I Dream of Weenie
My doctor's appointment was moved up, and it's today. I called in to ask whether I should keep taking my PCOS medication, and they decided I should come in earlier. I have to drive to his other office out of town, but it's only about 25 minutes away. The best part is that I'll be leaving work at noon today.
It's gonna suck if they can't do an ultrasound, but I hear they may not do one because it's so early. I just want to see the little speck and hear someone say, "Yep, there it is."
Last night's dream was stressful again. Someone broke into a bunch of cars in the Wal-Mart parking lot, including mine, but I didn't realize I'd been robbed until I was inside of the car, because they had opened the doors on the passenger side. The dream goes downhill from there and I spend the rest of it running from a psycho who has decided he's in love with me. I end up hiding out on a forgotten top floor of a 3 or 4 story house that belonged to my friends. I was hiding out with Pookie, and for some reason I was smoking cigarettes. Pookie slept on top of me all night last night, and woke up periodically to suck his paw loudly and make biscuits, so maybe I was aware of his presence and that's why he appeared as my hideout companion. It'll be interesting to see at what point my dreams begin to include a baby. Probably just shortly before the point at which I cease to sleep at all, huh?
Did I tell you about my freakish friend who had the dream about me having a little girl? This was before I was pregnant, and my friend didn't even know we were trying. She had a dream that I had a 2 year old girl. My brother-in-law and his sister (the girl we went on the cruise with) both had similar dreams, and even though they did probably know we were interested in having a baby, they announced these dreams before I was pregnant.
I told my first friend to go back to sleep and make it a boy. I know I'm supposed to say, "Oh, we just want a healthy baby. We don't care if it's a girl or a boy as long as it's happy and healthy." Those people are full of shit, umkay? Everyone has a preference, whether they admit it or not. This is my blog and my kid's never gonna read it, so I'm gonna put this out there.
I have always wanted a little boy-- ALWAYS. I don't feel I'm properly qualified to raise a girl. What can I do for a girl? I mean besides teach her to hit a softball or cuss out insurance companies over the phone? My hair has looked the same for years, I can't remember the last time I wore a dress, and I didn't figure out how to wear makeup until I was about 22 years old-- and even now sometimes it feels foreign to me. My living room needs to be filled with GI Joe and plastic hammers-- not Barbies. I've always hated that crap. My all time best Christmas gift was a construction set that allowed me to "screw" the pieces together. I didn't even know how to be a little girl when I WAS one. How can I raise one?
I know that most of my, shall we say, preference for construction sets over dolls is a direct result of the fact that my dad refused to let me BE a little girl. He strongly encouraged me to keep my hair short. If it got past my shoulders he made insulting comments about it. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup until I was 16, and by that point everyone else had been wearing it for 3 or 4 years and I wasn't able to go through that ridiculous experimenting phase with my peers. At that point I didn't wear it because I didn't know HOW to wear it and was afraid that I'd look stupid if I tried. This didn't change until my early 20's. I wasn't allowed to have Barbies because my dad thought it created inappropriate expectations of women and made little girls feel inadequate. He tried to force me to love golf, but thank God I didn't take to it. He taught me how to throw a spiral, catch a pop fly, hit a homerun, drive a stick, throw from the home plate to second base, steer a canoe, bait a hook, encouraged me to be tough-- don't cry, just be tough, and basically made a tomboy out of me.
It's a miracle I'm not sitting in a coffee shop somewhere wearing a rainbow t-shirt, thinking about how sexy the waitress is, and plotting how I'm going to get the softball coach position at the local junior college.
This is going to be a significant source of anxiety for me until we find out. If it is a girl I'll be perfectly happy, of course. But scared. Y'all think BLUE, okay?
It's gonna suck if they can't do an ultrasound, but I hear they may not do one because it's so early. I just want to see the little speck and hear someone say, "Yep, there it is."
Last night's dream was stressful again. Someone broke into a bunch of cars in the Wal-Mart parking lot, including mine, but I didn't realize I'd been robbed until I was inside of the car, because they had opened the doors on the passenger side. The dream goes downhill from there and I spend the rest of it running from a psycho who has decided he's in love with me. I end up hiding out on a forgotten top floor of a 3 or 4 story house that belonged to my friends. I was hiding out with Pookie, and for some reason I was smoking cigarettes. Pookie slept on top of me all night last night, and woke up periodically to suck his paw loudly and make biscuits, so maybe I was aware of his presence and that's why he appeared as my hideout companion. It'll be interesting to see at what point my dreams begin to include a baby. Probably just shortly before the point at which I cease to sleep at all, huh?
Did I tell you about my freakish friend who had the dream about me having a little girl? This was before I was pregnant, and my friend didn't even know we were trying. She had a dream that I had a 2 year old girl. My brother-in-law and his sister (the girl we went on the cruise with) both had similar dreams, and even though they did probably know we were interested in having a baby, they announced these dreams before I was pregnant.
I told my first friend to go back to sleep and make it a boy. I know I'm supposed to say, "Oh, we just want a healthy baby. We don't care if it's a girl or a boy as long as it's happy and healthy." Those people are full of shit, umkay? Everyone has a preference, whether they admit it or not. This is my blog and my kid's never gonna read it, so I'm gonna put this out there.
I have always wanted a little boy-- ALWAYS. I don't feel I'm properly qualified to raise a girl. What can I do for a girl? I mean besides teach her to hit a softball or cuss out insurance companies over the phone? My hair has looked the same for years, I can't remember the last time I wore a dress, and I didn't figure out how to wear makeup until I was about 22 years old-- and even now sometimes it feels foreign to me. My living room needs to be filled with GI Joe and plastic hammers-- not Barbies. I've always hated that crap. My all time best Christmas gift was a construction set that allowed me to "screw" the pieces together. I didn't even know how to be a little girl when I WAS one. How can I raise one?
I know that most of my, shall we say, preference for construction sets over dolls is a direct result of the fact that my dad refused to let me BE a little girl. He strongly encouraged me to keep my hair short. If it got past my shoulders he made insulting comments about it. I wasn't allowed to wear makeup until I was 16, and by that point everyone else had been wearing it for 3 or 4 years and I wasn't able to go through that ridiculous experimenting phase with my peers. At that point I didn't wear it because I didn't know HOW to wear it and was afraid that I'd look stupid if I tried. This didn't change until my early 20's. I wasn't allowed to have Barbies because my dad thought it created inappropriate expectations of women and made little girls feel inadequate. He tried to force me to love golf, but thank God I didn't take to it. He taught me how to throw a spiral, catch a pop fly, hit a homerun, drive a stick, throw from the home plate to second base, steer a canoe, bait a hook, encouraged me to be tough-- don't cry, just be tough, and basically made a tomboy out of me.
It's a miracle I'm not sitting in a coffee shop somewhere wearing a rainbow t-shirt, thinking about how sexy the waitress is, and plotting how I'm going to get the softball coach position at the local junior college.
This is going to be a significant source of anxiety for me until we find out. If it is a girl I'll be perfectly happy, of course. But scared. Y'all think BLUE, okay?
Pookie?
I KNEW this was a cat blog!
Posted by
Hillbilly Mom |
8:40 PM