I had an odd dream last night and I can’t stop thinking about it. I have always been interested in the meaning of dreams, but this one has imprisoned my natural ability to dismiss the random thoughts in my head.
In my dream, I was with a group of people, both men and women, in a parking garage. We all had met there, in separate vehicles and we were going to turn ourselves in to the police. I don’t know what crime we committed, but there were only two people I distinctly remember being in the group. The first was my cousin Miguel Gonzales (who I grew up with and he has always been my partner in crime, so to speak) and the second was a friend and DJ I worked with in the past, Dave Decibel (when we worked together, we did work across the street from the jail and we did have to park in a parking garage). I haven’t seen either of these men in months, but guess if I were going to go to jail these were the people my unconscious mind thought were the obvious choices to accompany me. Sorry guys.
This is one of the things I found on-line about jail dreams:
“Your dream may have associated jail with dodgy people. Do you fear someone who is dodgy looking? Are you trying to avoid someone who is untrustworthy and you suspect of crime? If so then your dream depicts this dislike of dodgy looking people and your continuing wish to keep clear of them. Alternatively you may fear you are becoming dodgy yourself and that others do not fully trust you.” http://www.dreamsymbolism.info/dreamdictionary/jail-dreams.php
Now, I don’t think either of the aforementioned companions are “dodgy” or dodgy looking, and I don’t think I am becoming dodgy either, but who knows. The other weird thing is, we never went to jail. Instead we all decided not to turn ourselves in and just hung out there. We were a big group of fugitives, running from the law, in and around a big dark parking garage. Huh?!?
Is there anyone who can help me? I am feeling overly constrained by this.
I have a confession…
I never wanted to be one of those women and I never thought it would happen to me. I actually despised those women and secretly (maybe not so secretly) made fun of them. Who did they think they were?
But, things and feeling change, people change. You change too. You get married, have children and become wrapped up in doing things for others and not for yourself, and that trend turns into a lifestyle, trickling over to other aspects of your life. Ugh.
The years start to go by faster and faster, you feel like you’re running out of time. Then the societal reminders start coming at you at an even faster rate. And technology makes it even easier. You know it’s not right, but you let go of the reins, no matter what your intuition is telling you. What is happening to me?
I have really fought this for years, but I couldn’t any longer…
I bought a Christmas present before Thanksgiving!
Okay, I bought a lot of present already! Why?
Deep down in my soul I know this is wrong, I don’t even shop on Black Friday. But, I did it, and now I have conflicting feelings of guilt and satisfaction. All the gifts are still tucked in their shipping boxes stored on the highest shelf in the closet, but I check on them like a sleeping baby, just waiting for them to awaken. I can’t wait!
Oh, one more thing. Does this count as decorating? I picked up a rosemary bush shaped like a Christmas tree and put red star lights on it. Oh, please help me!
Now that the party, presents and celebratory eating out is over, reality is setting in — I am the mother of a six year-old. Whaaat?!
Getting used to saying I was someone’s mom in the first place was surreal to me. I was a first time mom at thirty-six and up to that point I was just “me.” For years there was no other title I held which connected me to anyone else other than myself.
I am convinced the reason we keep track of babies ages in months is so parents can slowly get used to being a parent, month by month. Once I was familiar with responding to being “Azul’s mom,” it was easy, I was his and he was mine, and like most parents, I wore my title with pride. I had no problem admitting I was a mom, not to mention I had an infant on my teat most of the day, so that kind of gave it away.
The transition from being a parent of an infant to toddler is an easy one, saying “my one year-old” is just as easy as saying “my two year-old” or “my three year-old.” Then there is four. This is the point where you realize that your baby is a little person and a personality starts to show (or rears its ugly head). Personality warps into budding independence and all of a sudden you have a “five year-old.” Looking back, this all seems to happen in the blink of an eye, but the fact remains, your connection to your child is still there, they are still just little guys who need you and you need them.
Your parenting grows with your child and both of you are still experiencing something new together. When you are five years into parenting, that’s exactly what it is, five years, a parent of a five year-old, and you think, “not bad, I’ve done this for five years,” with some sense of accomplishment. I’m not sure if it is the number or age or both, but at six something changes. Your baby is going to Kindergarten and is SIX! And the real kicker, not only is your child now six years old, you are six years older too. Ugh!
Azul is six and in school all day and I am forty-two! What happened? Is this what a mid-life or mid-parenting crisis feels like? Where did the time go?
I am sure there are more mid-parenting (although “mid” is deceiving) crises to come, but right now all I can do is let it sink in…I am the mother of a six year-old.