Category Archives: bad dreams

September 12, 2011 · 4:40 pm

What A Difference A Day Makes

I often say, “What a difference a year makes,” about my boys as they grow in leaps and bounds leaving babyhood behind.  Today, I can’t help but think, what a difference a day makes.  I don’t know why there’s such a stark difference between September 11th and September 12th, but there just is.  Period.  Yesterday, I was a Sad, Exhausted,Reflective, Irritable and Impatient Mama. Today, I’m a different person.

To start, I’m a Guilty Mama.  (Familiar territory.)  I think I’m a Guilty Mama every Monday morning merely because of the relief I feel after dropping the boys off at school.  For me, Mondays are quiet and peaceful –like Saturdays probably are to most non-parents – and I cherish them.  I’m also a Guilty Mama (and Guilty Wife) today because I selfishly wanted yesterday all to myself to mourn the day, but I made no arrangements to do so and then took my frustration out on the whole family.

Thankfully, I’m a Rested Mama today.  I’ve haven’t slept well in awhile.  Every night has been a new nightmare and every morning has come too early thanks to my little roosters.  Last night, however, the boys went  to sleep before 8pm.  It was 7:41pm to be exact, and I know this because I looked at the clock in awe after we closed the boys’ bedroom door behind us.  Riley actually fell asleep cuddled in my arms on the couch while Dylan sat next to me playing “Cars 2” on the Xbox.  It was a beautiful moment in an otherwise ugly day.  I was in bed and asleep before 9:30pm and slept soundly – except for one wake-up from Harry– until 7am this morning.  (Thank you, Mike, for answering the roosters’ calls.)

I’m a Wet Mama.  I got caught in a soaking rain this morning on my walk and it was glorious. I don’t mean to be dramatic and suggest the rain was some kind of soul cleansing experience, but the truth is that it did feel a little bit like a heavyweight was being washed away.  I remember running a few 5Ks in New York City in the pouring rain and those were the races that felt like the biggest accomplishments.  There was no 5K today, but my mind was racing and the rain forced it to stop.  For the first time in a long while, I felt 100% present in the moment.  I was wet and happy, and I wasn’t thinking about (or worrying about) anything except how funny it was to look up and see blue sky even in the pouring rain.

Finally, I’m a Laundry Mama.  Everyone’s sheets are getting washed today and that alone is a fresh start to the day and the week ahead.  I’m getting a haircut tomorrow, I havea girls’ night out on Thursday, and the winners of the CBS Miami Most Valuable Blogger Awards will be announced on Friday.  (Thanks again to everyone who voted!) 

There’s plenty to worry about.  The world is filled with hate, Dylan still won’t eat new food, and Riley might lose his two front teeth, but at least it’s September 12th.  What a difference a day makes.  

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Filed under anxiety, bad dreams, Guilty Mama, September 11th

September 8, 2011 · 12:42 am

Dream Catcher

Last night, I dreamed that Riley’s front teeth died in his mouth. Mine died, too, and not only were they dead, but also they were brown and smelled rotten. The night before, I dreamed the world was going to end after I gave Dylan lunch.  Under the circumstances, I gave him his favorite snack instead of forcing him to try new food.  Amazingly, he asked for carrot sticks.  Then I was forced to leave my sweet boy nibbling on carrots and wait for the planet to explode.  Do I need a dream catcher or what?

I learned from the Internet this morning that dreaming about teeth, and especially about teeth falling out, is sign offear and anxiety.  I didn’t bother researching “death and destruction in dreams” because I’m pretty sure it means something bad,too.  Interestingly, dreaming about carrots has something to do with fertility and having abundant “hardy” offspring.

I am freaked out about the real-life fate of Riley’s front teeth (we go back to the dentist next week), but I’m pretty sure these nightmares also have something to do with the anxiety I feel in the pit of my stomach around this time every year.  This Sunday is the tenth anniversary of September 11th.  Mike and I were in New York City on that day – newly engaged, living in Brooklyn, working downtown and making the most of our twenties.  I wrote a blog entry about it last September, but I never published it. Coincidentally, it was inspired by a visit to the dentist of all places.  Here’s an excerpt:

I went to the dentist on Monday morning to have my teeth cleaned.  As the hygienist lowered me down to a reclining position, my eyes became fixed on a framed poster on the wall of the World Trade Center towers.  I wondered if they knew the picture was hanging there.  I wondered if it was a mistake or a tribute.  I wondered how many people sat in this chair and stared at it while their teeth were scraped.  I wondered if they felt as sad as I did when I looked at it.

I read an article in the New York Times about a month ago about people who suffer from PTSD as a result of their experiences that day.  It’s mind-blowing how the psychological consequences of that day have turned thousands of people’s lives upside down.  I don’t have PTSD, but the truth is that I can’t look at images of September 11th (or think about it or talk about it or hear other people talk about it or read about it or watch TV shows about it) without tearing up. The emotions of that day sit in the back of my throat and feel as raw now as they did on that perfectly warm and sunny day ten years ago.

Honoring September 11th has always been difficult.  Ten years and a whole lot of life changes later, I’ll mark the day at a 5th birthday party.  Considering my current state of anxiety – when I’m awake and asleep – going to a birthday party seems like a pretty good idea and a great distraction.  I hope I’ll have a better time controlling my emotions when the boys start asking questions about September 11th in the years ahead.  In the meantime, I’m going to make the most of our Sunday plans and be a Grateful Mama for the boys’ precious, small worlds.


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Filed under bad dreams, Grateful Mama, September 11th