(Ain't Nothin' Going to Keep Me Down)
Every so often my psyche likes to give me a good bitchslap to remind me who is really in charge. This time it was via a dream, a pre-menstrual crazy-ass dream.
See, I've recently been thinking I'm okay with this only one kid thing. That despite our life being pretty good how it is, that there are days I want to take LO and give her to the gypsies along with a whole pile of money to make sure they'll keep her (you know, when she's being exceptionally good at being two) and I can't imagine wrangling a second child when one makes me want to scoop out my brains and start singing "la la la I don't care" on a regular basis. (side note: I'm so not looking forward to the tween/teen years if we are already needing DH to mediate)
DH had a dream a while back that I told him I was pregnant and he whacked my mother across the face with a cookie sheet (or was it a frying pan?) for telling him he wasn't acting excited enough. He's not an exceptionally big fan of adding to the family right now either. That said, we're not exactly preventing, if counting on being infertile is our birth control plan, you know?
So the point being, I had one of those dreams Saturday night / Sunday morning. The ones where you dream about peeing on a stick (in the dream I pulled one out of my MIL's purse - now there's an interesting side note, yes?) with a positive result. And then through some miracle of dream-enhanced science we were able to know from some bloodwork (maybe, this part is a little fuzzy) that we were going to have a boy.
Thanks a bunch psyche! Maybe I'm not as okay with having just one as I thought. Ah well, Shark Week is due to start soon & that should put an end to it, at least for now.
Addition: Shark week started a day early...of course! A dream like that really is too good to even let me think it might possibly come true, right?!?!