Sweet Dreams are Made of These

I want to take the time to write this out before I forget it.

I always seem to forget about my dreams.  I try my hardest to remember every minute detail, but then even the important details seem to slip my mind in time.  It's strange.  Because dreams must come from somewhere I think.  Maybe a subconscious tryst in the brain comes to the forefront when everything else shuts off at bed time.  Or maybe it's just nonsense that I put meaning into because I want it to mean something.  Who knows!!!!!!!!!!!

This dream I had last night was really weird in that most of it seemed like a typical day in life.  We went to breakfast with some friends and their kids and the conversation was completely typical of what would go on all of the other times we have gone to breakfast.  Then the scene changed and I left my family at home after they fell asleep to spend some time with a friend... again nothing atypical from what could conceivably happen on any day.  The shenanigans that ensued while out with this friend were definitely something a weird dream would present, but still believable as something that could happen with this friend (namely her ex-boyfriend was chasing us around with plungers on his hands.. I mean I think.. I know there was something weird and gross in place of his hands hahaha).  Then as my friend parted ways with me to talk to this gross ex-boyfriend, my husband saw me from a park.  As soon as he saw me he bolted up to me and threw me up in the air in the biggest hug I've ever gotten (this is of the weird dream variety.. my husband is never over the top and never emotional or overly affectionate).  He was worried about me because I didn't tell him I was leaving the house when I fell asleep.  But instead of chastising me for where I was, he was just so happy to see me and save me from what he could only imagine had happened to me.

I guess to anyone reading this (probably no one actually but let's just pretend) the description of this dream would seem like something easily forgettable.  So what?  But me, no.  I woke up on my back (I ALWAYS sleep on my side!) with the wind knocked out of me!!  I think this dream came from a realm of my brain that was trying to tell me something because this dream affected me so much.

I know marriage can be like a snake, bending this way and that, shedding layers of skin, all in order to digest whole animals and fit into different spaces.  I know my marriage is definitely just that with all we have been through and all of the changing we both are still going through as young adults.  But sometimes completely normal dreams like these can make you realize how completely weird real life is.

As a child of alcoholic parents, I know a lot about myself.  I've seen a therapist at a young adult age, thanks to my parents as well.  I've learned that from a young age I have only allowed myself to trust myself.  If any kind of a situation stresses me or if I have an emotional response to something, I completely withdraw.  I use myself as a defense mechanism.

In the past, when I completely withdraw, it has caused my husband to immediately make the effort to pull me back in.  He fears that he is the reason why I am unhappy every time I am unhappy; we are both proactively paranoid people.  I've learned to tell him right away if I'm feeling overwhelmed or irritated that it has nothing to do with him, I am simply feeling out of sorts, as I have a habit of being unable to communicate what is going on in my head until I fully understand it and wrap it up internally.  Just telling him right off of the bat that it has nothing to do with him settles him until I can let go and bring him in.

This has worked, obviously to my detriment, for the first almost ten years since we've been in an relationship, and almost 3 years of marriage.  Except this last time it seems as though he is done with the charade.

We are having financial struggles, trying to figure out what our next step will be, if we will take a next step, or if we will continue living in fear of a bounced check until some kind of next step just stumbles upon us.  This brings strife and agony into our relationship.  And this, coupled with the monthly hormones, has caused me in the last week to .. you guessed it.. completely retreat into my own cocoon.

I don't know what it is, maybe he's figured me out, maybe he has his own stressed to draw himself into his own cocoon this time, or any reason, but he has not showed any affection, let alone concern for what is going on with me this time.  I thought this day would one day come and be refreshing.  But when I'm done with this cocoon and just want to break out without further explanation on all of it, he's still out of reach.

Okay I'm even making myself gag about cocoons right now.

Anyway, I'm realizing all of this today and right now AFTER I had last night's dream.  The way he was so concerned for me was so refreshing .. it made me want to scream when I woke up.  And after realizing this was a dream, I congruently immediately realized that I have this extremely childish urge to just make my escape all of the time without any explanation.  Which just makes me so utterly mortified.

It's as though I do this for attention.  As a kid, maybe I leaned on myself and retreated into myself to see if anybody cared.  Maybe if they saw me off alone and saw how hurt I was as a child sitting away from everyone and never opening up to anyone, they would finally see me and see that I needed love and attention more than anything.  Maybe I was constantly testing every one in my childhood life and they all failed.  And I never believed any one would get it.  This of course would all have to be subconsciously.

I found a guy who actually gave me everything I wanted in that moment.  And I continued to shut him out and I feel so ashamed of myself.  Don't get me wrong, we have amazing times, probably about 80% amazing and 20% not so amazing, but there are those times that exist.

I guess it took a dream to make me realize all of that.

Parenting with PMS

We do everything for our children.  Every reaction, every word, every plan itself, is strategically planned. We take pride in the forward thinking we use to walk our children through life soas to help them through every step.  Until, that is, the dreaded time of the month.

I remember growing up and finding my mom on her hands in knees scrubbing the kitchen floor until she cussed at the stains like they were there just to spite her.  Every time I would promptly turn on the tip of my heel and sneak away, knowing that this was a bad time.  No, not just a bad time, THE time.  THE time of the month.

Looking back I remember thinking that my mom used PMS as an excuse to get the thorough cleaning done in the house.  That's why she was so unapproachable, so vacant, so volcanic.  It wasn't until having two three year olds of my own did I understand what my mom could have possibly went through during these squares on the calendar.

Having PMS with kids makes me want to make time freeze.  It's like the world's spinning around me and all I want to do is lie down on my back, my limbs stretched as far away from my body as I can manage, and just wish as hard as I can that my hearing ears would cease and desist.  

I mean can somebody please tell me what it is that makes me unable to function once a month for the last 7?  It's almost as though as my kids get older my hormones get more aggressive in the war against my common sense.  I KNOW I should gently sit my children down and explain to them on the third instance of poop in their underwear this week that they have options when they have to go, and yet my hormones will not allow my facial muscles to move in the mask of a smile.  I KNOW when I'm running late dropping them off that I should still talk to them during the ride over about what they want to do when they get to grandma's, and yet my hormones win the battle by holding my gaze strictly on the road in front of me.   I KNOW I should smile and nod when my mother in law lectures me about pushing them too hard to not wear diapers during the day at the ripe age of 3 years and 7 months because she means well, and yet my hormones do all the talking when I abruptly exclaim "okay kids if you want to keep playing with grandpa you can but I'm leaving in two minutes with or without you".

Ugh.  I hate myself.

Are they getting older or am I getting older?  

The number one goal as a mom, at least in my world, is to be a different mom than your own.  Not that your mom was bad, per say, but as your mom's toughest critic, you seem to know exactly how she could have done things better.  It's weeks like these that make me feel like the mom I never wanted to be.  And soon enough, my sons will be spinning on their heels to avoid me.  Let's hope they don't have to learn that lesson on their own at this point.  

That's why for lent I am giving up PMS. 

Wish me luck!