Last night I had an illicit dream.
About ice cream.
Apparently, my subconscious wants a giant mug of ice cream with all of the add-ins, swirls, and goopy goodness. The best part? My older sister was in the grocer’s freezer section with me (I never call it that, the grocer’s freezer, by the way- I think that’s commercial lingo finding its way into my vernacular) and SHE was the one who was all like- Diabetes? COME ON. You have less than a week. Have some cookies n’ cream. (Which is totally weird, because she knows my favorite flavor is coconut. Or strawberry. Or something with mango.)
And you know what? I caved. It was great.
Also great is the apparent trend towards, fluffy, inconsequential “anxiety” dreams. I’d tell you the roundup of the past weeks’ dreams and nightmares, but I guarantee you’d never want children ever ever ever because of the distinct possibility that these scenarios could occur OR for the very real chance that you’d have some of these dreams. I’m not sure which would be worse. (The scenarios for sure. Or maybe the dreams. THEY WERE SO REAL.)
So yeah, ice cream.
And yesterday was my very last prenatal visit for at least a couple of years- or so- ballpark- and I can’t say I wasn’t stoked to know this. My favorite moment came early on in the appointment when I had to do the mandatory ‘pee in the cup’ thing. (Nurse: The patient is here, Doctor. Doctor: Excellent, have her pee in a cup. Nurse: Why? Doctor: Oh, just to make sure she still can. Aim is a funny, funny thing.) And Nora always comes into the bathroom with me- because we are best friends. (Except my best friend hates the sound of the power hand dryer- HATES- which sometimes forces me to wipe my hands on wadded-up and quickly disintegrating toilet paper, which has the dual hilarious function of allowing other people to wonder if I’ve washed my hands at ALL since they haven’t heard the dryer…which I HAVE, thankyouverymuch.)
Except yesterday, Nora was really interested in the whole peeing process and [loudly] announced- Mommy goes potty in the cup!
And then the kicker- Oh MOMMY, you DID it!!!
She was so proud of me. (Frankly, I was too.) But the real joy came when I walked back through the office and past all of the hysterically laughing nurses.
We celebrated (the end of the pregnancy, not the peeing) by getting a pumpkin “cupcake” and going to the Disney store to play/get a present for the baby/hoard all of the Donald Ducks.
It’s a very old and respected ritual.
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