Day Dreams...

Here is what I am still saying - "Mama's don't let your babies grow up to be lawyers..." Hubby and my parents think that Peanut will eventually end up in law school. Over my dead corn crop. He's going to be a farmer.

It looks beautiful outside. I want to go for a swim, but I don't want to leave knowing that Hubby is coming home. I have to run errands today,too. Hubby will study - as usual.

I have the munchies. Don't know what I want, though. SO, I just want to eat everything until I figure it out.

Wait - I know what I want. Peach cobbler and bruschetta. Yum!!!!!!

This waiting for the baby is getting harder and harder. I keep imagining things that could go wrong. And I don't think that I will be able to survive if anything happens to him. I keep worrying over whether I will make a good mother or not. I don't like kids - well, only hyper children. Okay, so I only like really well-behaved children. But you have to train them to be that way. So am I going to be a good parent? I feel large - very large. I feel tired. I am tired of my feet swelling if they aren't put up all of the time. I am tired of worrying, and sleeping, and waiting... I am sick of hearing "So when I have the baby all by myself..." or "See what you have in store for you..." or "Wow, you'll never be able to do that again soon..." or "Oh, you'll give that idea up. Wait a few weeks. You won't even care any more..." or "Let's see how long that rule lasts..." I want to scream. I am tired of this incessant circle of first excitement, then dread over giving birth. I am tired of thinking, "Is this it?" everytime I have a pain. I do not wish to be pregnant much longer.

Wake up, Maggie. I got something to say to you. It's early September and I really want to go back to school...All you did was wreck my bed and in the morning kick me in the head. Oh, Maggie I couldn't have tried anymore. You made a first class fool out of me...You stole my heart, that's a pain I could do without...All I needed was a friend to lend a helping hand. But, you turned into a lover, and mother what a lover, you wore me out. You led me away from home, just because you didn't want to be alone...

I really think that Maggie Mae was a much, much older woman who liked little boys and needed to be locked up somewhere. It's a creepy song - but it has a catchy tune.

I feel like wearing a ripped pair of hip-hugging, tight, bell-bottom jeans today. With a tiny red tank top. And a head scarf. And a huge pair of sunglasses. And I would drive my convertible 'stang (powder blue - 1966 model) around some mountain cliffs overlooking the ocean. I would stop at some little gas station, where the workers would fight over who got to pump my gas. I would buy a fashion magazine and a pack of cigarettes (which I would never smoke - can someone say "YUCK!"). All eyes would follow me as I walked to the door. I would never notice. I would tip the attendant and speed on the road. After some time I would stop at a little diner. My lips would never curl into anything more than a very-knowing, very wise semi-smile. My voice would remain low and authoratative - without being rude. I would order a sandwich and a glass of tomato juice. I would leave most of the food on my plate, tip very big, and leave. I would be a woman of mystery to all who encountered me.
That night, I would stop at some hotel and get a room. I would dress in a very tight, figure-flattering white dress that would show off all of my show-stopping curves. (Imagine white, knee length...) My hair would be shoulder-length, golden brown, flipped on the ends...My jewelry would consist of one very jewel encrusted bangle. My shoes would be white alligator pumps - with slightly pointy toes and very skinny heels. My make-up would be perfect. The scent of Chanel No.5 would float in the air around me. I would walk through a small, jazzy club called the "Grotto" - with my matching, white alligator clutch in hand. I would ask for a dark booth in the back - where I could watch all that was going on.
And then he would appear. He would wear a black suit, white shirt with top button undone. He would walk over to my table without any rush or eagerness. He would ask - both politely and brusquely - if "this seat were taken?" I would demurely shrug and look past him - glass in one hand. He would sit and then - without looking at me - he would say in a low voice "So, did you get it?"...

TO BE CONTINUED...