Bark O-paw-ma

I have a cold. I need to say this from the get-go, because along with a) being blonde, b) being pregnant, and c) being sleep deprived on account of said cold and pregnancy, it lays the foundation for my mental state--which, as you're about to see, is questionable at best.

Last night, we put Cubby to bed, and Bear promptly popped in a "Friends" DVD for me and brought me some hot tea--without me having to ask for either, mind you!--so I could settle in, get some rest, and concentrate on not coughing. (If you've ever had a horrible cough, you know exactly how much concentration this takes sometimes, if you want to avoid ralphing...which I do most definitely want to avoid, at all costs.) When I headed to bed, I felt much better, and though I still had to gobble cough drops, guzzle water, and make about 18 resulting bathroom trips during the night, I got enough quality sleep to have some memorable dreams, for the first time in a long time.

Which brings me to the questionable mental state, and the title of this entry. One of my dreams last night involved a canine Presidential candidate named Bark O-paw-ma.

What the $%@& is WRONG with me?!

Some people claim to dream the future; I, on the other hand, dream cheesy puns. If you soon start receiving handmade cards from me with references to "Santa Paws" or having a "Hoppy Easter," you'll know I've officially gone off the deep end. If these cards involve photos of Cate dressed in any type of clothing or costume whatsoever, the situation will be more dire than any of us could have forseen, and you will have no choice but to call for the men in the white coats to come and get me.

I hope they make those coats in maternity sizes, by the way, because my belly has taken a cue from Sarah Palin and gone rogue. It's so big, in fact, that Cubby felt the need to head for her new tool bench, bust out her toy sander, and sand that thing down! This would be the Mom's-eye view of that event:

Be very afraid.