crazydiamondsue | Pregnant Dreams and Stranger Things

The Lizard Brain Speaks
It's not fair. It's not fair that my mom died when I was 25 and that I don't have a mom to call and say, "My pee's chartreuse. Is that normal?" It's not fair that my mom will never get to be a grandma, and it's not fair that my kid won't ever get to have her fried chicken or maybe know where they got their green eyes from or their ability in math.

It's not fair that my Mom's death decimated my already shaky family. It's not fair that my dad is an alcoholic and that he was pretty verbally and emotionally and at rare times, physically, abusive to my brother and me. It's not fair that we still love him. It's not fair that my brother can hang with my dad, or with me, but not the three of us all together, because it makes it so obvious that my mother is gone.

It's not fair that I'm pregnant and don't have a family when I have so many friends that take theirs for granted. It's not fair that as much as I've tried to make my friends my family, I want one where there are generational differences and people that have known me since I was in diapers and love me anyway. It's not fucking fair.

My Rational Brain
So Caza and I went to my hometown (Porum, Oklahoma, Population 800 - Salute!) to have lunch with my Dad and my brother to celebrate the shocking creation of a new family-member-to-be. If you're curious as to what Porum is like, those of you in SPN fandom need only picture that one-horse town from whence RPS writers describe Jared Padalecki originating. Although instead of being the second largest city in Texas with a population of 1.3 million, it's an actual one-horse town where half the buildings have recently been condemned and torn down (to avoid meth labs) or torched for insurance. When I was little, it was populated by quaint Malt Shoppes and my dad's miniature golf course and Mercantiles with sweet little old ladies behind glass counters who let me window shop for hours in the doll section and gave me those giant all day suckers when I left.

So, long story shorter, Dad and Caza go through their typical ritual:
DAD: Son, when you gonna stop teaching Spanish to regular folk, and start teaching English all these Mexicans?
EDDIE: *sigh* How's it going, Bob? And I don't teach Spanish all that much anymore, I'm the boss now.
DAD: (Grinning) The laziest ones always are.

Note: The above conversation was held in total respect and affection. Really.

We head into the den, which is as illuminated as the Bat Cave. The TV is turned up to 11 and Dad is watching Dave Chappelle on "Inside the Actors Studio." I know. I was surprised, too. Dad tells us to sit and asks how the weather was, and then settles back comfortably to continue watching Dave Chappelle. I fidget irritably because it's freaking dark in here and I've seen this episode of "Inside the Actors Studio."

My brother, Scott, shows up a few minutes later (he lives about 45 minutes away) and is as stiff and uncommunicative as he always is around Dad (which was odd, because Dad was on his best behavior.) I try to force communication with Scott and give up at a knock at the door. One of Scott's best friends from high school (in town for a funeral) has arrived to see if Scott wants to run an errand with him. Which is odd, because Scott doesn't live with Dad and you wouldn't think the friend would have expected to find him there, right? I'm sensing that the 21st century has come to Porum and there were cell phones at work.

Scott nods and says he has "all day" to hang with Dad and me and is out the door before I can even tell the friend (whom I haven't seen since 1988) hello. Caza, Dad and I stare at each other for a few minutes and then I hurriedly suggest lunch (it was a diversion, true, but I was also freakin' hungry - I hadn't had second breakfast.) So Dad treats us to lunch at Charlie's Fried Chicken Buffet (trust me, when I open franchises all over the country, you won't laugh. You'll beg for my blackbery cobbler and gizzards.) Dad grunts throughout lunch as I try to talk up the baby, school, work, Caza, OU, the Democrats, etc, to no avail.

In a last-ditch effort, I suggest stopping to visit my favorite paternal cousin's family and, once there, though I have to suffer through tasteless Obama jokes (made by my father, a yellow-dog Democrat who voted for Obama) and more questions as to why Caza would teach Spanish when "so many Mexicans already speak it," I do get some of the extended family love I was needing with reminisces of my childhood, high school and, best of all, of my Mom.

We dropped Dad back at his house and discovered my brother there, reading in the dark. (My family is so weird. You're terribly impressed with my relative normalcy now, aren't you?) He grunts at me and I said, "You missed lunch." And then Caza and I drove home.

The thing that really pisses me off is that my brother doesn't act that way around me when we're not in Porum. Anywhere else, he's a functioning, above average intelligence member of society. With a sense of humor and coping skills. Dad didn't act any differently than I anticipated, although he's not as obviously excited about the baby as I thought he'd be. But maybe he's worried that I'll miscarry, or maybe I just "waited too long" and he's given up on grandchildren.

In the end, though, I got to hear that I look like my Mom (which I don't, really, but it's nice to hear) and have blackberry cobbler and homemade yeast rolls. So not a total loss as far as Sunday afternoons go.

But it's still not fair.

