My dad knows about this blog, but I don't think he reads it too much--he'd rather hear it from me than read about it. But if he saw the title of this post, he'd be inclined to read on.
He was the first one to notice that I chew the insides of my cheeks: a) when I'm thinking really hard about something; b) stressed out; c) feeling guilty
We'd be in the middle of a conversation, and I'd hear "Quit chewing your cheeks--what's bothering you?"
Well Dad, quite a bit.
I only noticed I was chewing because I haven't done it in a long time. My mouth starts to get sore, because Im moving and shifting my face muscles so much. I know, this isn't the most glamorous thing to read about, but it's the best way I know how to describe the state of mind I've been in the past few days. Or should I say, state of cheek...
Reason #1 for Cheek Chewing:
Mook was scheduled to have minor surgery on Tuesday. Long story short: his parents refused to believe that he had heart burn at the tender age of 16, and as a result of not taking him to the doctor then, we are now either dealing with an intestinal tear or worse. We finally arranged for our general practitioner to schedule the surgery with a gastro-doc (after months of useless pills). Well, wouldn't ya know they gave us the wrong prep schedule. This was simply the appointment to make the appointment. Yea, I know-complete crap. Dr. Gastro said he needed to meet Mook first, and make sure it wasn't just heartburn. Did you read his medical chart, a-hole?! When he told us that "this happens a lot--people come in thinking they are having surgery" I wanted to scream "Don't you think you need to fix that?!"
Dr. Gastro said he is definitely concerned, and Mook needs to have surgery ASAP. His definition of ASAP is July 1st. Poor Mook--Im surprised he hasn't given up all hope when it comes to doctors. First that, and now this...
Reason #2 for Cheek Chewing:
Money, ya'll. We thought we had a loan all figured out, and it's just come crashing down. I hate that Mook and I snap at each other because of money. I haven't had reason to really pay attention to the mortgage rates and the real estate market, because we weren't planning on moving/selling. Now I care a lot because it's affecting the loan amount/line of credit we qualify for. The last 30 minutes at work yesterday was spent starring at the wall...and guess what I was doing: chewing the crap out of my cheeks. I swear it makes me think harder and smarter. I've got a few more things to try, but I'm scarred about our financial future. Even scarier is the fact that we have no guarantee that this loan will bring us any closer to our dream. It makes me sick to think about...
Reason #3 for Cheek Chewing:
I don't even really know how to put this into words, but I've thought it for a long time: I can't imagine myself pregnant. I feel guilty about it...it sounds so simple to say, but I cannot grasp the fact that I will experience this gift. I see the new ultrasounds of blog buddies who are seeing their baby for the first time, and I can't even wrap my head around the fact that I could have that. I don't feel like I've expressed this properly, but it has made for some serious cheek chewing time. Since I have never even seen the slightest shade of a 2nd line on a HPT, I have no knowledge of what that feeling is like. Maybe I should compare it to your first kiss: you never thought it would happen; all you could do was daydream about what you saw in the movies. But when it did happen...I bet you can't even find the words to describe how you felt.
So Daddy, I've had some deep thoughts, stress, and guilt. The next time we talk on the phone, I expect you to snap me out of it and tell me to: "Go gettum tiger!" I want to get out of this cheek-chewing phase, and be positive! I can't have the NaComLeavMo'ers think I'm a Debbie Downer...but tell me ladies (and gents): do you chew, bite, kick, scream when you are stressed?
I have my baseline ultrasound later this morning...not to brag, but check out my RE's star-studded staff!
Oh! Isn't it good luck if a bird poops on you? Well, it didnt actually poop on me but it pooped on my windshield this morning. Having bird poo fly at you at 60 miles an hour is disgusting.
Hmm, I wrote a note to myself yesterday for a blog post: Temptation. Now I have no idea why I wrote it down. Am I tempted to throw in the towel? Am I tempted to cry? Am I tempted to eat all the chocolate in my house?