Talking In Your Sleep

So my friend said to me that I don't keep up with my blog because I'm too concerned with motherhood nowadays.  Just for the record, that is NOT a fact.  The truth of the matter is that I tend to hibernate during the blustery winters in the northeast.  How can I get jazzed up about life when it gets dark around here an hour after I'm done eating breakfast?  Don't get me wrong.  I love it when it's dark during the summer.  That's my favorite time to cause trouble.  But dark at 4pm and minus 85 degrees?  Hit me over the face with a wrench.  So until SSL agrees to relocate with me to a much warmer climate, I have resigned to the fact that I will be putting on about 48 pounds, will grow out my leg hair as extra insurance to keep me warm and I might possibly even develop rickets as a result to the lack of vitamin D.  He doesn't care...

And to finish what my friend said after, that I should write about motherhood...  Uggggggh...  I wouldn't even read a blog like that.  The truth of the matter is this: aside from shitting, puking, crying and sleeping, my little monster doesn't do much.  You want an inner glimpse in this shift of life though?  Here you go...

 

Last night.  Well, actually, 3am this morning.  I'm dreaming about Adam Rodriguez picking me up on his motorcycle.  Even though all of the gossip reports claim that he has a two inch pecker, in my dream, he's packing.  How can I tell?  The jeans that he is wearing to showcase his amazingly plump arse.  Muahaha.  So we ride out of the city and end up on this mysteriously desolate road.  On the side, where the speed limit sign is posted, someone spray painted a happy face over the numbers.  What on earth could that mean?  Adam glanced behind and said

"Hold on, baby."

So I grabbed him tighter.  Ohhhhh Adam.  Later in the dream, when we were done riding.  My dream cut to a new scene (why do dreams do that) and we were laughing and running from a seafood restaurant with a bag full of lobsters that we stole to let free into the ocean.  Behind us, the restaurant staff was in pursuit.  Then, all of a sudden, as we were almost to the docks, the restaurant staff, dressed in chef uniforms and maitre'd suits morphed into a pack of French Bulldogs dressed like jesters.  They barked and wagged their stumpy tails while they ran to catch up with Adam and I.

(Cut to next scene)

I'm giggling, Adam is doing an impersonation of the time when he accidentally came home drunk and walked in on his mother in the shower and telling me about how his childhood dream was to become an acrobat.  I marvel at the odds that I had the same exact childhood dream, which has also found a way to infiltrate my current adulthood dreams.  Things are perfect.  The sun starts to go down, creating what photographers refer to as the 'magic hour' when even the ugliest skin tag of a person looks like a Greek God in the light set off by the angle of the sun.  Adam comes close to me as if he is about to kiss me and while he's doing that, I'm re jogging my memory about the information that I read about him in the tabloids. 

Six feet tall?  *Check
Was once a stockbroker before he became an actor?  *Check
Puerto Rican and Cuban?  *Check
Aries?  OH MY GOD!  That's a horrible match for me!  ARIES?!?!  What was I thinking?!

And that is when it happens.  My new life as a mother moment.  I spring awake to sounds of my kid screaming bloody murder and yelling in gibberish baby talk that makes absolutely no sense to anyone sober.  All I can think of is: Was he having the same dream?!  ...Impossible...

I jump over SSL (because even though I sleep better on the left side of the bed, his beauty sleep is more effective when he sleeps closer to the rising sun) and go over to my kid's bed/crib thing.  I'm expecting to see him up and flailing around since he was yelling so vehemently.  You know what I see?  The little monster is fucking sleeping!  3am!  OF COURSE HE'S SLEEPING AT 3am!  My kid inherited this talking in his sleep hobby from my side of the gene pool and he does it quite often.  He talks, laughs, yells, cries, talks some more, all while he is asleep.  Do you know how insanely crazy it is to look down with bloodshot eyes at a 5 month old having a rational sounding conversation when he is asleep?  I stir him awake just to make sure that he is ok and not having a nightmare and he looks at me with the most angry, groggy eyed face, almost as if to say:

"Mom, what the hell are you doing???  Do you know what time it is?  Are you crazy?  I'm sleeping!  IT'S 3am, WOMAN!!!!"

So there...  A glimpse of motherhood.