I am dreaming a lot about babies. Well, that's a given. However, in 6 months, I have only ever once dreamt about a baby that was mine/from me. That was in the first week when I hadn't yet confirmed that I was pregnant. But since then, there has been the occasional baby dream, but always much less, um, normal.
Regularly I find myself in dreamland, caring for babies who are not mine, mine but adopted or more often than not, turning into inanimate objects... usually food. Yes food. Like toast. Baby-shaped toast. Which often gets eaten, but reforms by the next morning into more baby toast.
Last night, I dreamt that we had adopted a gorgeous little Asian bubba, but the little thing kept poo-ing everywhere. I mean everywhere. I blame the (very amusing) article I read yesterday (here if you want it, thanks Ms E for sending to me).
Being that I was still up-the-duff in the dream, I knew our own baby was still due to arrive. So another set of babies arrives. Twins. They come along with someone else who has birthed them and she hands them over. I'm still thinking, 'these can't be mine. I don't remember labour (one probably doesn't forget that) and I am still very preggo over here..'. And before much else happens, they turn into lamb cutlets. P had been telling me about his delicious lamb meal he had had out at dinner that night, so maybe that's what that was about.
But seriously, babies turning into food? SO WEIRD. Am I really so obsessed with food? Or is the lamb reference a timely Australian patriotic symbol? Aussie Aussie Aussie, wahh wahh waaahhhh??
Anyway, I'll try and worry about this no more, strange as it is. Instead, I will console myself with my all-time-favourite Boosh scene.