One Forgetful Weekend

This past weekend was rough. Not only did I have to experience my last day at a job I love... No worries my new one is going to be super great too. It has already involved afternoon naps!... But my brain seemed to leave my body.

It started on Friday after work. I went to Target to buy a couple of things. And, of course, as with any Target trip what should be quick ends up being 3 hours and what should be 2 things ends up being a buggy full. Ah. How I love Target!

Well, I was planning on going to get lunch after my "quick" trip to Target. So by the time I left my now 3 hour trip, I was starving. So much so that I went out of my way to get exactly what I wanted: Wendy's. I ordered a Jr. Hamburger, a Sour Cream and Chive Baked Potato, and a Reese's Twisted Frosty. The perfect meal for my last day of working outside the home. Then, I drove up to the window, reached into my purse to pull out my wallet, and felt nothing... I got out of the car. Looked in the trunk. Nothing. My wallet was gone. I had used it last at Target and knew that I must have left it at the register. I was so upset and mad. I was upset that I would just walk away from my wallet without thinking and mad that the cashier didn't catch up to me and give it to me when she noticed it was gone. I mean, I don't move very fast these days. It's not like I ran out. Soo... I had to leave Wendy's, leave my food, and go all the way back to Target to get my wallet... while starving. The worst part was that when I got it all I wanted was to go home. So I did where I ate a frozen dinner. NOT a great last day of work meal.

Then, came Sunday. Jeremy had to leave before me. He always locks up and sets the alarm before he leaves. So after I got ready I turned off the alarm, unlocked the door, and walked Parker. Then, I came inside, put Parker in the crate, grabbed my purse and walked to the door. Now, my keys hang from a hook near the door. I went to grab them only they weren't there. So I went to my next spot: our dresser. It was a disaster so I had to make more of a mess to look. No keys. I went to the living room; no keys. I went to the kitchen. No keys. Then I remembered that Jeremy used  them last when he drove my car the day before. So I called him. No answer. That's when I just happened to look at the back door... where my keys were hanging from the lock from when I walked Parker 10 minutes prior.

Later that day, Jeremy and I were leaving for home group. We got all the stuff together that we needed to take with us and put it on the kitchen counter, walked Parker, set the alarm, and then left. The minute we walked out of the house I realized we had left the garage opener inside so I gave Jeremy a look. He laughed, went inside, and grabbed the food off the counter. Yup, the food never, ever crossed my mind and the only reason the garage opener did was because we had an immediate need for it. Thank goodness for Jeremy.

Then, after home group Jeremy and I went to Publix to get our groceries for the week. We didn't need many.. maybe 10 items... so it was a quick trip. We drove straight from Publix to our house. It's a 10 minute drive maybe. I pulled us into the garage, got out, locked the door and proceeded to shut the garage door. Jeremy started laughing and asked me if I forgot anything. I said, "no." And he said, "We just went to the grocery store." Yes, in that 10 minute drive, I forgot all about that trip. I'm so glad Jeremy was there. Can you imagine if I went the next day and got into the car with spoiled milk?!

Today, my pregnancy app told me that pregnant women's brains actually shrink during pregnancy. I hope mine doesn't shrink anymore or may forget who I am or worst!

It's a crazy dream world

Ah.. the side effects of pregnancy just keep coming! One's just got to love it all.

The latest has been crazy dreams.

Before I go any further I must say that this one I blame completely on my good friend Annette. She is the kindest person you will ever meet. So calm, supportive, and positive. Spending time with her is like Christmas morning. Seriously. I love it. I need it. I envy it.

Anyways, one day we were talking about pregnancy (Annette has three beautiful kids) and she happened to ask me if I have had any weird dreams, because she remembered having the craziest dreams during each of her pregnancies.

Well, up until that point I had not had any. I was honestly a little relieved. I mean, one more symptom to add to my list of ever growing reasons why Bradley will remain indebted to me for forever is not something I really want to do.

But wouldn't you know that that night the crazy showed up in my dreams?? Seriously. Within 24 hours of our conversation, I start having the wildest dreams.

In the first one, Bradley was crying to be fed. There were a ton of people around and apparently in dream world, I am bold and will expose my breasts to anyone, so I picked him up, lifted up my shirt, and started to feed him. But when I looked down at him to help him latch, it was Parker not Bradley. Parker proceeded to lick my boob a couple of times and then bite it. I woke up.

In Dream #2, I am at Belk pregnant... hugely pregnant. The sales clerk tells me that they are looking for models for their latest catalog and asks if I would like to participate. "Of course!" I say. She points me to the back warehouse area and says I need to show up there no later than 3 p.m. Which I do. Except when I show up the photo shoot is over. It had gotten moved to 1 p.m. and no one had contacted me.... probably because I was hugely pregnant. Anyways. I decided to hang out and watch them finish the last shot of the day. As I'm standing there the photographer yells, "Hey! Let's get a picture of everyone from today's shoot." I don't join in, but stand off to the side. The photographer notices and says, "It's no big deal; you should still join in." I hesitate. Then, without further ado, Mario Lopez comes over, grabs my hand and sits me on the step below him. He then proceeds to rub my belly... like I am budda. I wake up.

Then comes Dream #3. Jeremy said that this one I need to forget completely. He says I don't need to pay attention to it. But this one I'm hoping is a good sign of things to come. It started with me in a bathtub. I'm complete relaxed. Then, my doctor comes in and says, "Jessica, you need to get out of there now. It's time to give birth." I slowly get out of the tub and start to walk towards the bed, but then Bradley drops. I feel it. He drops hard. I tell the doctor who responds it's ok. I just need to get in the bed. I say I can't. He's coming. Then, within seconds, out slides Baby Bradley without me feeling any pain. He's completely clean. No mess. The only odd part of the dream is that he has more rolls than the Michelin Man and a really, really tiny head. Jeremy says that wasn't the only odd part, but I choose to ignore him. What does he know??

