It was a good morning this morning. The boss decided to be a darling and give each of us a half day off. I opted for the morning so I could sleep in, he for the afternoon. I came in at noon and he left for his half day.
If only I could do that every morning... I would be one happy camper!
I just sat down to do budgeting and finances and all of this was followed with a feeling of dread and a big sigh.
I am such a worry wort by nature. I worry about everything and I always have. I think I was the only 11 year old in my entire school to be diagnosed with an ulcer due to my constant stress and worry levels. I was probably the only 11 year old who even knew waht Maalox was.
And now, I am just worrying about everything. About health insurance once my job is over, about birth and everything going smoothly, about being able to see my family enough so that they get some time with the baby, about Dave supporting us and being able to pay all the bills once I am not working anymore, about whether or not my back will hold up these last six months and allow me to work until I pop...
People who don't understand say, why didn't you wait? Wait for what? Wait for Dave to be out of dental school in six years and I will be 29 and have to have all of my children (I want a big family) in one shot, that is IF the cysts in my ovaries hadn't grown back and been removed again, rendering my reproductive system useless?
No, I don't think so. I want our little family to start now. We are ready for it to start now, emotionally, physically, mentally... maybe not as much monetarily but we have faith and we will work hard and do what is neccessary to make sure our child gets all that he/she needs.
But I still worry... and I think I always will. Even when Dave's career is rolling along, the kids are in school, I am finished school and we can afford to take big expensive vacations.
I just wish that sometimes I could take a vacation from myself. From this mind that keeps me up at night and causes me ulcers at 11 years old. I wish I could just breathe and not stress about everything, be a little less neurotic.
But then, I guess I wouldn't be me.
And hey, my parents did it... had me, my mom wasn't finished school yet, she stayed at home in the one bedroom, teeny, tiny apartment on parent street to take care of us all day, and they barely got by... and people can say all they want that if WE had finished school FIRST, if we had saved some money first then our children would be a lot better off, blah, blah, blah...
but you know what? Mom and dad had me when they wanted me and when God wanted them to have me. And Katie a year later. And maybe affording us was a stress, but they were happy, and we grew up loved, well fed and happy. Perhaps not with an expensive car, or brand new clothes all the time, or long tropical vacations, or in beautiful luxurious homes, But we grew up with all the love in the world and still have all the love in the world.
And I came away with it with amazing memories. How fun it was to take the bus. How big of a treat McDonalds was to us (not like the kids I nannied who took for granted the most expensive of meals), How mom and I used to dance around the living room to Billy Joel, eat peanut butter from a spoon, sing along to records, play outside in the sun, while some of my friends were in daycare.
And I think "hey, if they can do it, so can we" and I know I am right, and I know everything will work out okay.
Now if only my heart can have a little one on one with that worrying part of my brain and explain things in a language it can understand.