Before I knew if I was having a little boy or a little girl, I had two dreams. In both of them, Harley was already born and a girl. I still wasn’t sure if I was growing a boy or a girl, but the dreams were interesting and when it turned out she was a girl after all, it was a cute little story to tell. Last night, I had another dream, and it wasn’t such a cute story.
I had a horrible nightmare last night, one that was probably born of my fears and insecurities. Basically, Harley was already born, and was sleeping with me and Dean in the bed. I woke up to find her dead. Actually, she didn’t look dead in my dream, she looked like a creepy, battered doll, but I kept crying in the dream that my baby was dead. Then I woke up with stiff fingers and a sore heart to my alarm clock all too early.
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I don’t normally like to blog about blogging – it just seems so meta. However, I suppose it has to be done sometimes, and this is one of those times. If you’ve been reading my words for the past month or so, I have to thank and commend you – I know my original format wasn’t pretty. It was mainly just a way to get started, to try out this whole geek mommy blogging thing and see how it went. I sort of fell in love with it, and so I’ve decided to show my commitment to sticking to it by actually getting some help to upgrade the site.
I love the new design – you can find all my social channels, so please do like and follow me everywhere. Also, you can start from the beginning or browse by category if you’re so inclined. I’m just glad that everything feels more user-friendly and ready to grow, much like my stomach at the moment. This blog is sort of like a different bun in the oven, one that was cooked more quickly than the one growing inside me, but that has helped me meet a bunch of new people already and has already made me so proud.
Big thanks to everyone for reading my words thus far, and I’m looking forward to continuing to share this journey with you all.
I am open to whoever Harley turns out to be. If she wants to wear pink and play with barbies, or wear jeans and converse and play in the mud, or even wear her pink dress in the mud as compared to staying clean inside in her overalls while reading a book – whatever this little child wants to do with herself is pretty cool with me. However, I have some alternative ideas about how I want to dress her as a baby, and the sorts of things I want at her baby shower. It’s all part of my grand plan.
For the first few months of the baby’s life, people will relate to her based on how she looks. She won’t be able to express herself and will instead be assumed to have traits depending on what she wears, her toys and whatever random stuff she decides she needs to carry around everywhere. However, the interactions with adults that she has at this stage are integral to her development; the words she hears, the tones and facial expressions will all help her understand the world around her. If she is dressed only in typical baby clothes, people will respond to her as a typical baby. However, by dressing her in fun and outrageous clothing, people will be far more likely to use higher level vocabulary when talking to her, as well as laugh a whole lot more – which is great for her development.
I love hats. I think I was blessed with a face for them, and I adore wearing hats of all kinds. My mom used to laugh at me when I started getting into my hat thing, mainly because I would wear my hats even when at home, while watching TV. But this isn’t a post about my weird fashion interests, it’s about trying to figure out how to be everything all at once.
I like to think that I’m a pretty good wife. My husband and I are happy and I do whatever I can throughout the day to think of him and do nice things. From running the errands that I know he hates to do himself, to ensuring his favorite snacks are stocked in the pantry, to pre-ordering the latest Collector’s Edition of a From Software game, it’s about doing all the things both big and small to make him smile. It makes me happy to make him happy, and he generally strives to do the same for me.
I think it’s every woman’s nightmare when someone asks if she’s pregnant or when she is due. I used to cry sometimes when people would ask because it was just so awful. I’m not a particularly overweight woman, but I do have rather generous curves. For the most part, I love them because I enjoy having ample boobs and a big round butt. Unfortunately, it means that I don’t have a flat stomach. Even when I was a size 0 (yes, there was a time in my late teens/early twenties when I was that tiny), I had a bit of a poochy belly.
Part of the joy of being pregnant has been that I don’t need to get upset when people comment on my “showing” belly. It’s kinda nice when people ask when I’m due to actually respond with a date instead of tears. But now there’s a new way to be called fat.