All Psyched Out

I'd really like to have another baby. In fact, I'd eventually like to have 6 or 7 kids. But I'm not too sure that'll happen, because it seems to be difficult for me to get pregnant.

I went and saw a doctor, and we figured the problem was that I wasn't ovulating. I took ovulation tests to confirm, but since I was moving to Oklahoma pretty much right away, I didn't get through all my ovulation days before I reported back to the doctor. I did get through all but one with no results, so we figured I wasn't ovulating. However, since then I've continued to use ovulation tests and I've realized that I probably ovulated the day after I saw the doctor (I've noticed a pattern, and that's probably what happened). So ovulation is most likely not the problem.

I haven't been to a doctor since I got to Oklahoma. My thinking was that, since I'd discovered that I wasn't ovulating on the schedule I'd previously thought, maybe I just kept missing my fertile days. I had assumed I was ovulating much earlier, and that's when we were trying, so we were not really trying on the days I actually WAS ovulating. So I thought I'd try to get pregnant on my own (with Ben's help of course), rather than go back to a doctor right away.

Now that my hope in having another baby has been restored, I've been psyching myself out. I tend to get early pregnancy symptoms, and then find out that I'm not actually pregnant. All I can figure is that I'm giving myself the symptoms or something.

So I'm feeling tired, sore, and a little nauseous. I have to pee all the time. And I feel like I'm sensitive to smells more than usual. I should be able to find out next week if I'm actually pregnant or not. But somehow I feel like I'm probably just tricking myself. It's been so long since we started trying again that it seems like it will never actually happen. Also, when I got pregnant with Evie, I didn't really feel that sick until a day or two after my missed period. I didn't even suspect I was pregnant - in fact, I was pretty sure that I wasn't. So pregnancy symptoms don't mean much for me, and the false symptoms are annoying.

On the other hand, I'm trying to have a positive attitude about things, which means I'm not so upset every month when I find out I'm not pregnant. How I figure it is, if I don't get pregnant, maybe I can be in Into The Woods at the local theater this summer. It would also make traveling to visit my family over the summer easier. Also, Ben is going to be really busy, and therefore NOT helpful with baby matters, this year. It'll probably be better to have a baby next year, when he has more free time.

All these reasons are the things I tell myself when I find out I'm not pregnant every month, to convince myself that it's okay. And it's really not a huge deal, I do have a little girl, after all, which is more than a lot of people have. And she's an angel, no trouble at all. I'm very blessed. So things really aren't so bad.

There's just a big part of me that's SO ready to have another child. Evie and Ben are ready, too - Evie loves the idea of being a big sister. Another baby would bring so much more joy to our already happy family. At the same time, though, we're already happier and more blessed than most people are. So I can't complain.

I just wish I could stop psyching myself out with false pregnancy symptoms! I'm really annoying myself.

The Trials of Life

So I was talking to Ben last night before bed (that's when I tend to have all my deep conversations with him, actually, and it drives him nuts because he's a morning person and gets very sleepy at night, even if we're talking), and I brought up one of my weird traits.

I have a tendency to be mildly pessimistic about things, as well as being a worry-wart. My attitude is this: If I fear the worst happening, then I'll be better prepared when it comes. That's not to say that I'll be immune to any suffering or pain, just that I won't have such a steep drop into despair. I would rather fear the worst and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn't happen, than hope for the best and have that hope crushed by tragedy.

This is a poor attitude to have, and I totally recognize that.

Anyway, I was talking about this with Ben last night, and I think maybe I've had some insights about myself.

I know that everybody has terrible stuff happen to them. I believe that God gives us these trials to make us stronger, and help us to learn and grow. So not only do I know that they'll probably happen to me, I expect them to. But I fear them all the same.

I realized that my attitude (pessimism, worrying) isn't just my way of trying to protect myself. Part of me hopes that if I hold back and don't let myself be completely happy, that perpetual mild misery will be enough of a trial in my life and I won't have to face any others.

It's crazy, I know. I fully understand that. But I believe that my subconscious was hoping that it was true anyhow.

I don't fear going through bad things personally. I believe that if something happened to me (a lingering illness, a severe injury, even being raped) I would be able to bounce back from it eventually. I have an incredible support system in my family, not to mention friends and church members. I'm not saying I want to go through anything like that, but I know that if I did I would survive. I would be able to someday move on. I don't fear death, either, because I know that I have loved ones, as well as a Father in Heaven who loves me more than anything, waiting for me on the other side. And I know that eventually I would have my husband and children there with me, and that our marriage and our family would continue forever. That faith means that - again, while I have no desire to die any time soon - I'm not afraid of death.

