My Dreams Haunt Me…

Some say dreams are our brains way of keeping us alive while we sleep, others say that dreams are our subconscious wants, desires and fears represented in story-like format..If this is true, then I am fifty shades of fucked..
My dreams have always been incredibly vivid; even as a child. I remember keeping a journal so I could remember the best or worst ones. I still remember some dreams and nightmares that I had over 20 years ago. Some so sad that I woke up with a soaking wet pillow of tears, others so scary that I laid paralyzed, afraid to move or even breathe and some that were so full of happiness that I hated to come back to consciousness.
Lately within the past two weeks, my dreams have all had a common theme; something or someone was missing.
It could have been a dream where amazing things were happening, or a dream where I was terrified..but one thing remained common; something was missing.
I found myself thinking in each dream that something wasn’t right, no matter what was going on. Throughout those dreams I continuously searched (almost consciously searched) for that one thing that I couldn’t place; the one thing I needed, the one thing I couldn’t find, but knew was there somewhere.
I don’t know what this “missing” item is. I’m not sure if its a person, a material possession, or just a certain feeling..but whatever it is, I search for it. I search on a nightly basis. I know I won’t be at peace until I find this “thing”..but whatever it is, I know it’s wonderful; it has to be…
Sweet Dreams….


Tween shopping!!

What’s more fun than taking a tween to the mall?

A root canal
Playing kickball with a Wasps nest
Pouring Franks RedHot into your eyes
Repeatedly smashing your head into a wall
Running laps on a 100 degree day
Walking down the streets of Harlem proudly proclaiming you love Paula Dean
Getting your haircut by Ray Charles
Running through a plate glass window
Going swimming In the waters of the cape with your Aunt Flo and a few seals
Watching said Tween now angrily dust the furniture because you told her she was doing it wrong 5 times…

Now since we have that point made, I shall begin my tale of a lesson learned. Some background info first though, for your reading enjoyment.
As a child my daughter was always easy to shop for, mainly because she never wanted to go shopping; so a clothing run was usually done online, or with a quick run to the store. I used to raid the sales at Children’s Place on a monthly basis; my child was nothing short of a junior fashion plate. She was never into anything that was horribly girly which was nice because usually that stuff was more expensive. Every once In awhile she would wear a skirt, but that was usually the result of me forcing her to wear one simply because it was cute. Asking my daughter to go shopping during this time period usually went like this:

Me: Hey Sarah, want to go to the Sarah store?

Sarah: No!

See? Easy. I would plop myself online, show her what I was buying and that was the end of it.

Now obviously my daughter started to enjoy the concept of shopping after a few years. She’s a female, usually the shopping gene hits around 8-10 (as long as its about them). Things started to become slightly harder at 10 though because not only does the shopping gene kick in, but so do the hormones. Suddenly she’s “fat” because the outfit she wants doesn’t fit her. She’s pissed because I refuse to buy the tie-dyed miniskirt at Target for her, that I would see on any skank at a Mötley Crüe show. Taking my daughter shopping had become a bit of an issue…

Yesterday it was a nightmare.

At some point along the line my daughter developed a love for anything animal print. Leopard, giraffe, zebra, you get the picture. Even better if said prints are done in colors so bright that Stevie Wonder would complain.
So yesterday began like this:

Me: Sarah, what do you want to do today? Wanna hang here? Watch movies? Relax in the AC?

Sarah: I want to go to the mall.

Me: With what money? You know I’m broke

Sarah: you don’t even have a little?

Me: Not for you to go shopping with. You have an allowance, use that.

Sarah: but I don’t want to spend MY money.

Me: But you’ll spend mine?

Sarah: Fine. I’ll get my money

We head to the mall.

Sarah seemed to have in her head that A. She was 25
B. the mall was one big dollar store

The items she went after were things even I wouldn’t wear, and the things that I approved of were “too much money”. As far as the items that were too much, she just didn’t want to spend her own money, Perhaps waiting for me to say “Don’t worry Sarah, I’ll pay the difference”: but that didn’t happen. So the already annoyed tween heads into Rue 21 and straight to a pair of leopard stilettos that I wouldn’t even have been able to walk in.

Sarah: I want these!

Me: Not a chance.




Me: STILETTOS are a type of HEEL. A HEEL that YOU won’t be able to walk in!


Me: Ummmm.. What?

Sarah: I’m buying them for when I’m older!

Me: Are you a time traveler?

Sarah: I MEANT that I’m going to buy them now, so when I get older I can wear them.

Me: (crickets)

Sarah: So can I?!?

Me: No.


And my day only gets better from there.
Now since she couldn’t get her leopard stripper shoes I was then “punished”. The old “child-reverse-psychology”.. You know you did it as a child: you couldn’t get that one thing you wanted, so to in turn PUNISH your PARENT, you turn down everything afterwards with a makeshift scowl. Regardless if you like it or not. As you can see I’m truly heartbroken that she walked out empty handed.
“I” on the other hand walked with a cute t-shirt, hair flowers, and rockabilly dress on order at Hot Topic.
Yup. I was SO punished.
The lesson learned?
If i decide to take the tween to the mall again, I need to punch myself in the face.