Last night, between the many baby wakings and feedings, I managed to have a dream.
A REAL dream, you know? One that took me out of my bed, out of my house, out of my mommy-head…
I dreamt that it was New Years Eve, and I was a young twenty-something whose biggest worry was whether I was going to wear pants or a skirt when I went out club-hopping with my friends after midnight (after midnight! When was the last time I was actually OUT after midnight??? Just the thought of clubbing makes me slightly exhausted). I was acting reckless and silly and… well, younger.
Waking up from the dream was strange. I mean, one minute I'm dancing like a crazy lady among crowds of friends and strobe lights, and the next minute I am lying in bed in my pajamas, with a toddler snuggled into the deep of my neck and an infant clinging to my chest, making helicopter-like grunting noises.
My first thought was how much I missed those days, when I could hang out and get crazy with my other (young) friends for endless hours. I missed wearing short skirts and taking 20 minutes to do my makeup and drinking Bailey's like it was water.
But then I listened to my babies breathing deeply, and felt the warmth of their tiny bodies next to mine. And I realized I would gladly trade my dream life, even my really fun, really young-feeling dream life, for my beautiful mamahood reality.