I recently had a dream. Aron was going on a fishing trip and was taking all the kids. Even the one-year-old, still-breastfeeding, can’t-get-to-sleep-unless-she’s-on-her-mama Eva.
My rational friend Ellen and a couple of her friends were telling me to calm the hell down, that it’s no big deal and to enjoy my Alone Time.
And I’m yelling at her, “How can I enjoy my alone time when my breasts are going to be so full of milk they’re exploding and I’m having to pump several times a day and I can’t sleep because I’m worried about how my baby is getting to sleep and they didn’t even take bottles because we don’t really own any?”
So I tried calling Aron’s cell phone and even my own cell phone in case he took that, but neither phone was answered. And instead of scrapbooking or going to the community center to work out or going to a movie with my mom and Cathy or working on my novel, I AM FREAKING OUT.
Then Aron comes back and there is my precious baby (not sure where the other kids were at this point, but clearly I worry about them less since they are more “self-sufficient”!)and I tell him, “You are NOT taking her.” And he goes, “Yeah, I know.”
Aron thinks it’s hilarious that my nightmare is Alone Time.