Dream Journal 1/7/16

Past (?).

I sat in the back of a large van, filled with young adults, similar in age to myself. I looked to be just a few years younger, maybe 18 or 19. There were three guys, and two other girls, making six of us, plus the driver. The driver was an older, balding man, who looked eerily similar to Red Foreman from That 70’s Show.

We were complaining about being hungry, so the driver pulled up to a large, Victorian-looking building, and informed us it used to be his favorite restaurant in the area. We climbed out of the van and rush inside.

The inside was awful. The wall paper was peeling off of the walls, and the floor made wet, squishy noises beneath our feet. It looked as though the building had gone through a hurricane recently, and no one bothered to clean anything up before re-opening. The building was empty, but the tables and chairs were set up as through expecting crowds of people, and the lighting was bright and new.

A man rushed out from the kitchen to greet us. He was tall, with thinning, blond hair, and was wearing a hideous, baby blue suit. He shook the driver’s hand and guided us to a large table in the middle of the room. He took our orders without writing anything down (I ordered mushroom risotto, even though I don’t care for mushrooms), and hurried back to the kitchen.

The carpeting was so soaked, that it was hard to push our chairs in and out from the table, and there was at least a quarter inch of standing water in the room, which was soaking our feet and pants. No one really seemed to notice.

One of the girls started complaining about how the building smelled like a sewer filled with dead rats, and we all seemed to agree.

An hour passed, and we still had not been brought our drinks, nor had we seen the owner, or any other staff. The building was still empty, and no one new had come in. We stood up as a group and marched angrily to the kitchen doors to speak to the owner. When we opened the door, we saw that the kitchen was small. Very, very small. And it was in a closet. Along with this tiny, apartment-sized kitchen, there was also a very naked woman wearing nothing but a chef’s hat, and the owner, who was having sex with her, on top of the tiny stove, which was definitely on.

We stared at them in disbelief, and they didn’t even acknowledge that we had opened the doors. Nope. They just kept on doin’ it. We quickly backed out and waited outside the door, embarrassed, until they emerged from the closet kitchen… several minutes later. Still naked.

The owner, smiling, offered to give us our meals for free, but we wanted to leave. I don’t know why we didn’t just walk out, as we hadn’t received anything we would have had to pay for anyway. We all shouted angrily at the very naked owner and his very naked chef, until they told us to leave. Which we did.

As we were walking out, I started writing a very bad review on the restaurant’s Facebook page, which was filled with other reviews, all very positive. We got back into the van and drove off. We didn’t even turn our heads to witness the building bursting into cartoon-like flames behind us, and crumbling to the ground. Minutes later, there was a news report on the radio about the fire, and they cited the source of the fire as a pair of panties left on a stove top. Ha.

We were all still hungry, so we decided to stop at a local blood drive, and steal all of the cookies. We were on our way to the blood drive to steal their delicious cooking…

And then I woke up.

Frustrations and Acceptance

Ever since my little guy was born, everyone has told me how lucky I am. He usually sleeps through the night, only waking up once, or sometimes not at all, to feed at an ungodly hour. Heck, there’s been times when I wake up at 7:30 and think, “Wow, we just slept like normal people?!” LT also never really fusses, unless he is hungry (or WAY tired), but a quick bottle calms him quickly. He is also a pretty good self-soother, and can calm himself if I take too long to notice that he needs something. He’s an easy-going baby, loves meeting and playing with new people, and lets complete strangers hold him (not STRANGERS, they’re family/friends), and when people tell me I’m lucky, it makes me feel good. But some days, I don’t feel lucky. At all. Some days I feel like a terrible mother and a failure. If LT doesn’t nap for longer than 30 minutes at a time during the day, or fusses for nearly an hour without me being able to comfort him, I get frustrated. I blame myself for not making him comfortable enough, or if he spits up after eating, or for not knowing how to soothe him (after cycling through the usual suspects of hunger, wet diaper, too hot/cold, etc.), or for not being a freaking mind reader. HOW DARE I NOT BE A MIND READER! But after over two months of this mom business, I’ve realized that not only do I have it pretty easy, but I’m not a bad mom for not being able to stop his crying.

News flash: BABIES CRY. Sometimes, for no real reason. They just want to cry. It’s true. I’ve learned to accept this and also accept the fact that there are other parents out there who have it WAY worse. People with twins on different sleep schedules, or colicky babies, or babies with allergies… I am lucky. With LT, everything has been smooth, for the most part. Breastfeeding was a complete nightmare, but once we accepted that formula (although not as ideal for them) is a great alternative, I was okay. Sometimes it still stings that I can’t give my baby breast milk… but he has a full tummy and is growing perfectly. That’s all the matters, right? Other things were much easier for us though. The very first bottles we ever used with him (Avent), he liked. The first formula we tried, he wasn’t allergic to/didn’t make him gassy. Pacifiers, on the other hand, have been a bit trickier, but all-in-all, it’s been a breeze… and a money saver.

It can be hard, especially for an inexperienced, new mom to hear their baby cry. Hell, there’s been a few times when I just couldn’t figure out what he wanted, and it made ME cry. I never grew up around babies. Never had friends with small siblings or babies. Even now, I only know a few people with young ones, and of course, none of them live ANYWHERE near me. This whole baby thing is SUPER new to me. I have a great support system though, and loads of cool moms on Facebook and Twitter who are willing to toss advice my way, despite the fact that I’m really stubborn when it comes to accepting help. Always have been. I also secretly scour the internet, reading sites like babycenter.com to answer questions I may have. Seriously, that site is amazing. I started reading the day I found out I was pregnant, and I use it nearly every day to answer random baby questions, like how much formula your baby is supposed to get in  day (apparently it’s 2.5 ounces for every pound they weigh), and to track the different milestones babies reach as they grow.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, even though it’s annoying when people tell you that it’s okay to make mistakes when parenting, and that no one is perfect, it is also TRUE. We all want to be perfect. We are all secretly competing with other moms to be the best (don’t lie to yourself, you know you do it). But as long as you love your baby and try your best to keep them happy, then YOU ARE A GOOD MOM. YES. YOU. YOU ARE A GREAT MOM! I know it doesn’t always feel like it, and that you get frustrated… but to this tiny human, you are their whole world. You feed them when they are hungry, you change their diaper when they are wet/poopy, you hold them and make them feel safe and warm and comforted. You are a rock star to your kid(s). A freaking super hero. I try not to forget this, and I hope you remember it as well.

Rock on, super moms!

J