Monthly Archives: September 2011

Nighttime Parenting

The boys are five months old now and have slept in our room since they came home from the hospital. We have a co-sleeper that used to be attached to the bed, but it was such a nuisance for me to get in and out of bed that we moved it against the wall. Generally, one or the other will wake up around 3:30 or 4:00 a.m. and I just pull him into bed with me to nurse. We both fall back asleep and when/if the next one wakes up I just switch. I always wake up with someone next to me in bed.

And I like it this way.

And OW tolerates it.

He is pushing to get the nursery finished and he thinks that once it’s finished and the cribs are moved in, the babies will move in too. I wouldn’t be completely opposed to that except that we have a first floor master. The nursery is upstairs. I’ve told him repeatedly that I have no intention of trudging upstairs, sitting in a chair to nurse, putting the baby back in the crib once I’m sure he’s asleep, going back downstairs, and repeating this two, three or more times per night. I simply won’t do it. I told him that I may start out the night in our bedroom but that once I go upstairs I stay upstairs. I don’t mind putting them in the crib to start, but after that I’ll just sleep in the guest bedroom with one or both of them next to me.

He wonders how long this arrangement will go on and I’m afraid to tell him that it could be a year or even two (possibly more?). Two year olds don’t always sleep through the night either and do I want my two year olds to come down the stairs alone at night in order to crawl into bed with us? I guess I’ll have to make those judgments as they grow and I can gauge their abilities, but I’m concerned this could go on for two or three years.

My concern isn’t whether they sleep in bed with us. My concern is that OW will not understand why it’s so important to me that I don’t stop parenting just because the sun has gone down. My first husband and I practiced complete bed-sharing with our first two – we never even had a crib – but that was really too much. I’m feeling more in the middle this time. The boys can start out in their own beds and come to us when they need to. I want them to see their room and their beds as a welcoming, comforting place to be and not a prison in which they are locked every night. I won’t leave them in there with a no-matter-what attitude. I don’t think OW wants to do that either. I think he is truly ignorant of how babies and toddlers develop.

My sister has four year old twins (I know that’s odd, but it’s a totally bizarre coincidence, since hers are dizygotic and mine are monozygotic). She had them in their own cribs in their own room right from the beginning. She went back to work full time about three months after they were born. I believe she practiced CIO but I’m not sure because I’m afraid to ask. At some point she changed the door knob on the boys’ room so that she could lock it from the outside. I was beyond horrified when my mother told me that. I swore I would never do that. She scoffed at me and said, “Oh yes you will.” Oh no I won’t. I can imagine putting a gate there. I can imagine putting a pretty tall gate there to keep wandering toddlers from toddling to unsafe places but I cannot imagine locking my children in their room.

What will our nighttime parenting look like as the boys grow? I’m not sure yet, but I hope I’ll always be respectful of both their and OW’s and my needs.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.


On Blogging

I made a commitment to myself when I started this blog that I would post three times a week. This week I missed both Monday and Wednesday and I’m hoping to get this posted before Friday is over.

I’ve been thinking about why I’m blogging, what I hope to get out of it, and why I’ve put pressure on myself to post so often.

Part of the reason I started a blog is that I am not free to talk about some things that are important to me or are difficult for me to talk about with people in my offline life. This is a self-imposed restriction. No one is telling me to shut up. I’m just embarrassed about some of my darker feelings. Of course, everyone has little complaints about their life, their spouse, their mother, their kids, and those complaints are often not appropriate to share with the people closest to us. I don’t want to make OW feel badly by telling him that his end of day breath mixed with the odiferous diet cran-grape he drinks all evening makes me have to turn my back to him in bed in order to avoid gagging. But there are other things I keep deep inside that I’m afraid to share with the people in my life. There is something freeing and cathartic about revealing those secrets (nearly) anonymously with other people.

I hope my embarrassing incidents, weird confessions, worries and even dark moods are things that other people can relate to. I write not only to get it out of my system but also in hopes that I will get some kind of confirmation that I’m not completely wacko. In that sense, I hope to reach out to other moms who share my concerns, worries and joys as well. I want to know that I am not alone in this and I want other moms to know they aren’t alone either.

