It’s a boy! It’s a girl! It’s…corn pudding?

A word of advice, my friends. Don’t give birth in a City Barbecue if you can help it.

Not saying that I have given birth in a City Barbecue, nor do I have any plans to do so. I will tell you where this idea came from, though. One word: Tamiflu.

I have been crazy stupid sick, y’all. Thankfully, this time around I got my butt to the doctor pretty quickly and was able to get Tamiflu. So I’ve spent the last few days on my couch in a binge watching coma trying to determine what (if anything) I can eat or drink without aggravating my stomach.

Whenever I’m sick, I tend to have insane dreams. And that’s saying something, because my dreams in non-sick times are already pretty weird. My illness inspired dreams are on a whole other level.

So as previously mentioned, I dreamed that I was pregnant and going into labor. For some reason, The Husband was not around to take me to the hospital, so I had to call a squad. The ambulance crew — probably because I’m pretty sure my stomach was growling in my sleep — decided I needed City Barbecue more than a hospital. So they pulled over and decided I was having my baby there.

Dream Me was, of course, outraged at this thought. So they decided the solution was to drape everything in white so that it looked more like a hospital. And they did at least have the decency to clear out the restaurant so I could have some privacy.

I still don’t recommend it, though.

The one plus side I could see to this scenario was that I’d have easy access to Cheerwine and corn pudding as soon as the baby came out. That part might be nice. But I think I’d prefer to have pain medication and a hospital bed, thank you.

How are y’all feeling? Have you managed to avoid the flu? Ever had any crazy dreams while feeling under the weather? Tell me about it in the comments. I’m gonna go check to see where my closest City Barbecue is located.