I have a bit of a confession. For the last twenty-four hours, I’ve been obsessed with Robert Pattinson. You know, kind of like the entire world’s population of teenagers is obsessed with him? Like with posters of him on their ceilings and bouncing images on their screensavers and stuff? Women (and men) willing to stand outside a film set, screaming their heads off for hours? I’d totally do that right now. I’m just like them!! Except for the fact that I’m a GROWN-UP.
A MARRIED GROWN-UP.
To be fair, it all really started when I was pregnant with Fuzz. You know what I’m going to say next, don’t you?
I really had NO interest in Twilight when I initially heard about it:
1. Because I never tend to jump on trends until way after they’re over and done. I’m the opposite of trend-setter, I’m a trend-garbage dump- rummager.
And 2. I had no interest in vampires.
However, another pregnant friend sent me the books and said that I should really give them a chance. She went through the trouble to mail me books and she was pregnant with twins, so I got the feeling I should probably crack them open ASAP.
Of course, she was right. I lost myself in those books during my second and third trimesters. It’s possible they were the perfect pregnancy books. Soooo much better than What To Expect…
I’m not sure why pregnant women are attracted to Twilight, but my theory is that it’s because of that 25% additional blood volume we’re carrying around.
Regardless, I finished the third book right around the time it came out in the theater, but then didn’t see the movies at all. I promptly forgot all about Twilight, had Fuzzball, and ne’er did the names Edward/Bella/Jacob cross my thoughts for almost nine more months.
Then, the movies came up on my Netflix Queue. I watched them all in succession, then immediatley went to Hulu and watched a dozen or more interviews with Rob Pattinson and his lanky, pasty, hunk of self…having not even known his name a few hours prior.
All this between episodes of my toddler’s stomach flu.
My mind began to wander as I wiped the contents of my son’s gastrointestinal system off the floor and the furniture:
“I wonder what Rob is doing right now? Is he hunched over a beer at a hotel bar? Is he curled up asleep with his beloved?”
Then, when I went to bed, I had a sex dream about Robert Pattinson.
Holy smokes. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???
Is it the hormones? Can I blame this on breastfeeding?
I think when we are in a place we’d rather not be (knee-deep in throw-up) it is very easy to go to a place that we invent in our heads: This fantastical, wonderful, never have to clean-up other people’s bodily fluids kind of place. I’m not sure how that equates to Robert Pattinson, except in his sheepish grin, and yet unabashed love of underpants, as seen on Ellen below.
Meanwhile, the real prince charming of this story is the man who spent 9 hours being puked upon, changing, cleaning and cuddling with a very sad and sick little boy. He is the man I married 5 years ago. Some people in this house call him Daddy.
Photo Credit: Santi E/Flickr