June 30, 2010

Sweet Dreams Are Not Made of This

{Photo by: HDR}

It's pretty well known, at least among pregnant women and women who talk to those women, that pregnancy can make your dreams pretty bonkers. I began looking into this a bit, because I love dreaming and especially love when I can remember them. It's such a nice break from reality. In my research I started to come across a few things that said dreams about ex-boyfriends or flings or just crushes can become super frequent towards the end of the 2nd trimester and even more so during the 3rd.

I asked my go-to pregnancy posse about this and most of them confirmed that it's not just dreams with those guys (or girls) in them, but they are like hot, steamy, way-better-than-it-ever-was-in-real-life kind of dreams. So I was like - bring it! I have, for the most part, good relationships with all the guys I've dated and I was interested to see where the old subconscious would take it.

I'm wrapping up my 2nd trimester here and low and behold, my dreams start getting more vivid and memorable and bang! my nights are visited by ghosts of dating past. Here are some of the juicy details (names omitted to protect the innocent, of course) -

I'm sitting in a life guard stand at the beach on a fall evening, wrapped in my date's hoodie to keep away the evening chill. I break my gaze from the full moon's reflection on the water to look into my guy's eyes...which are full of tears. I realize he's crying and explaining why in two weeks I'm going to tell him it's not working out because of our age difference, but in reality he knows it's because he's overbearing and he makes me feel like the oxygen has been cut off to the room whenever we're alone - but not in a good way. WHAT? The man speaks the truth, but where's the hotness??

I've had two more since that one, involving two different guys and both have been my brain just rehashing the crappy stuff from real life. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not like starved for passion or anything. I was just really curious to see what residual stuff was still lurking in the crevices of my psyche. I mean, I'm pretty practical and pragmatic in my day to day, don't I deserve to enjoy a bit of torrid dreaminess?

Please brain, spare me from the next time I have to sit with the dream version of an ex and write a list of the reasons why it would have never worked between us. I'd just as soon lose that dream to the night and not wake with the memory.
June 11, 2010

Welcome to Boy-ville

{Make of this what you will.}

Last week my husband and I found out that our first child will officially be a boy. He began celebratory dancing immediately and even now will occasionally break into an impromptu song directed at "his baby boy" in my belly. For me, however, the news took a moment to settle in. It's not that I was disappointed that I was carrying a male child, although I did need a moment to kiss all those cute little dresses and hair bows goodbye. It was more that I was stunned. This whole time I had been 100% positive it was a girl. I don't think I gave more than a fleeting thought to the fact that it could actually, in fact, be a boy. Silly, I realize, since there was a 50/50 chance, but true none the less.

Now that I've had some time to think about it, it's really kind of strange that girl was my default assumption. When I was in high school and college I mostly hung out with the guys. I like Sci-Fi, collecting vinyl records, watching Star Wars and reading comics. Not that these are strictly dude activities, but they aren't considered 'girly.' On the other hand, I love fashion and make-up and shoe shopping (again, not strictly for girls, but you get my drift). Clearly if he's arty, nerdy or gay we'll get along swimmingly.

So now I feel good and I'm really excited to meet the little guy. I have day dreams of outnumbering H and getting to watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy again and again. And I feel super stoked that I don't have to explain why Barbie isn't an appropriate female role model or deal with a Disney Princess phase. Of course, if he wants to dress up like Cinderella, far be it from me to stop him.

But what if he's sporty? Baseball is about as far as I go in the realm of sportsdom. But I can always learn the rules of whatever sport he's into, so I don't cheer at the wrong time while I'm sitting in the stands. Then I'll make sure he practices his piano when he gets home at night. Because well rounded is really the goal, right?

The more I think about it, raising compassionate, emotionally balanced boys is just as important as raising strong, independent girls and I'm happy to take on the task, no matter what his interests are. Now if he one day declares himself a republican, that's a whole different ballgame.