Last night, I had a beautiful dream.
I was in a cafe in SanFrancisco that was furnished in all Victorian decor. The wallpaper was faded roses with wide lace pillars that went all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. The ceilings were creamy Victorian ornate designs garnished with draping crystal chandeliers, and I remember just laying on the couch and staring at how beautiful it was. There were varnished oak endtables everywhere with reading lamps gently glowing next to the low bookcases filled with old books, and leaning against the overstuffed and comfortably worn couches, on which I lounged in ecstasy.
The waiter kept bringing me glass mugs filled with frothy lattes, and plates upon plates of wonderful layered cakes. Just endless cakes and lattes, all night.
It was like this, except neverending.
There was a bluegrass band in the corner who were practicing quietly, and I was in heaven.
I realized it was 6:31 in the morning, and I still had the kids with me, and Ben had gone to work hours ago….like…as in yesterday… to fix an emergency, and I had been lounging in this beautiful SanFrancisco cafe all night and the kids were still awake, and I had to get home before Ben got home, and it is going to take an hour to get home, and there is already morning traffic, and we can’t find the car in the garage, and we keep trying to go down more stairs in the garage trying to find the car, and the kids are miserable because I have had them out all night…and what was I thinking, staying out until 6:31am. Worst.Mother.Ever.
That’s what Mommy Brain looks like.
You can’t even keep a dream with endless cakes and lattes without remorse kicking in.
I might retaliate with cake and lattes tonight, just to show it who’s boss.
Revenge is served… with steamed milk.