Halloween of Years Past

Before I start telling you about the tortures of growing up with a mom who would like to be Martha Stewart, but seriously has no arts and crafts skills, let me apologize for being MIA. I have missed you. These past two weeks have been insanely busy as I get ready to end one chapter in my life and start another. And just know that I have two more weeks to go and my blogging may just continue to be sparse. But for season!

Now, on to my mom. Bless her soul. She always means well. And she always has great intentions. But sometimes the execution is just a little off. But we'll come back. First, you must come to understand the house I grew up in.

Growing up there were a few things that my siblings and I were not allowed to participate in or watch. For example, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were from the devil. Seriously. I think it had to do with the violence and talking turtles and they may have used the word "damn" once. I do remember that once or twice, I was caught watching it with my dad while my mom went grocery shopping. My mom was not happy.

Along with the Turtles were the Care Bears whose magical powers placed them burning in Hell, as well as the Smurfs, and Captain Planet. We were a strict McGee and Me family. Although, ironically, Disney movies were watched quite often. I guess the fairies in Sleeping Beauty and the mermaids and talking crustaceans in The Little Mermaid were safe from the devil and his evilness. It probably had something to do with the singing. Either way, we were a sheltered family.

So you can only imagine Halloween. There was no such thing. Instead, we celebrated Fall Festival. Fall Festival just happened to occur on the same weekend as Halloween, but it was deemed okay since it took place at a Church with Church people. We still dressed up, played games, and asked Sunday School teachers for candy, but it was done without the evils of Halloween.

Before you go all crazy on me for comparing a Fall Festival to Halloween, let's just say I know that my mom's intentions came from a very good place. As do I know that Fall Festivals are good. They are a great alternative to trick-or-treating in an unsafe world. I don't judge. I just make observations.

Now, you should also know that I never went trick-or-treating. Instead, our neighbors would sneak us candy the day after with sad looks of "you're missing out on part of the joys of being a kid." But we didn't know the difference. All we knew, was that each October my mom would dress us up in horrific outfits and proudly strut us around the Church for everyone to see.

You should also know that we were allowed to wear these same costumes to school the Friday before our Fall Festival.

Oh, we were so fortunate.

You see, my mom thought she had a knack for creating unique costumes that were adorable. And she would even make them herself! Yes, we were lucky.

We were lucky in the fact that we all have turned out semi-normal. That we have not had major mental breakdowns. And that we survived elementary school in one piece.

My first memory of dressing up for Fall Festival is probably my mom's favorite costume. She countered the entire evils of Halloween with one creative sweep of her Martha wand.

I was a "Gift from God."

A couple of things need to be noted about this photo. First, I have to apologize to my brother. He experienced my mom's torturous ways as well, and all our Fall Festival pictures are together. Ryan, let us heal together.

Second, we never owned a cat nor have we ever been fond of cats. So I'm not really sure why the cat is in the picture. It seems that my family history becomes more and more mysterious.

Now, back to the costume.

Yes, I was a gift from God as a Fall Festival costume. You are now doing one of two things: Laughing out loud with me or thinking "how cute", "what a great idea", and planning on re-gifting (sorry... couldn't resist) the idea. Please be warned. This costume was horrid. First, notice that I am wearing a box... a very wide box. A box that I could not sit in, fit through doors while wearing, or take off because nothing was under the box. I was a captive in that box. Half the games at that year's festival were off limits to me because of that costume. I couldn't go to the bathroom, I couldn't run, all I could do was stand and smile and ask for candy from the Sunday School teachers. I should not have been smiling in that picture.

Then, there was my mom's idea of dressing me as a black-eyed pea. Please do not confuse this with the band. They didn't exist at the time and I'm sure my mom would have thought they were from the devil too. No, my mom wanted me to be the vegetable. We couldn't find a picture so you will have to imagine with me. I wore a black sweater with matching black sweat pants. My eye was painted black and I had a giant white "P" on my black sweater. A black-eyed P. Go ahead. Laugh. It was creative. However, in elementary school, kids are not creative. The entire day my classmates asked me why I dressed up as a prisoner. When I explained the costume (which if you have to explain it, it is an automatic FAIL), they shrugged their shoulders, laughed at me, and ran away. By 3 p.m., I quit explaining and just took the jokes about my mom dressing me up as a prisoner for Fall Festival.

I'm not really sure why I kept letting my mom choose my costumes. I'm sure I didn't really have a choice in the matter. I mean, my mom did think she was brilliant during that time of the year.

My most normal costume growing up came about only because my best friend, Sherri, wanted us to dress up together as Indians. My mom must have liked Sherri more than me, because she agreed and then made it herself. Like I mentioned above, my mom has no arts and craft skills. But she did like to pretend....

Again, I am so sorry, Ryan. I believe, the proof of my mom's "talent" is evident in both our costumes. I've never seen an Indian's outfit quite like the one my mom made me. But I'll give her credit for two things: the kids could figure out what I was and I could move around in this costume.

I also believe that shortly thereafter I gave up Fall Festival. The tortures of children laughing at you can only be stood for so long...

On a side note: Jeremy celebrated Halloween AND went trick-or-treating. Dressed like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle none the less.

No worries. He apologized to my mom. Then, she prayed over his soul. It's the Lord that has to forgive him and the evils of his past.