Well, I think by now you know I have an ultimate soft spot in my heart for my Tukey. After his bad dream (which I will tell you about in a few), we were cuddling, because man, that kid loves to cuddle with me. He is my only child who still calls me "Mommy." Ajers calls me Mom, and Diva calls me Bitch... Ha, just kiddin', she doesn't call me Bitch yet, but she's not a teenager yet. I'm just preparing for the future.
Anyway, I have asked Tukey to make me a promise and to always call me Mommy, his whole life, even when he's 18, even when he brings home that bitch of a girlfriend who calls him a Wuss for still calling his Mom "Mommy." That'll be the end of that girlfriend for sure!
So, this a.m. we were cuddling, and I told him he was my very special child because I had already had my boy, and already had my girl, but I knew there was something (someone!) else, so I had another baby. It was my Tukey.
Don't get me wrong. I cherish and love, and adore and give the same amount of affection to my Ajers and Diva, but this time in our lives, it's just Tukey and me every morning, playing Kitty Cat (which now that Daylight Savings Time has occurred, it has totally messed with our usual Kitty Cat Sun Spot so we have to find a new place to play.)
So, Tukey and I are together every morning, just him and me. I feel it's fair. He never got alone time with me. Ajers got it for 18 months before Diva came along; Diva gets alone girl time with me when we get to do things the boys don't like to do (for instance, today, she is coming with me to see how the tin foil works on my hair when they dye it, and you know it's time for a dye job when your husband notices the roots, and even asks, "When is it time for you to get your hair done again? You look like a skunk? -- SO BRING ON THE EXTRA HIGHLIGHTS AND FOILS BOYS!)
Back to Tukey: We get our special morning time together, we've been doing fun things like having lunch out, and going to the kid museum, and just hanging out. I am cherishing it. I won't get it back. Pretty soon, it'll be just me. And like three or four years ago, I remember thinking, "God, as soon as all three are in school on full days, I am going to spend a year just sleeping so I can catch up on all the sleep I missed when they were little." I don't really feel that way anymore. It's strange how time will move your thoughts and attitudes differently. I go to the mall now, and get a pang in my heart when I see young (YES YOUNG!) mothers with two or three babies in tow, and I have just my Tukey, and I think, "Wow, I really miss that time when I would bundle up all three with my double stroller and take them to the mall and spend the whole day there, just passing the time, watching them run ahead of me, or being able to share two Happy Meals four ways, and it not mattering that I only got two toys because the youngest kid was oblivious and was happy playing with the lid from the cup."
Wow, nostalgia is where this post has headed and I hadn't even planned that. Here I was all set to tell you about the bad dreams, but I ended up on a I-Wish-My-Kids-Were-Still-A-Little-Little tangent.
OK, so the bad dreams...
Tukey came into our room about 5:30 this a.m. (and of course, Hubby was already up, had emptied the dishwasher and drank a pot of coffee by this time, having that internal clock that doesn't reset itself on the weekends, which makes me happy, BTW, because on weekends, I get up whenever I'm ready to get up)...
Geeze, Manic, what are you on today?!?!? Get to the freaking dream sequence and it better be good because you're so wasting my time here with all this craptalk!
Fine! I'll tell you Tukey's bad dream:
He came in and said he had a bad dream about ghosts. He clambered (I like that word, I don't think I've ever used it) up onto my bed and then we talked more about his dream.
"The ghosts were real scary and they were coming after me."
"Honey, you know ghosts aren't really real," I said.
"Well, then, we have a really big problem," Tukey said.
"Because I BELIEVE IN GHOSTS!"
OK, it was funny when he said it. I'm not sure it came out the way I wanted it to in the written form. But that's okay, because his dream wasn't really ALL that scary. I had a much, much, much more terrifying dream.
It was about lobsters. Tell me that lobsters are not more scary than ghosts? They're creepy, crawly, with big pinchers and my Nana used to chase us around the yard with them making us scream and cry while my parents mixed another cocktail and laughed at our terror.
So, you see, lobsters scare me.
In my dream however, the lobster was dead. This part made me happy because I was about to eat some of the juicy meat from the hugest lobster tail I had ever seen.
It was on my plate, steaming, recently having met its death in a big pot of boiling water, when probably just hours previously, he was deep in the sea, singing Kiss The Girls with Ariel and Flounder, thinking he was living the good life.
Then, he arrived on my plate. And I was hungry, so hungry for that lobster meat.
(I just realized the lobster dream came to me because I had a cup of lobster bisque at lunch with Homecoming Queen -- Happy Birthday Homecoming Queen! -- and Hot Five-Oh Mom, and two other good gal pals who I don't *think* know I have a blog or a split personality, or know that I am known in the blog world as Manic Mom.)
So, he arrived on my plate. And I was hungry, so hungry for that lobster meat. I asked my server for some drawn butter. A busboy came back with a spoon, thinking that's what I had requested (again, in real life, the busboy brought Homecoming Queen a spoon to share my lobster bisque).
Still no butter. I stared at my lobster, thinking it was getting cold, and again, I summoned my server.
"Could you please bring me some drawn butter?"
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Like MELTED BUTTER! Just put some butter in the microwave and melt it!"
I was scared. I knew what was going to happen, but there was nothing I could do except yell to her:
"HURRY! HURRY! It's about to happen, and I need my butter! I HAVE TO TASTE MY LOBSTER AND I CANNOT DO IT WITHOUT MY BUTTER!"
But, it was too late. Too late for my butter; too late for my tasty lobster because...
I FREAKING WOKE UP AND DIDN'T EVEN GET TO TASTE MY LOBSTER!!!!
Now, tell me a worse dream than THAT!!