Why did I commit to writing three times a week? I know that most people won’t bother to read a blog that’s not updated regularly, and I know that writing frequently will improve my writing in general. Unfortunately, the pressure I put on myself to meet my own deadlines is stressful. It’s very difficult for me to find time to sit at the computer and write. I have to do it during naptimes or after the twins and OW have gone to bed. Those are also the times I have other things that need doing. I feel guilty about sitting here “doing nothing” while there is so much in the house to be done.

If you blog, why? What do you get out of it? Do you put pressure on yourself to blog a certain number of times per week?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Up by the Bootstraps

Last week I wrote that I was feeling overwhelmed and rather hopeless. I appreciate the support I received and it’s great to know that there is a caring community of women out there willing to help, even when they’re reaching out to someone they’ve never met.

I still feel overwhelmed. My boys are rarely taking more than 20 minute naps and it’s really difficult to even find time to shower, much less eat, clean up, or cook dinner. I also miss being able to just hang out online for relaxation. I stay connected via my smart phone, scrolling through Twitter and my forums with one hand while I nurse or just hold a sleeping baby. I stay up way, way too late at night after they’ve gone down for the night. I write or read, and it’s virtually the only time I have to write blog posts. I made a quiet commitment to myself to write a post three times a week because I know it’s good for my soul and for my mental health. I get to write here about things I can’t tell anyone in my life. I don’t have real friends in my offline life. I am developing friendships with a couple of other moms I’ve met but we’re definitely not up to the level of true sharing. My husband is my best friend but there are lots of things I don’t want to share with him because he’s a dude and because I don’t want to put additional pressure on him.

I’m not feeling quite as hopeless this week as I did last week. I feel like I’m sort of teetering on the edge of depression but I’m not there. I do know all about severe depression and I’ve been hospitalized a number of times. I was diagnosed years ago with Bipolar II. My manic episodes are not as common as my depressive ones and the medication I’m taking seems to have almost entirely eliminated the mania. I think it also helps keep me from plunging into the deep darkness but it’s not pure magic. I have a responsibility to myself to do the things that help keep me out of that hole.

When I am at this edge, I know that it is up to me to take measures to avoid disaster. Once I start sliding down it becomes much more difficult – nearly impossible – to pull myself back up.

So I’m committing myself to doing some of the things that I know will help me. If I still feel like I’m sliding I’ll call my doctor and get an appointment.

  • Stare at my little miracles and think about what miracles they really are.
  • Talk to people, not about the depression but about life and my boys and our family’s activities.
  • Do tangible things for other people. I’m not in a position right now to commit myself much in the way of charity work, but I can make a card for my friend down the street or make some banana bread for my neighbor.
  • Go for walks in my neighborhood in the evening. Many of the families here do this and it’s a good way to connect with people, develop friendships, and get some fresh air.
  • Let as much natural light into the house as possible. In lieu of that, turn up all the lights.
  • Do little things around the house to make it more pleasant. Light a scented candle. Take five minutes while the boys are napping to sort through a pile of papers. Make the bed (this is a surprisingly effective pick-me-up for me).
  • Watch really funny sitcoms like The Office, Community, The Middle, and Modern Family. If I can’t muster up some belly laughs from those I know it’s time to go to the doctor.

I’m going to print out this list and post it on the refrigerator to give me reminders throughout the day. Hopefully I can stop this slide in its tracks.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Odd Confession Day

Odd Confession Day

These are some of the weird, random things I think about or do. Surely I’m not the only one… On the other hand, perhaps I am.

*  I had a bizarre thought last night: This is probably the last penis I’ll ever touch. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

*  I sneak food, even when I’m alone. I’ll buy potato chips at the supermarket, open them in the car on the way home, and then hide them in the car until I can sneak them into the house without OW seeing them. Then I hide them in the back of the pantry.

*  Sometimes when one of the twins is crying and crying nothing seems to help, I softly sing him a lullaby in which the only words are “shut up”.

*  I pretend my hair color is natural even though people can obviously see my roots peeking out.

*  I’m trying to psychically will my twins’ eyes to be blue instead of brown, so they’ll have something from me.

*  I made goulash yesterday from pork that was several days past its sell-by date. We’re having it for dinner tonight but I didn’t tell OW about the age of the pork. I’m seriously hoping it won’t make us sick and I feel very sneaky.

