*Shudder*

I realize that by writing this right after my previous post, people may not read the one that came before.  Please check it out if you have a sec.  I need a little help for a non-earth shattering situation.


I've been feeling a lot like a lazy person lately.  I get that I'm mere weeks from due (24 days) with my third child, and I know that I rested a lot more while pregnant with Mad than I have this time.  (Some of that's because it's hard to go home and nap at lunch these days.  Last time I lived four miles from my office, and within two miles of four of my schools.  Plus, Fynn seems to require less sleep from my body.  Not that I'm awake, but if I nap, I lose that time trying to sleep at night.)  Between having Madelyn running around, and the fact that Tom's working such crazy long hours, I feel guilty about laying down during the day and leaving her care completely to him.  (Not that he's anything less than 100% qualified.  I'm not one of those annoying women who "let" their husbands "babysit" for them.)


Today I decided to risk it.  Tom and I slept while Mad was safely in her room, not napping.  I found a new reason not to sleep during the day, too.


I had a dream.  Now, I am known for my unusually detailed and bizarre dreams even when I'm not pregnant.  Sometimes I get physically involved in them.  Did I ever tell you about the time I thought a blue shadow man was going into Corey's room?  I leapt out of bed to rescue him.  Unfortunately, I led with the foot that was in the center of the bed, and that toe became tangled in the blankets on the way out of my very high bed.  I landed with a very painful thud on my knees.  Had some nasty hematomas that lasted for weeks.  Was happy I didn't break my toe off.


Today's dream didn't involve any physicality, and I did not become injured in any way.  Still, it was the worst.  I dreamt that my car was stolen.  It's a Hybrid Ford Escape.  Although the details of our neighborhood were different, the car was exactly the same (*sigh* in desperate need of a wash).  When I realized it was gone, my first instinct was to call the police.  But then I started thinking about what would happen if we didn't get the car back.  How would we afford to replace it?  What would I end up with?  And suddenly, I knew.


A gold minivan.*


And not one with all the cool features.  A gold minivan with bad gas mileage, slow acceleration, cereal pre-ground into the carpet and seats.


Instead of trusting the local PD, I went out and searched for my car myself.


I woke up and told Tom about it.  I think he was more horrified than I had been.


*Yes, I know you have a minivan and you love it.  I'm just not ready to move to the dark side.