Boy Crazy

High Point:

Going out to our favorite little Mexican restaurant for dinner last night and watching the little one flirt her head off with a sevenish year old boy sitting at the table next to us. She was trying so hard to show off and do everything she could to get his attention and he loved LOVED having a captive audience. My husband kept asking me what was wrong with her. "Well, it's called being boy crazy my dear...she's just starting early..." He looks at me, beer firmly grasped with one hand and flagging down another from the waiter with his other hand and says, "Wow - very early..."

Low Point:

Having a horrible, horrible dream last night that felt very real. I dreamt that I lost the baby - miscarried. I had gone into the doctor for my check-up and they, as they always do, asked for a urine sample. I went into the bathroom and that's when I lost the baby. I can't imagine what the horror of that must be like in the waking world, but I can tell you in the dream world when it feels real is terrifying. There was so much blood and body parts...shiver. I went out of the bathroom and ran to the desk and the entire office was desserted. The lights were dim and no one was to be found anywhere - it was so quiet. I stood there calling for help and ringing the bell on the desk and no one came - then I woke up. Yucky.