I have been debating all day whether or not to post about this, but my other possible post topics all seemed lame. Not that this one isn't lame, but I can't stop thinking about it, so I figured maybe I should just go with it.
I regret that this is another post without pictures. I hate it when that happens. And in case you were wondering (before I get to the actual post that I intend to be writing)...
1. The conferences were fine. The girls are both doing well in academics and are kind and sweet to their classmates. That is really all that we can ask for.
2. The bags from the girls' rooms are still in the hallway and nothing has changed. Toilets are not flushed, clothes are not put away properly and towels are still balled up on the floor. I am considering running away.
3. Ike is driving me crazy.
4. The children are driving me crazy.
5. Quinn pooped twice tonight in his pull up and then told me he had to go potty. Both times I yanked the pull up off, ready for something really exciting to happen. And it did...both times...poop rolled out onto the floor. The first time I cussed Quinn (in my head). The second time I cussed myself (not really in my head).
Ok, so on to my worst dream ever. When you have children, pretty every dream is acceptable unless it involves something terrible happening to them. I used to having reoccurring nightmares of the girls being stolen in the middle of the night. But last night, ohmygoodness, last night takes the cake as the worst dream ever. Now, keep in mind, its a dream...so it doesn't really have to make sense.
I dreamed that the girls were sick...low grade fever, sore throat, upset stomach. I told my mother this and that I thought it might be strep throat (which is going around right now), and she replied "Well, you know how they get with strep throat. You might as well go ahead and take them to the ER." (For the record, they are fine with strep throat and I haven't had to take them to an ER since they were babies.) So, we took them. And they admitted them. And then Chris and I went out to eat. And when we came back to the hospital, they had both died.
At this point, I woke up. It was almost 1am. I couldn't shake the dream out of my head. I contemplated getting up, blogging about it, getting a drink, going to the bathroom and coming back to bed. But Ike was laying on my feet and if I got up, he would get up too and that is not what I wanted. So I forced myself to think happy thoughts and went back to sleep.
And then I dreamed it again. Only this time, I saw them dying. They were fine one minute and then Casey went into cardiac arrest and died and Chandler was so upset (they were in the same room) that she willed herself to die too.
And then I woke up. It was 3am. I repeated my thoughts and steps from the previous wake up.
And then I dreamed it again. Only this time, in addition to the initial death and the viewing of the death, I added my phone call to my father to tell him the news and a party that we threw at a clubhouse to celebrate the girls' lives.
And then I woke up. It was 5am. I went back to sleep. I slept through the alarm and Chris getting in the shower. When I officially woke up for the day, I was very upset. I couldn't believe this is what I spent my night thinking about. I really wanted to stay home from work, keep the girls out of school and just spend the day with them. But then I thought about how they are (eventually and inevitably) going to get strep again this year and then I really will need to use the sick days...for actual sickness...not just a Mama is sick in the head day.
It bothers me that this dream was like Groundhog Day. Actually, everything about this dream and its many versions bother me.
And now, I am not going to think about it any more. And I am definitely NOT going to dream about it tonight.
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