In my dream I woke up to find the Mr home from work, striding around the house accomplishing the half done tasks I’d left. I felt fine so I got up and started thinking about dinner. Orange chicken is what I was hankering for. Heading out to Panda seemed frivolous, but I remembered the cost-co frozen variety out in the freezer. “That’s what we’ll do then” dream me chirruped and started for the garage.
Sleep, when you’re pregnant is like the reset button on the Nintendo. Things start wigging out? Just go to sleep for a while even ten minutes can do the trick, though an hour is really preferable.
When I woke up for reals I was worried about getting the rice on. “Really?” I asked myself. “Orange chicken?”
Before I sought the refuge of my bed I had been at the kitchen sink vomiting in true ten-week fashion. As I cleaned up the mess I remembered previous pregnancies during which this type of stomach activity was part of my daily routine and marveled at memories of consuming things like Pizza and, well, orange chicken in the midst of those weeks. I couldn’t imagine eating anything but yogurt ever again. I’d made it all this way with only 2 previous incidents, both of them mild, and I just didn’t remember.
The difference between my dream self and my waking self turned out to be energy level rather than appetite. While dream self responsibly used what she had on hand, waking self didn’t even put in the effort to prepare a frozen entrée, choosing instead to get her orange chicken piping hot from the good people at Panda. I enjoyed it every bit as much as I imagined I would in my dream.