The other day, after a particularly stressful dream, I twittered "At what age will I stop having dreams about the mean girls from elementary school?" I should have known that my public acknowledgement of those elementary school demons would only serve as a encouragement to my brain bring them front and center -- all week.
The agonizing thing about these dreams? They usually follow the same script. In my mind, I know what to say and do, but I always ended up regressing to a nine-year old. You know, like a dream.
Here's a little powerpoint to show you what I mean...
I hadn't planned for the New Dollarshort™ to rehash childhood traumas -- that's what archives are for -- and I'm sticking to that decision. However, if I'm dreaming about this shit, it's technically occurring in the present day, therefore I'm not rehashing my past.
As part as my Mother's Day gift to our moms, I created a photo book of pictures of Penelope (since she's the one the moms really want to see). One page of the book, however, wasn't Penelope but instead a family tree of sorts documenting all the moms in our families going back to Penelope's great-great grandmothers. I'm quite proud that I was able to have a photo of every woman.
I love seeing the visible class and age differences in our two families. While five out of seven of the mothers on my side were born outside of the United States, all of the women on Ben's side were born and raised in California. And for the most part, my collection of moms were born about ten to fifteen years later than Ben's side.
In other mother's day news, Penelope and I were featured in a San Francisco Chronicle story about being online and pregnant/birthing. I loved seeing a photo of Penelope in the paper this morning and I'm certainly going to frame her first press mention.
And yes, I was in labor for 32 hours and it was quite unpleasant. But that's why today I got to have Dim Sum!