With an Egg Beater and a Live Chicken, and Some Peach Preserves!
I promised

lunabee34 that I would expound on the the pregnancy sex dreams, or more to the point, the "waking up mid-orgasm dreams." I had read that these could occur in the third trimester, but I've always been a goer and was waking up at 4:30 a.m. with a gasp on my lips and Jared Padalecki images floating above my head as early as 9 weeks.

The best dreams where the ones where I had ex-friend and ex-lover Crazy-But-Hot-Melanie tied up next to a pool and kept dressing her in endless supply of white bikinis (my Lizard Brain is evidently a fourteen-year-old straight boy) and the one where

adis723 and I worked in Jared Padalecki's Mom's bakery (she's actually an English teacher, I believe) and I woke up mid-orgasm from dreaming that I took a huge bite of cake and Jared grinned and winked at me.

I CAN COME FROM IMAGINARY CAKE AND PADALECKI WINKS. I rule all!

Last night I dreamed that I had to go back to high school (at 37) because I didn't turn in my English final. So naturally, I tried out for the cheerleading squad. And made it. While at cheer camp, I was watching the Real World (or something) with my roommate where a gay cast member blew a straight cast member. This dream roommate freaked out and said that would never happen and I said nay and explained about flexible sexuality and the "I Want a Blow-Job" male modus operandi and how easily it can trump the identity of the giver. The fictional roommate said it was "so gay" and "blowjobs are gross!" and I smirked and told her it was something that she'd understand when she was older and wiser, as I was.

When I woke up I laughed and thought, that's it, the sum total of my education, life experience and higher thought from 18 to 37 can be summed up with:
HUMMERS ARE AWESOME, NO MATTER WHERE THEY COME FROM.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

These are my friends Kyan, Jen, Tucker and Maverick. Kyan is the little one in the Nemo pajamas. Jen is the hottie teaching her son the Mexican Hat Dance (it was Cinco De Mayo), Tucker is the white fluffy one and Maverick is the champagne colored one.

Jen and Cherie's son, Kyan, has known Caza and me since he was a year-old and arrived from Guatemala to his new home with his Nonna and Mama. He used to call me Su-Su (as in, "No, no, Su-Su! These are MY fruit snacks!") and always referred to Caza by his real name, Eddie.

In recent months, Kyan has decided that I'm also Eddie. It's like we're Thing 1 and Thing 2, only with Eddie. So last night, as I'm lying on the couch in Jen & Cherie's den and Jen is moving the doppler over my stomach to find the baby's heartbeat, I have Jen and Eddie crouched next to me, both trying to manipulate the doppler, Kyan squeezing between the two of them to see what's going on and Maverick crawling up my legs because he's worried about me.

All the while Cherie is hovering above, asking me if I feel okay, and my britches are pulled down to my bikini line. Oh, and the television is blaring Cars. Ka-chow!

We finally manage to hear the baby's heartbeat, and I look at Caza, all ready for emotional outpouring, and Maverick scratches at my hip and whines, Kyan all but crawls into my lap asking frantically, "Is Eddie okay? Is Eddie all better?" and Jen crows, "There's your baby! No, no, Kyan, that's Su-Su! Get off Su-Su's tummy!"

We all agreed the best moment is going to come when Kyan actually remembers what Jen & Cherie keep telling him is "in my tummy" and goes around telling everyone we know: "Eddie has a baby in her tummy!"

ETA: I totally forgot the part where I called Jen earlier in the day to ask if she had KY. There was dead silence and then she said: "Oh! For the doppler!" And I said, "No, for the big 'pregnant-bi-lesbian-geeky straight man' orgy I have planned later...of course for the doppler!"

Current Mood: contemplative

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It isn't fair. *hugs*

(I am sure I will be doing similar posts when Sofy and I start a family, because while my mother is alive, she will not be allowed within a hundred miles of a baby of mine, and that's not fair, either.)

because while my mother is alive, she will not be allowed within a hundred miles of a baby of mine, and that's not fair, either It's seriously unfair. One thing that's really been great about LJ (and the greatness here is going to sound relative) is that I've met so many other people who have either lost their parents at an early age or have painful relationships with them. While it's not fair for any of us, there's strength in numbers, you know? (And I'll be right there for your posts when the day comes.)

*hugs you so, so much* It isn't fair. And really, your brother is being a dick. This was not about him, thanks so very much, and he needs a blistering email reminding him that there are times when you suck it up and deal.

Your dad remains. Odd.

Hey, your dreams sound good.

CARS. Sorry. Distracted. And cute puppies! Also, Jen's I'm-not-thinking-about-that-but-seriously-whoa. Good picture.

*hugs you so hard back* And you are one of my friends who totally gets it, you know? It sucks out loud. But at least I have good friends.

I don't know what has crawled up my brother's ass, but this is just...wrong. He's loved kids the whole time I've known him, and I realize I'm not showing yet and the baby is figurative at this point, but jeez, a hug would have been nice.

CARS! I think Kyan and I have watched it together dozens of times. Puppies! They had gone to the vet and were very loving. *squishes you*

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Pregnant Dreams and Stranger Things

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