Well, baby Easton should be here within the next couple of weeks. I've been blessed with an easy pregnancy. I didn't experience more than 3 days of morning sickness, although for the full first trimester I couldn't stand the thought of meat or dairy products. So, I definitely had some food aversion. I haven't experienced the infamous pregnancy heart burn either. The only thing that has made this experience uncomfortable is the constant back ache that started around 17 or 18 weeks. It hasn't been anything that some Tylenol wasn't able to help though. At 36 weeks, I'm still fascinated every time I feel him move or (now that he's big enough) see him move as my belly changes form with his wiggling. I can't help but blurt out to the person next to me, "Did you see that!? Whoa!" when he pushes my belly out in one spot. I'm sure I sound a bit like a 5 year old watching American Ninja Warriors (which by the way, I recommend watching. It's pretty cool). It also still surprises me every night at how retarded and crazy my dreams are. Most of them are hilarious, but there have been a few really awful ones that still somehow are kind of funny just because of how ridiculous they are. Here's a good example of that:
In one dream, something happens to Brad. I don't know exactly what happens, but he's hurt. However, we weren't together when it happened (married-yes, just physically apart). I was walking around this huge mall when a stranger (civilian, I might add) tells me that my husband is going to receive some kind of therapy for his injuries. I wonder in the dream how this man knows me or Brad, but dismiss it and go to the nearest desk that I see. It looks like an entrance to a movie theater in the sense that it's a small room and you talk to the clerk through a glass window with a slot for exchanging money for tickets. It is covered in flashy gold lights and says "Majestic" in neon lights vertically down the side of the kiosk that blink on and off. I ask the woman inside where Brad Holland is located and she tells me he's on his way to "Coney Island OT" (as in occupational therapy). That's right, coney island... I told you these dreams are nuts. I am then frantically trying to find this place and finally a security guard gives me directions. He tells me that Coney Island OT is located near the dip 'n dots right outside the main entrance to the mall. I go outside, find the dip 'n dots and see a sign for the clinic. I go in. All of a sudden, beyond the door, it's not a room or a building but instead I'm outside on a huge pier. I see a large group of people sitting next to a concession stand and I go sit down behind them. I hear them talking about their family member who was in an accident and they don't know if the person will live or not. I soon realize that this is no ordinary OT clinic, but instead it's kind of like an ICU except you're outside on a pier with a carnival, watching people being wheeled in and out on gurneys. I freak out, thinking that Brad's injuries are much more serious than I thought. So I start running around to find him and asking everyone if they know where Brad is, only to find out that unlike the mall people who all knew us, here, no one did. Then I notice that injured people are being put in bumper boats (that's right, like the game) with poles attached that seem to attach them to the sky instead of a ceiling. (Yeah, I don't know either). I hijack a bumper boat and am being chased by bumper boats with police sirens when I wake up and the dream ends. The next day, I tell Brad that if we go on vacation and he gets injured, that he's not allowed to go to Coney Island OT.
Ok, so I'm a really bad story teller and I never learned the kindergarten trick to shortening stories. Sorry. With that being said, and my fingers tired of typing, I'll end this. My word of wisdom to anyone reading this is to never go to Coney Island OT. It's a trick.
