Last night, I had yet another baby dream. Kind of.

I dreamt that as we were getting ready to go to lunch, my co-teacher said to the kids “Don’t forget to congratulate Mrs. S, because she’s pregnant! You guys can go!” And she sent the kids off to lunch. Then I was all pissed: I didn’t know I was pregnant, and the kids! They would be so disappointed, again! (I April Fooled them this year with a sonogram image) But how did co-teacher even know? She didn’t did she? It was weird.

I told her about it this morning, with a hearty HAHA at the end, and co-teacher, who’s sort of a neo-pagan type, said “that’s so weird. There seems to be some a lot of pregnancy energy around you lately. Who knows, maybe you are!” And she has no idea that it’s an option, at this point. At all. I just HAHA’d again, and moved on.

And then promptly felt nauseous when lunch was what I had dreamed about: french bread pizza.

Now, it’s not like lunch is a big mystery, but I’ve been checking lunch day by day. And the nausea thing was probably just the result of this weird cold virus I’ve been playing chicken with.

But still. One more week.