*  I was rinsing a poopy diaper in the toilet (we use cloth) while baby was on the changing table (I know, I know but he can’t move around yet). He was starting to fuss so I rushed to finish and get the diaper in the pail. Then the other baby started to fuss and I got distracted. I finished with baby number one and went on to baby number two. A while later, while they were napping, I was snacking on some pistachios. I kept smelling something weird and my fingers tasted funny when I licked the salt off. I realized with horror that in my distraction earlier I had failed to wash my hands after rinsing the diaper. Ugh to Nth power.

Confess something to me.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Bonding Part 2

I’m not a Christian but OW is a devout Lutheran, son and grandson of Lutheran ministers. We have silently agreed that I will accompany him to church on high holy days and a few other times during the year.

Yesterday was the annual outdoor service and picnic. This is one of the days I agree to go and we managed to get the twins, both dogs, and us out the door and to the church before the service started. This is almost enough of a miracle to make me believe.

The boys were both tired and a bit grumpy, but I knew that they’d probably fall asleep. Grandma took Jelly and I held Peanut Butter because I knew he was hungry. It was a beautiful day and we sat in the shade of a huge tree near the church. I sat near the back and off to the side for a little extra privacy. As I sat there in my folding chair, nursing and listening quietly, I realized that I never take the time to just sit with my babies. I’m almost always in a rush to accomplish the next task. If one is nursing the other is getting fussy. If Peanut Butter falls asleep I hurry to get him to lie down so I can take care of Jelly. If I’m lucky enough to get them both asleep at the same time, I race to get to the washing machine, the kitchen, the toilet scrubber, the vacuum cleaner. If one is awake and complaining, up he goes on my back while I race to get to the washing machine, the kitchen, the toilet scrubber, the vacuum cleaner.

So as I listened to the hymns and nursed Peanut butter, I was free to do nothing but stare at him. I wasn’t playing with my cell phone, I wasn’t thinking about folding a load of laundry, and I wasn’t making mental lists. Because he was nursing and sleeping I didn’t even have to participate in the up and down of the service. I had an entire hour to just sit and look at him. To look at each hair in his golden eyebrows; the folds of his ears; the blue vein that curves around his right temple; the particular way his hair swirls at the edge of his hairline; the buttery smoothness of his skin; the scratch on his cheek; the length of each fingernail; the shape of his lips; the pads on his feet; the weight of his tiny body in my arms.

And it was beautiful but sad for me at the same time. I’m sad that I am so anxious to prove my worth as a new stay at home mom that I don’t feel I have the luxury of just sitting and staring at my babies. Who will wash the clothes? Who will cook dinner? Who will sweep up the pounds of sand the dogs track in every day? These things have to be done. It’s not an option for us to have no clothes to wear, or to eat take out every night. Beyond that, the house devolves quickly into chaos if I don’t constantly work on keeping the hotspot surfaces from being overtaken by clutter. It’s amazing how quickly that happens. As I write this, I’m looking around at the stuff – the STUFF – threatening to devour us because I’ve been too down to take care of things for the past few days.

In the meantime, the boys have become just a part of my household routine. I’ve mentioned before that I’m worried that I’m not bonding appropriately with the twins. The affection I noticed felt while taking that hour to look at my little Peanut Butter must be part of what the bonding feels like. I was more at peace during that hour than I have been in a long, long time.

How do I continue to develop this with both of my boys while dealing with the practical realities of feeding my family and maintaining our home?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Blog Hop

I’m participating in a blog hop for the first time. Apparently the javascript link won’t work with this WordPress site, so I have to link to the blog where I joined the hop.

Most of the entries seem to be other twin blogs. I’m always looking for blogs about All Things Twin, so this is neat. Here is the blog where I hopped on:

Twinpossible Weekend Blog Hop



Just Bullshit

The past few days have been pretty difficult for me. I couldn’t think of a good blog topic for today. Actually, that’s not true. I have a whole list of topics written down but I just haven’t had the oomph to write about any of them.

This blog is called bare wood – the unvarnished truth, so I’m going to expose the bareness of my wood just a bit.

I think I’m falling into a bit of a depression. I continue to take medication every day, but the color is starting to drain from the grass and the trees and the world around me. My sweet babies seem less and less sweet each day. I can’t fall asleep without pharmaceutical assistance and I don’t want to get up in the morning.

