Why I need coffee

I snuck in a quick nap with Baby Boy this afternoon. By quick, I mean I may have been out for 10 minutes. I could have used more sleep but I woke up after having a bizarre dream of people I really only know of.

And let me preface this by saying I fell asleep watching an Oprah re-run; the infamous one with tom Cruise jumping on her yellow leather chesterfield.

In my dream, Katie Holmes was on some red carpet tugging at the arm of a very unshaven Tom Cruise. Thinking, "That girl is smiling a mite too hard" I look closer behind her and there are plastic surgeons holding her together. One of these doctors takes off her mask and it's Brooke Shields holding a uterus.

I, in turn, step forward and take this uterus and give it to Tom Cruise. "Here," I said. "Shall we transplant this one in you or do we wait for you to grow one? Maybe after that, and when you go through all the physical, mental and emotional pain you get from babymaking, then I can stand to hear your opinions on post partum depression." My breasts start to leak milk and I can even feel the once-familiar dampness in my dream.

And then Tom Cruise morphs into James Van Der Beek.