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When someone tells you about a dream it's like saying "Here is a story of something that didn't happen."

I had a queer dream last night. Dan and I were at a party with a few college friends, when suddenly the doors burst open and in enter a herd of beautiful people wearing nothing but thongs. "These are the models I've hired to have sex with us" says our hostess. As a pair of perfectly dimpled buttocks approaches me I announce, "Thanks, but I think I'll just watch this time. I'm fertile today."

The next moment a baby is screaming and with a jolt I see the bed clothes and the sunrise and the tiny shrieking mouth of awakeness. "That was stupid," I say to myself as I fumble for a diaper and shake away the sleepiness.

"Obviously if we were attending a swingers party we would use a condom."

It seems perhaps that nursing for two-and-a-half years has done something funny to my brain. Of course I'm firmly committed to my stance that nursing breasts are food not sex. Therefore I have no problem glimpsing a stray nipple from the row in front of me at church when someone goes to feed her baby. No more than seeing the person next to me chow down on a bagel. Yes, I know what you're thinking, but we go to a very liberal church. They allow BAGELS in the SANCTUARY!

Still, something in my subconscious tells me that my thought life would be improved with a bit of good old-fashioned 12-month weaning, and a timely end to co-sleeping, and maybe a return to my moratorium on lady Gaga videos. Seriously, they can play that on tv? what on earth? Maybe I'm getting old, but...


Hilarious! And I love the tag on the post.

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