I’m terrified of my own children. I did a rotten job with my first two and I am certain I am and will continue to do a rotten job with the twins. I am impatient and self-absorbed much of the time. It is so hard to manage both of them at once. The thing I’m crying about most often now is that I know it doesn’t get better. Everyone tells me it does but I know that’s not true. It gets different but it doesn’t get better. Crying babies are replaced by tantrum-throwing toddlers who are replaced by defiant kids who are replaced by sullen tweens who are replaced by obnoxious rebellious teens who are replaced by unfocused, irresponsible young adults. I consider all of that to be largely my fault. If I’d been a better parent maybe they wouldn’t have gone along this particular path.

Worse for them is that my mother passed along her mental illness to me and I passed it along to my oldest son. Have I passed it along to the twins too? How irresponsible was it of me to have them knowing about this possibility? I can’t live with more children trying hard to commit suicide and self-medicating with drugs. I know it seems foolish to look that far into the future with Peanut Butter and Jelly but how can I not? I’m faced with the future every day because I know what comes next. I have fantasies of doing everything right this time but that’s just delusional.

Right now the boys seem to be going through a growth spurt, so my already insufficient milk supply is even more insufficient. I nurse and nurse and nurse but they are still hungry. They are beginning to refuse to nurse because it doesn’t come fast enough. I know this will worsen my supply issues even more. They are also barely sleeping during the day and never both at once. The house is going to hell and I can’t manage to get dinner cooked. So here I am failing at feeding my own children and failing to feed my husband or do anything. He’s going to wonder soon what the hell he’s doing supporting me when I can’t even take care of the house. I keep crying throwing up my food because I feel so stressed out.

I know what you’ll say: Get some help. When do I do that? I have a therapist I was seeing regularly before the boys were born but how am I supposed to go see her now? I have to have someone (my MIL or SIL or mom usually) come babysit and what do I tell them about where I’m going? I don’t want them to know. Plus, I don’t even know what to say to the therapist. I feel like shit. Now what?

I’ll probably come out of this after a while. I get nervous about how long it will last but mostly that’s up to me. I need to stop wallowing and just get the hell up and go on. My husband says he thinks depression is mostly about being too inward focused, which is a result of being selfish and self-absorbed. That’s why I never tell him about how I feel. I don’t want him to think that about me. And I often think he’s right. Yes, there is probably some real neurological problem that makes me more prone to cycles of depression and mania but isn’t it up to me, in the end, to take control of myself? Maybe I’ll find the energy to do that after a while. Right now I just don’t have it.

I love my husband but

I love my husband. I really do.


You knew there was a but, right?

I need to start by extolling his virtues as both a husband and a father. He gave me flowers and a card for our semi-versary. That’s right, he made a big deal out of us being married for six months. How cool is that? He is loving and attentive for the most part. He takes my feelings into consideration and respects my opinions. He won’t let me carry a heavy bag and holds the door for me.

He shines as a father too. He got up every time the babies did for the first several months when I was having to pump and give bottles (the boys weren’t up to speed on breastfeeding yet). He’ll still get up during the night if I need help. He’s rinsed out more poopy diapers than I have and he never cringes or complains. Every single morning, weekends included, he gets up before I do. He makes me an iced coffee just the way I like it, brings the vitamins and medications into the bedroom for all of us, and changes the diapers of wakeful babies while I’m still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. He’ll throw the diapers in the dryer and unload the dishwasher for me. In the evening he is just as likely as I am to put aside a hot dinner to hold a crying babe. He’s willing to learn to babywear, and is excited about our future together as a family.

So I was perplexed and annoyed to get a phone call from him while I was in the supermarket Monday evening. The store is 8 minutes from the house. I had a list and had been methodically working my way through it for about 40 minutes and I was nearly done. The phone rang and all I could hear was the twins screaming bloody murder.  “Hello? Hello?” I said. Finally, his strained voice says to me, “Do you hear that? Do you hear that? You’ve got to come home!”

I told him that I was working my way through as quickly as I could and would be home as soon as possible. I felt a twinge of annoyance at that point, but kept moving. Ten minutes later, as I was just crossing off the last few items on my list, he called again. “Come home!” he demanded. Now I was mad. I was standing in the checkout line when I got a text from him telling me to hurry up.

Now I was pissed off. What did he think I was doing? I was not dilly-dallying. It’s not like I was getting a pedicure. I was buying food so our family could eat! I make my list in order by aisle so I don’t have to cross back through the store. I was buying exactly what was on my list and not lingering in front of the cookies. I was going as fast as I effing could.

