Some days, I feel like I have a pretty good handle on this mommy, firewife and teacher thing.
|The world is my biotch - Hear me RAWR!|
Other days, I'm not so sure I could find my hiney with both hands.
|Wait, I left my kid where?|
Lately, I've had a few more of the frazzled variety than the supermom kind.
Good for y'all, bad for me.
So, as I mentioned earlier this week, I found out that The Bun has an egg allergy that also extends to chicken. Combine that with a few other things that have been going on and The Firefighter having been MIA for practically the last two weeks, I've been left feeling rather overwhelmed. The kinda overwhelmed that makes you wanna rip off all your clothes and run around naked outside while clucking like a chicken, hoping that someone calls the police just so you can get a little peace and quiet in the nut house. Not that I know from experience or anything....
But that overwhelmed feeling has recently infiltrated my dreams, giving me some rather vivid "nightmares" that I will now share for your amusement.
Before bed the other night, I could hear one of Miss Chatterbox's singing thingamajigs going off....but after 15 minutes of searching, I couldn't find the durn thing, so I decided to ignore it and to take my pregnant behind to bed.
I fell into a very fitful sleep that included giant purple and green guinea pigs with bright orange troll hair kidnapping my kids and shoving eggs and strawberries into their mouths. I literally woke up swatting at the little beasts determined to get mah Boo's rifle and blow their brains out. In that moment of waking confusion, when dreams seem real, I heard Miss Chatterbox's thingamajig going off. Thinking it was one of the fudge pecking guinea pigs, I flew out of bed grabbed a metal rod (piece of The Bun's recently dismantled pack and play) and started hunting for the little shit. The sound was mostly coming from the fridge area, so I threw open the fridge door and without a pause....
Began to beat the living bejeesus out of - this.
And in the process flung food everywhere and nearly broke the second shelf of the refrigerator.
Fo' real, Yo! No punk assed guinea pig can mess wit' my kids.
The Bun's scared cry brought me to my senses and O.M.F.G. did I feel like a colossal IDIOT! No, idiot, isn't a strong enough word. I felt like I fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. Seriously. Like I could give any moron on the People of Walmart site a run for their mullets and holey butt crack filling spandex.
I got to thinking about why I've been having vivid nightmares, nearly every night lately. I think the fears I have surrounding this delivery are manifesting themselves in my dreams. Dwelling on it in the daytime isn't the answer. It just makes me short tempered and anxious. I don't exactly trust the medical establishment, given their reaction to my last two deliveries, even though I've spoken to and conferred with both my OB and the most experienced anesthesiologist on the staff, I don't feel any better about it. But I have to go through with it, so no use in actively thinking about it. But, apparently, my psyche has different ideas.
Oh well, just gotta keep putting one foot in front of the other, right?
Happy Thursday and may you win all your battles against imaginary singing purple guinea pig mobsters.