What was your point again, Season?

Last night I dreamt that it was the middle of the night and Tom and I were in this HUGE argument because he wanted me to see if I could fit in Clara's swing, and I didn't want to (or something really dramatic like that). Finally, after I'd had it "up to here," I stormed away to the living room, hoping to find peace there. Oddly enough, however, once I reached the living room I was confronted by the Lost Boys, who decided to hold me hostage and even had ominous wooden sticks to prove they meant business. The jerks. Luckily for me I'm an adult, and I told 'em so, and well, they couldn't argue much with that and let me go.























About that time Tom showed up again and convinced me to go back to bed. Which, I said, meh—why not, since it was the middle of the night after all. And just as I was starting to fall asleep I woke up. Because Clara was awake.

I had my fair share of nutty dreams when I was pregnant—I guess I thought they'd be gone by now. But if anything they're getting worse.

Like the one from a few weeks ago. When Clara could magically morph herself into inanimate objects, like a 2-liter of soda (the flavor escapes me though). And then after that we were walking home and she transformed into a plastic blow-up rocket toy, and the wind picked up, blew her right out of my arms and started to carry her away and I had to chase after her in a frenzy. (Whoa, can we say run-on?) Yes, I said a plastic blow-up rocket toy. You know, just like one of those blow-up things that you get at a theme park.

No? 

Here. I drew you a picture.

The worst part is that I was calling for someone to help me, but I knew that no one would believe me when I told them the rocket was my daughter. Because how many babies do you know that can morph into a plastic blow-up rocket toy?

I shudder just thinking about it.

I wish I could blame such things on post-labor pain medicine, or something. But nope. Because my name is Season and I've been drug free for weeks now.

So I guess my point is—weird, huh?

Speaking of dreams, I should probably go find out which one awaits me tonight, because is it waaaaay past my newly acquired "motherhood" bed time.

Good night, Neverland.