When I got home he was a wreck. I had been gone exactly one hour. The babies had been crying for 45 minutes and he was about to have a breakdown.


I mean, seriously?

What the fuck does he think I deal with every fucking day?

Whew – sorry about the profanity, but really. This is my life. It’s my life all day every single day. There is 45 minutes of stereo screaming on a GOOD day. I don’t call him and tell him he has to come home. There are days when I send him a text or emailsaying that it’s been a bad day and asking whether he could please bring home dinner. There have even been days when I’ve called him, crying, to say that it’s not fair to Peanut Butter that Jelly cries so much and needs more attention. But I do that because I need to tell someone about my pain. I don’t insist that he drop what he’s doing to come save me.

In fact, I was virtually alone with the twins the entire Labor Day weekend because he’s been painting all of the rooms on the second floor of our house (which I appreciate – he has worked really hard on home improvements and sees it as a gift to our whole family). The boys have been particularly fussy of late and he listened to me caring for two crying babies by myself for the whole weekend. I do appreciate the work, but I am offended that I was not allowed one freaking hour to do grocery shopping.

I’m so tempted to jab him with comments about how I have to deal with them all the time and he doesn’t. He likes to tell me how hard his job is. I know it is very stressful and I never diminish that. Could I get a little credit too though? And couldn’t he just suck it up and let me enjoy an hour by myself at the supermarket?

 That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it

A Tale of Two Parenting Styles

Last week I spoke at a childbirth education class for parents expecting multiples. I was excited about it because I love to speak in front of a group and I felt I genuinely had something of value to share. The only guideline I was given was to talk about my experience being a mom of twins. I had no idea whether there was a time limit (in retrospect, I really wished I’d asked for guidance on that). I knew I would be sharing the time with another couple, who have 11-month-old fraternal twins.

I arrived just after the first couple did and my adrenaline started pumping right away. I LOVE this shit! I couldn’t wait to get started. The other couple went first. I was mortified the instant the woman opened her mouth. She seemed completely devoid of personality and spoke in a monotone. I noticed she had the book Babywise on her lap and felt my heart sink. She was going to tell these poor, unsuspecting parents how great their lives were after they let the babies scream for hours several nights in a row beginning at about 7 weeks of age. Babywise is in almost every way the exact opposite of the attachment parenting style I believe in. It advocates “parent directed feeding” (scheduled feeding), crying it out beginning at 6 weeks, forced playtime alone, and punitive discipline starting at 6 months of age (including corporal punishment and isolation). The whole thing makes me completely sick to my stomach.

I understand that not everyone has the same parenting philosophy I do and I try to be respectful of others’ choices, as I hope they are of mine. Some things cross a line even I can’t ignore though. Most of this couple’s talk was not about Babywise methods, although they did cite it specifically for sleep training. Still, their experience reflected the consequences of following this advice. For example, The mom said that her milk started to “dry up” and she was finished breastfeeding by three and a half months. She said she felt sort of conflicted about it but figured they’d gotten “all the good out of it they were going to get anyway.” Following a feeding schedule and refusing to feed at night beginning by only 8 weeks of age is a sure way to diminish your supply, and don’t even get me started on the advantages of breastfeeding through the first year.

I tried not to screw up my face while she was talking. I tried to sit calmly, knowing that I would soon be able to present a different view of parenting, but I could feel myself becoming wild with fear that these parents would go home excited about the prospect of wising up their babies.

I have an issue with obsessive-compulsive disorder and this is one of the areas in which I suffer. In my non-OCD moments I do realize that neither I nor this other couple is likely to sway someone so much to one side that it defines their parenting. Each parent must research parenting styles and do what they believe is best for their family. At that moment though, I suddenly felt an intense need to “save” my audience. The thoughts started swirling around my head so quickly and so forcefully that I don’t remember much of what the other couple said after the first ten minutes or so.

When my turn came I was practically jumping out of my skin with anticipation. I may even have begun babbling. There was so much I HAD to tell these parents-to-be! I was a tent revival evangelist and my flock needed salvation. I demonstrated both a front and back carry with the mei tai. I recited the Gospel of Breastfeeding. I extolled the virtues of natural childbirth and co-sleeping and cast out the demons of crying it out and scheduled feedings.

