SAID AHEM!!

Are you fucking kidding me? Plus size? No, really?

Look you skinny twig whom I could crack over my apparant ham hock thighs, let me clue you in on something hun. I may not be a "cute" pregnant gal. I may already be in an XL shirt because of my normally bulging D's that are already busting out of DD cups. I may be swollen already and look about 6 - 8 weeks more pregnant than I should at this point, but my flat ass and my non existent thighs are still wearing size 6 underwear so you can suck my husband's nuts.

No I didn't say that. I didn't even think it. What I did say was nothing. What I did do is slowly put the package back and crumble inwardly in self loathing and embarrassment and was actually even embarrassed in front of my own husband...the man that I just farted LOUDLY at in the car.

So a slice of Sbarro's and a new pair of shoes later and I'm feeling fine, but dang, I still want to smack the ho.

Lock up your mothers

I apologize for being MIA. My father is in town and he is VERY demanding of your time...or perhaps I am very needy of his love and approval...not sure which one, you decide.

Today was my 16 week check up (yes, I know I'm 4 days early, but that's how the ball bounces folks). The heart beat was 155 and he/she is still sitting right under my belly button smack in the center (Luke always favored the left side in the first 20 weeks). We discussed my never ending shits and my itchy hooha and all is well.

I dropped down to 1000mg of Metformin to hopefully help the poops and I'm supposed to use lurvely Vagisil until my next appointment and if the itch ain't gone, then we take some pills.

It's hard to explain an itchy hooha to a husband who is begging for loving and you're still trying to remain 1% sexy during pregnancy. Thank goodness he has a bad cold and he's out like a light by 8:00 every night this week, so I haven't had to explain yet. WOO HOO for me!

So like I said, Barry, the lady killer dad is in the house so I don't have much time, but I just wanted to drop in, say hello and promise to be back soon.

Oh a quick shout out to my TTC soul sister, Rissa, who will be induced in less than 12 hours - I can't wait to meet Mr. PB&J and don't worry, you will do AWESOME!

Updates

I have an update on the Friend from the Past post of earlier this week. Well, after a couple of calls back and forth and a few texts, it appears to have fizzled out. At first I was relieved and then I noticed that Ziggy seemed really sad about it.

When I first met him, his friends were his whole life - the good, the bad and the ugly - they were his life. He had probably 60 guy friends in his phone that he regularly talked to and hung out with.

Since getting clean, I think he gets lonely. He's made a couple of acquaintance type buddies along the way, but he still hasn't made that type of friend that comes over to help you put in the new cabinets or would be there for you as your baby's god father.

So I felt guilty. The more I thought of Scott, the more I realized how safe he was. He was always a really great guy who just drank ALOT and enjoyed an occasional fattie. But he was decent and a hard worker and a great friend who was almost as betrayed by Ziggy as I once was. And here is is reaching out from the past.

Ziggy never had a drinking problem. He truly dislikes alcohol and can have a beer or two a year and never want any more than that. Since alcohol is this guy's primary vice and I doubt that he would light up a fattie around Ziggy knowing his history, I found myself in the car today on the way to Wal-Mart almost trying to convince Ziggy to invite him over one night to show him our house and just hang out.

I couldn't believe I was doing it, but my rationality kicked in and I realized that Scott could actually be safer than a few of the acquaintance friends we've made in the past couple years.

So that's that. That's where we are now. I have more updates on life and pregnancy and I'll try to post again tomorrow.