This morning at 5am, I woke up right before I went to the battlefield in my dream. You read that right. My dream took on 2 parts, the first part happened the night before the big battle, it was a strategy meeting among officials in a house. I was just trying to get some sleep {both in real life and in the dream}. The battle was supposed to take place at 5:30am, present day but Civil War style. Line up and volley, kinda thing. I couldn’t sleep, so I went to check out where the battle was going to take place, saw all the commotion, and honestly friendly people on both sides laughing and bantering before the line-up. I went back to camp for breakfast under the tent, where I couldn’t find a seat for both Zoe and myself. We eventually grabbed some food and then I had to take Zoe to the daycare that the army provided during the battle.
And then I woke up thinking, “What in the freaking WORLD?!?!?”
About 2 minutes later I heard a door down the hall open and shut. Ah, here comes Zoe. It’s still pitch black outside. She stumbled up to the bed, and I reached to help her up. Brad rolled over and said, “It’s 5 in the morning.” Zoe started asking for her “Dapi” and I said, “Shhhh. Just go to sleep”. Brad kept mumbling, “It’s freaking 5 in the morning” and Zoe started whimpering for her dapi. I suggested we go find her dapi and then she would have to go back to her bed. She agreed and we left Brad to sleep undisturbed. And then Zoe walked into a wall.
Whoops.
I got everybody settled back into their respective places and crawled back into bed myself, wide awake. Freaking pregnancy hormones. {Granted, I’ll take insomnia pregnancy hormones any day of the week over “roller coaster, crazy town, Mommy’s losing her mind” pregnancy hormones}. And, so I laid there, for 2 more hours until Brad’s alarm went off, thinking about everything under the sun.
Thinking about the fact that my daughter is turning 2 this Tuesday. Thinking about my brother coming into town, it’s been too long since we’ve seen him and everybody in our house is looking forward to his visit. But, there’s this little thing hanging over our head, and that’s the guest room. It’s been the dumping ground since the weekend we moved in, and we haven’t touched it. We were supposed to get to that last weekend, but the toddler bed wake up calls at 5 am got in our way. We’ll have to get to that tonight. I reminded myself to email him our new address, and find out what time he’s coming in. I thought about our weekend: an awesome Olympic party tomorrow night, Slade’s baby shower on Saturday, Zoe’s birthday party on Sunday. I’ve done nothing for her party. Nothing. I need to get to that. Maybe tomorrow morning? It’s just family, so I don’t have to do anything big. I should probably check the bank account. Oh, the bank account…
And so… that’s how my morning went. I didn’t even bother to stay in bed after Brad left for work, I joined Zoe for our morning viewing of Sesame Street and finger prick. My finger prick, not hers.
And that, my friends, is what a portion of pregnancy looks like.
So.. if this post isn’t random enough, can I add some randomness to it? Brad and I watched Toddlers in Tiaras yesterday for the first time. I try to abide by “live and let live” in general… but with this show, I just can’t. Have you ever watched it? Un-freakin’-believable. Here’s my main thing… I don’t care how much “joy” these little girls get from being on stage… but the moms are setting them up for all kinds of eating disorders and insecurities later in life. A 5 year old in a “beauty” contest with fake eyelashes, fake teeth, fake hair, more eye makeup than party girls wear at night… that’s an emotional disaster waiting to happen. And the moms?!??! They should be ashamed of themselves. You know I never say that… but honestly… the damage they’re doing to their children is immeasurable. Actually, the whole system… the judges… the GROWN FREAKING WOMEN who sit there and put check marks by little girls names for their sexy outfits, how well they shook their little tushes, blew kisses, and batted their fake eyelashes. The GROWN WOMEN who judge little girls on their beauty… who line them up and say, “You there, you’re not nearly as pretty in your wig and fake eyelashes as that adorable blonde to your left… maybe next time babe. But, you? You get $500 for being so beautiful at age 3 in your fake eyelashes and bottle of lip gloss”. It’s beyond disgusting.
Please, I beg you, if you watch that show even as a “guilty pleasure” don’t. You’re feeding into the system. The ratings keep the show going. If you need something else to watch, I suggest The Newsroom… it’s amazing.
And with that… Zoe and I are headed to the gym, so she can play and I can read =)
Happy Thursday Ya’ll!
