I’ve been having racy dreams lately about Joe from Blue’s Clues. Like Summer Fling-type dreams. When you know you’re never going to see this person again, so it’s especially wonderful and decadent.
The last one ended badly, though. I was running down a hill after being all doe-eyed at Joe (whose name was either Patrick or Thomas, my subconscious couldn’t decide), and I had to fish Helen out of a pond. Scared the shit out of me. Woke me up, too, but the image of her there is still nagging at me.
I don’t like it when I have nightmares about things happening to my children. It brings the realization that I am responsible for these little people right to the forefront of my mind, and that’s at times terrifying. Especially when I’m not functioning at even a reasonable percentage of my usual strength.
I’m tired of hurting. It’s been a week, and only today am I able to sit upright for more than a minute or two. Last night I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night for more painkillers — a first. I want to be able to help Jerry around the house more, because I know he’s going crazy from trying to be Mommy and Daddy at the same time. And the girls miss me. And I miss them. As crazy as they can make me, they bring immeasurable joy to my life. I love it when Helen says, “Mommy, let’s snuggle,” and then nuzzles up against me. And when Alice sees me after I’ve been out of the room for a few minutes and she squeals, “Hiiiiiii!” Precious.
I love these little creatures, even if the nightmares I have now are at a greater intensity than they EVER were when they were just about me.