Face Down Sleeping

meisajDaily Life

Marceline sleeps face down now. Ever since she figured out how to roll over a few months ago she won’t sleep on her back. Even if you put her down on her back she rolls to her stomach and sleeps face down.

Even more interestingly she now sleeps with her knees under her and butt high in the air. I know this isn’t exactly unusual for a baby, but it reminds me of how I slept after my appendix tried to kill him 15+ years ago. I slept face down with my knees under me and butt in the air for weeks. It was the only way I could fall asleep without pain.

So I can relate to it’s comfort when needed, although I’m pretty sure Marceline’s appendix isn’t trying to kill her. But maybe sleeping habbits are changing. I walked in to check on her last night when she was making noise and she was sitting up looking around the room. New things every day.

Dreams about a brother

meisajDaily Life

So I’ve been writing about PJ lately in my journal for Marceline. I write about everyone in there. I want something I can hand off to her, as an adult, to sort of read about me, my family and life.

I think that came forward about a dream involving PJ. It was this strange dream that took place part in Queensbury, part on a Boardwalk in Delaware. And PJ was a child, maybe 10 or so in my dream, while I was still an adult.

In the dream we were trying a new ice cream shop, but the ice cream shop only had berry flavored ice cream treats. I am not a fan of berries – pretty much any berry – so anything with berries in it I won’t eat. So my family asks me to watch PJ while they all get ice cream.

PJ and I walk over to the playground of my childhood. This large wooden playground that was behind the elementary school I went to. It was build when I was a child and I remember many times running through this giant wooden structure extremely gleefully only to bash my head off a low hanging wooden beam. But that’s neither here nor there.

PJ starts to run off and play, and someone calls me over. I’m not sure who this guy is, but he acts like we are good friends and I seem to accept that. He asks if I play this video game, and I say no, I’ve never played it. That it isn’t something that interests me. But then I ask him about my phone. I say I downloaded some app onto my iphone (I haven’t had an iphone in years) and it has essentially bricked my phone. All I have is a giant ad on my screen and can’t get past it. I’ve tried restarting it, no avail. My friend says he can’t help me.

My family starts to mosey over from the ice cream shop. They ask where PJ is. I become aware that PJ is trapped on my phone. Stuck in a picture. Somehow he got into my phone and now, because of that app bricking my phone, I can’t show them that PJ is safe in my phone – for some reason in my dream it is totally normal for him to be in my phone.

I start to panic and can’t explain why PJ is nowhere to be found. My family can’t understand what I am saying about PJ being trapped in my phone. All they see is the ad on my screen that I can’t get rid of.

That’s where my dream ends. It wasn’t the only dream I had last night, but definitely was the weirdest.

Too Damn Small

meisajDaily Life

Marceline finally laid down for a nap. It’s been a particularly crabby day where she did not want to be put down. Her first cold, so I can understand.

Anyways, I sat down at my desk to work on a few things. I have this journal I bought a while ago. Its a nice leather bound journal. Thick cover, lined pages with headers. And best of all, super on sale. I bought it thinking, I could journal. Maybe write something for Marceline for later on in life.

I had bought my parents these little books a few years ago. Found them in a bookstore. Basically “Mom in her words” or “Dad in his words”. I asked them to fill them out, never quite expecting to get them back. One of those things, you know. Like would be nice, but not super important. But I did get one back from my mom, and it is pretty awesome and sits on my bookshelf.

So I started this journal. I had a lot of trouble starting it. Where do you start a journal for your child. At my childhood? High School? College. Post College? I decided to start writing about moving to Cleveland and see where it takes me. I started it in October, and have made it almost 30 pages into it. Not too bad. I write when she’s asleep, and usually when I’m home alone. For some reason it feels odd to write in it when Sam is here. Not that she doesn’t already know everything I could possible write in it.

And I like that it isn’t the “Dad in his words” book. I like the free form of journal writing. I don’t think I could fill out just a list or with suggested topics. I always consider myself a story-teller, I have a ton of stories and put together, they tell a lot about my life.

As part of this I went back and read a lot of blog posts I had done from when I moved to Cleveland. To see what I remembered and what I may of forgotten. There’s a lot that was going on in my life at that time. Woo.

But, and here’s what I was originally writing about…. my desk doesn’t fit me working on the journal, having a laptop open, and my cat. And my cat demands attention. My desk…. it is just too damn small.