I have dreamed for the last three nights in a row about this baby. In every dream, she is exceptionally rotund... that delicious fat kind of baby that you just want to bury your face in their rolls and munch on their cheeks... ah. I love fat babies. She also has inch-long brown hair. If this comes to pass, I want it on the record that I am a seer and a prophetess. If it does not come to pass, I want it on the record that I am a dreamer of dreams, and they are just yet to be interpreted.
Of course, for the first two nights I dreamt she was actually a boy. Then last night I dreamt she was a girl but that my Mom gave birth to her in her work office, wrapped her in a blanket, and then just continued typing on the computer. Olivia and I went up to see her and were so thrilled. My Mom was very worried about how she was going to explain this to her co-workers.
I have very vivid and strange dreams in real life, but add pregnancy and restlessness to that and you get some doozies. For instance: this morning I dreamed I was at the Ute Stampede and we were going to stay at my Uncle Craig's cabin, but he wouldn't give us the directions unless my Holland cousins and I went and slaughtered chickens in Sanpete first. The chickens were washed one by one in a car wash, had little bows stuck on them, and then were herded to me: I was the one who was supposed to carry them to the slaughter. I started crying and begging my cousin Katie to trade me jobs, 'cause she was the one who put bows on. She swore at me and told me to grow up, 'cause I had always been such a bratty cousin.
I don't want to slaughter chickens.
The night before that I dreamt that the Double B and I were thrown in prison but got to hang out in the garage for good behavior. When lo and behold, the Double B's high school infatuation (who for some reason I am unnaturally jealous of, even to this day) conveniently got thrown into the same garage cell. The Double B flirted up a storm with her. Like I didn't even exist. I was very put-out. When we got out of prison, he decided (I guess?) to take a second wife, but the rule was he had to impregnate her that night. Let me tell you, dream-Marie was screaming like a banshee. It was not very pleasant at all.
I don't want my husband to impregnate a second wife.
I did not get the sympathy I deserved for my nighttime angst, either. That morning I told my beloved Double B all about the dream and how he was going to impregnate his second wife. The conversation went like this:
Ben: Did I do it?
Ben: Well, good for me!
He's a total punk. Go ahead. You can say it. It won't hurt my feelings at all! In fact, I think I have some residual anger over the whole adultery thing, because in a total moment of evil-pregnant-woman, I down right refused to make him any whipped cream yesterday. I kind of made a scene. In front of my whole family. Flat-out NO. He was stunned.
But he deserved it.
He just didn't know it.
I think one day I will look back at this time and think to myself "Wow, I handled my pregnancies so well! I am amazing!" For real.
P.S. This morning was K.J.'s end of the year testing, and he could be in the middle of first grade right now. Basically, he is a boy genius.
P.P.S. You have no idea how much I appreciate you reading this useless fodder. Really. For real. Again.