Truthfully, I did not assail them with attachment parenting doctrine, though I would have loved to. I did try to focus on life with twins from my attachment parenting point of view. I told them about redefining success in various areas, including childbirth and breastfeeding.

I told them that the hardest part about having twins, for me, is having one cry while I’m caring for the other and not being able to do anything about it. The Babywise mom must not have been paying close attention because she piped up with, “oh you’ll get used to it.” I replied that I didn’t think I ever could. She responded that it was harder for her husband than for her but that after a few nights they stopped crying. I was horrified. I started to stammer and tried to make it clear that I was most certainly not talking about crying it out, rather that I couldn’t always comfort both at once. I reiterated that I would NEVER get used to that.

After that I continued to go on and on and on about what items I couldn’t live without and so forth. The poor instructor kept giving me cues to let me know that my time was up but I was too caught up in my spiel to notice. Thinking back, I do remember her saying “Well thank you SO MUCH Jenny!” at least a couple of times.

I just felt so passionate about sharing my “wisdom” (bwahahahaha!) that I couldn’t stop! I wish I’d worked up something more resembling a speech so that I could cover the points in a logical order, keep from rambling and seem sane. I have a lot of trouble editing myself. That’s true in my everyday life as well as here on this blog. How do I learn to moderate myself? I feel like I’m going to pop like a cork out of a champagne bottle when I try to hold things in. I love to write, I love to speak to an audience, and I love to chat with people.

Are you like that? Have you learned to edit yourself? Share your wisdom with me!

Friday Five

I thought it would be fun to do some memes, so here is a Friday Five.

1. Describe a recurring dream you have and what you think it means.

I have several recurring dreams. The details differ slightly but the theme is consistent. I had one of my regulars last night. I dream that I find myself in a situation that would, in real life, be very private or embarrassing. Everyone has those, right? You discover that you’re naked and you run around trying to clothe yourself. Mine have an odd twist. In addition to finding myself naked, I also frequently dream that I’m on the toilet or having sex in front of a lot of strangers. The twist is that I don’t care. I’m not ashamed and am happy to continue, even though the people around me are uncomfortable with the situation. There is usually a friend with me who is embarrassed by my lack of embarrassment and tries to convince me to put on my clothes, get off of the toilet, etc. I typically refuse and have an attitude about it too. Sometimes I will capitulate because of pressure from others but never because of my own discomfort. What do you think this means?

2. What do you like to daydream about?

Oh I daydream about lots of things. Unfortunately, mine are often dark. I daydream about my children’s future and pull up all sorts of depressing scenarios. I imagine myself old, alone and broke. I picture burning myself horribly while cooking. They aren’t all so miserable though. I also daydream about doing everything perfectly in raising Peanut Butter & Jelly – fixing all of the mistakes I made with my first two boys. I imagine them kissing me on the cheek as they leave for high school each day. I picture them graduating from law school and joining their father in his practice. Sometimes I daydream for myself. I see OW with a wildly successful practice, with eight or ten attorneys under him. He no longer has to put in 10 hour days and we have the money for me to comfortably stay home forever. I am the president of the Junior League AND the PTA.

3. What’s the scariest dream you can remember?

This is another recurring dream. I am being physically attacked and there is a crowd of people standing around just watching. I beg for help but no one steps forward. I fight as hard as I can but know I can not get away. When I was a teenager my father would often be in the crowd. I would cry and plead with him to help, but he would just turn away. I would always wake up in a cold sweat, feeling sick at my stomach.

4. What would be a “dream come true” for you?

Ah, the daydream about spending my days volunteering and shuttling my kids to their activities while keeping my house magazine beautiful and cooking a gourmet meal each night would be my dream come true. Some parts of that are reasonably attainable, some probably aren’t. But a dream is a goal to work toward.

5. What is the best dream you’ve ever had?

I’ve only had a flying dream once, but it has stuck with me for years and years. In the dream I had a beautiful, multi-colored cape that allowed me to spin around slowly and then levitate. From there I was able to just will myself up and down and in any direction I chose. Even now, years later, I distinctly remember the colors of the cape and of the world around me. I remember the wonderful feeling of flying. It was literally and figuratively a lightness of being. I keep hoping that I’ll have that dream again one day.

What do you dream about?

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.