At least, I'm not afraid of MY death. I am, however, afraid of the death of the people I love. Living without them would be insanely painful, even knowing that they're well and happy and in a better place.

So, my greatest fears involve bad things happening to the people I love. I worry that my darling baby girl will die young, without having known the joys of marriage, of motherhood, of discovering who she is. I worry that she'll be gravely injured, and spend the rest of her life with disabilities that prevent her from living her life to the fullest. I worry that she'll get sick, and be in constant pain, and spend her time wondering why her mother can't save her (because, let's face it, kids think their parents are superheroes and can do anything). I worry that a stranger will steal her away, and that she'll be put through pain, humiliation, and torture.

She's not the only person I worry about, either. I worry about my brothers, that they'll get into some freak accident and die (most likely pulling one of their crazy stunts), and that I won't have had the chance to say good-bye to them and let them know how much I love them, how much joy they've brought to my life, how proud I am of them. I worry that my parents will die and that my little brother, who's only eight, will have to come live with me and that I won't be able to comfort him and take care of him and he'll grow up to be completely screwed up. I worry that my gorgeous little sister will get kidnapped, or raped, or killed by some pervert, and that I won't be able to do anything to help her. I worry that my husband will crash his plane, or get shot down overseas, and that they'll never find his body and I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if he's alive and being tortured as a prisoner of war, always hoping that I'll see him again in this life, never having closure. I worry that he'll die or be gravely injured and it'll be up to me to provide for our family, as well as take care of the children, and that I won't be able to do it all. I worry that my amazing brothers, the ones who are struggling with their faith, will give up on God and the Church and decide that they're not good enough, that God doesn't care about them anyway. In some ways that's the least of my fears, because I know these are amazing young men and I know for a fact that they are already some of the best, strongest, and (in fact) most faithful men on the planet. They just haven't recognized it themselves. But I don't worry too much because I know that they'll get there, they're too good not to. At the same time, though, this is one of my greatest fears. What if they never realize their worth? What if they fall into despair, hit rock bottom, and can't find their way out again? What if their lives get worse and worse until they don't even remember what real happiness feels like? That would be the greatest tragedy of all.

Wow, I'm totally rambling on. The point: I worry. A LOT. Not for me necessarily, but for the people I love.

So as I said, subconsciously I seem to think that if I can put enough fear and worry on myself, I'll save the people around me from suffering.

I never said it made a lot of sense.

As I was telling all of this to Ben, trying to explain myself, I started to see all the flaws in this attitude. Trials are necessary, and not every trial changes (or needs to change) every person who's affected by it. Ben, for example, is a worry-free optimist. So other than having to listen to my ramblings late at night, how does my putting trials on myself help him to learn and grow? It doesn't. The only person affected by these self-inflicted trials is me. Even if they do somehow provide what I need to become the person God wants me to be (which I doubt), they're not going to help anyone else. And pretty much any trial that affects the people I love will affect me, too. Which means that they're going to happen anyway, and I'm going to be a part of them.

People will get sick. People will have money problems. People will get injured, or have their hearts broken. People will die. I can't protect myself from this, much less the people around me.

So why bother being pessimistic and worried all the time? Granted, being cynical might steel my heart for whatever pain is inflicted on it, but is it worth the cost? Isn't it better to let yourself feel the pure joys in life to their fullest, rather than hold back "just in case" you might get hurt?

I lead an insanely happy life. I count myself among the most fortunate people in the world, because I'm perpetually surrounded by people who love me. I'll never be like the people on TV shows, the ones who have no friends or family and end up dying alone. I'll never suffer by myself. Any hard thing I have to go through, I'll have people who care about me surrounding and supporting me. Not only that, but I have the Savior holding my hand and helping to shoulder my burden when things get so bad that I can't move forward anymore. It's like that Footprints poem. The hardest parts of life, when we think we'll go crazy with despair, when we can't stand up straight, let alone walk - that's when Christ carries us. We're never really alone.

So my new goal is to live my life to the fullest. No more steeling my heart, no more holding back my joy, no more worrying about the pain my life will bring. Yes, I will go through a lot of pain in my life. But if I allow it, I'll go through even more happiness. There's no good reason to let trials, or the fear of trials, ruin your life. God wants us to be happy, so from now on I'm going to do my best to ensure that I feel that happiness in every possible moment of my life.

