Randomness rattling about my head, this evening:
When does the dream of a baby become a nightmare? When it's very literally a dream, but in it you still know you just has a c-section 6 weeks ago, and that being pregnant again would be a very bad thing.
If my dreams are going to go around picking on me, shouldn't there at least be fun in them too? I've had dreams where I've cheated on my husband. But do I get face time with Nathan Fillion in them? Nope. Just guilt.
I know dreams are trying to tell us something. I just wish my sub-conscious weren't quite so cryptic. Or mean.
The lady who threaded my eyebrows today wasn't cryptic. "Would you like me to clean up your lip?" she asked. My lip? I'm not exactly a hairy woman. I'm pretty light on the body fuzz and hadn't really noticed an issue there, but was suddenly worried. "Do I need it?" I asked. She just nodded sadly. I told my husband about it and his reaction was, "You have a mustache?" Um, not anymore!
Liam keeps growing. Unfortunately, his hemoglobin is low, so I have to keep forcing these awful vitamin drops into him. He doesn't like them, and he smells funny after taking them. But iron is vital, so I've become religious about them.
I've been doing well with working out and curbing my eating habits. Now to watch the numbers on the scale go down. Please go down, numbers. Please?
Giveaway post coming next week. In the meantime I'm hoping for a few nights of better sleep. Oh, and Lughnasadh!