After almost two years, I have started dreaming again. I have these short, vivid dreams just about every time I lose consiousness for more than ten minutes in a row. They are, for the most part, not happy or overly pleasant either. It’s almost a case for going back on the ambien. At least then I didn’t remember dreaming. I hear that I can rob a bank on ambien and not remember that either so that’s kind of fun.
I don’t know if it’s the addition of my nocturnal fantasy life or what but I’m in a funk. I shouldn’t be. I have no real right to be but I’m in a funk.
Sunday is Stephen’s birthday. He would have been 34.
Yesterday was almost 60 degrees. I try not to talk about the weather but we got outside, played with chalks, rode bikes, walked the dog (or the dog walked me, I’m not sure) and had our afternoon snack on the front step. Today? We are planning for a snow storm. Argh. As much as I don’t like heat (comes with the Big Boobs McGee territory), I’m starting to think that winter is just not for me.
Water Aerobics is going well. Too well. I’m finding myself cruising the interwebz for water aerobic shoes and gloves. I didn’t go today so I could let my forearms and thighs rest (that sounds dirty but it isn’t) and now I feel like a lump of…butter? No, that’s not right. Frosting? Melted Cheese? Mmmm…melted cheese…. Anyway, I’m down about 5 pounds in the almost 3 weeks that I’ve been in the water. Not too shabby considering I’m always freaking hungry. What’s that all about? It’s not that intense. What is it about the water that makes me want to eat everything in sight?
I have baby lust. Big. Time.
Ella is over the sickies and back to normal. We are working on manners. Big time. Amelia is naughty. I almost committed a felony the other night when I caught her with a (washable) marker, drawing all over the sheets and pillows two hours after I changed them. And fifteen minutes before bed. We really need to be outside more. Much like the dog, everyone does better with a little fresh air and exercise.
The urge to date comes and goes. It all boils down to the thought that I really just want someone to give a shit.
About me. And only me. For, like, ten uninterrupted minutes.
I am also struggling with feeling jilted. Short stick. Screwed. Whatever.
I shouldn’t. I have so, so many things going right. More so than they have a right to be. We were talking tonight at church about greed (among other undesirable traits). I decided about a minute in that this was my vice. Greed. I feel screwed therefore I have a huge sense of entitlement. I don’t “love thy neighbor” because life screwed me and not him. I don’t give as freely as I could/should because so much has already been taken from me.
Kind of ironic, really, that I have chosen to spend my mornings in the water when it is the rest of day that makes me feel like I’m drowning.