After all, "...men are that they might have joy." (2 Nephi, 2:25)

Princesses and Pirates

Evie loves princesses. She has about 20 princess costumes and accessories. She has a princess couch, princess chair, princess bedspread, several princess books, all the Disney princess movies, all but one of the Disney princess Barbie dolls, and a whole multitude of other princess paraphernalia. She's always telling me which princess she is for the day, and practically lives in her costumes. She watches princess movies all the time. She listens to and sings their songs all day long. Her greatest ambition in life is to be a real-life princess.

Until now.

Suddenly, somewhere along the past week or so, Evie decided that she'd rather be a pirate. Yes, folks, you heard me correctly. A PIRATE.

I have no idea where she got this from.

There has been the occasional reference to pirates in shows she watches and books she reads, but they are few and far between. I don't know why she suddenly latched on to the pirating world so firmly. I'm not sure she even knows what a pirate IS. But suddenly, she only wants to read pirate books and wear pirate clothes.

It's kind of hilarious. If I tell her, "You're my favorite girl" she says "No I'm a pirate. I'm Pirate Evie". That's pretty much what she insists I call her these days.

The other day we were in the car, and I was telling her that boys and girls are different. I said "Daddy's a boy, and Mommy and Evie are girls!" Her response was, "No. Daddy's a boy, Mommy's a girl, and Evie's a pirate." I bet you didn't know that "pirate" is another gender, like "boy" and "girl". Makes you wonder, doesn't it?

So now my cute baby girl, the gorgeous sweetheart who used to introduce herself as "Princess Evie", has become "Pirate Evie". She wears the rattiest clothes she has (which, let's face it, aren't very ratty), and she says "Arr!" a lot. And I have to change all the princess stories I read to her to pirate stories. Her favorite is Princess Penelope's Parrot, which has become Pirate Penelope's Parrot.

What a little weirdo. Totally cute, totally funny, and completely weird.

I think she gets it from her uncles and aunt. They're obsessed with pirates, too.

Although, I can't complain. Better a pirate than a ninja!

The Whole Kitten Caboodle

When we went to the shelter the other day to adopt our cat, Chewy (short for Chewbacca), the volunteer working there told me a great story.

Apparently in the adult cat room, there are a couple of kitties who can be a little dramatic. One of them, Romilda*, spends all day lounging in her litter box. Now, I realize this sounds really gross, but you have to understand something. She doesn't do her business in her litter box. When nature calls, she walks over to Honey Bucket's* litter box and does the deed in there. Needless to say, this irritates Honey Bucket to no end.

So the other day, Honey Bucket was watching Romilda carefully for a chance to exact some revenge. Romilda got up momentarily to do something cat-ish on the other side of the room, and Honey Bucket didn't waste any time. She dashed into Romilda's litter box and left a big, fat, smelly present right in the middle of Romilda's living room, much like Todd Packer did to Michael Scott on The Office. She didn't even cover it up, like she normally would. No, Honey Bucket left her gift laying out in plain sight for Romilda to enjoy.

Romilda, of course, was immensely offended. The volunteer at the shelter immediately cleaned it up, but that wasn't good enough for Romilda. She spent the rest of the day hissing and spitting at Honey Bucket, who retaliated by looking extremely satisfied with herself.

The moral of the story: Cats are drama queens. No surprise there.

* - Names have been changed to protect the identity of the cats involved. And because I don't remember their real names. =D

This is our new cat, Chewy! He's not a drama queen. In fact,
the volunteer at the shelter said he thinks he's a dog. Go figure.

Precocious

I haven't written anything for awhile, so I thought I'd just put this little story in here. I've already posted it on Facebook, but not all my blog friends are on Facebook. So now they can hear it, too. :) This is a conversation I had with Evie a couple of nights ago:


EVIE: Mama! I want juice!

ME: (picking her up and walking over to the mirror) Let's look at our teeth. (baring our teeth in the mirror) They're so strong and healthy, and great for chewing food! Juice is good for our bodies during the day, but when we're going to sleep at night, it's better to drink water. Juice gets sugar on your teeth and if you sleep like that your teeth will turn brown and hurt your mouth. Then the dentist, like the one on "Nemo", has to poke your mouth (me poking her mouth) and drill your teeth (insert buzzing noises here) and pull out your pretty teeth! If we drink water before we go to sleep, our teeth stay healthy and strong, and we can still chew our food! So water is best at bedtime.

EVIE: Juice hurts teeth?

ME: It's okay during the day, but if you drink it when you're going to sleep it will hurt your teeth, yes.

EVIE: Drink water and have healthy teeth?

ME: That's right.

EVIE: Water at bedtime?

ME: Yes! So do you want me to go fill your sippy cup with cold water?

EVIE: (thinking it over) ... Juice!


What a stinker!