Things that stress me out

I'm writing this post for two reasons.

First, a few weeks ago, I was chatting with some friends and they mentioned that they need to write in their journals more but that they only write the bad things in their journals and the good things on their blogs so people reading their journals are going to think they're super angry.  I do the same thing.  Then I thought, How silly.  I don't want my blog to be full of complaints and woe-is-me posts, but I also want it to be real--like my life is pretty good, but crappy things happen too that stress me out and make me want to vomit every time my phone makes any sort of noise.

And second, about a month ago I was preparing a lesson on adversity to the Laurels when I realized how much more my life sucked and was stressful in high school and college.  I felt like a little ball of stress with a huge stress cloud not only following me around but actually sitting on me.  And most of that stress was over whether or not I'd be able to finish my reading.  Now, as a super old and mature adult, when I have real problems--real things that could be of eternal significance, I don't feel like that any more.  Sure, the last few months, I've felt like I've been pulling around a little stress cloud, but it doesn't hang over me or sit on me like it use to.  Life is good despite the little cloud.  I've learned that it's all going to be ok.  Heavenly Father is there for me.  He always has been and always will be.  I do the best I can with the tools I have, and He makes up the rest.  And the older I get, and the more I test and try Him, the more I learn to just trust Him.  And it's all going to be ok.

Since June I've had two major things stressing me out.

First, baby.  I knew exactly who would (in theory) deliver this baby--Christine.  The amazing midwife who was supposed to deliver Alice had we made it to the birth center.  So I called and made an appointment with her.  Then I called the insurance company.  They don't cover her but I can get an in network exception if I get an in-network doctor to call the insurance company and refer me to her.  Just getting this information took several phone calls and just as many hours on the phone.  So I start my search for a in-network doctor who will do this for me.  After getting several no's, I finally found Dr. Cynthia Jamison.  I could kiss her.  She is completely understanding of my situation.  She and all her staff know my name and the names of my children.  She got me the in-network exception.  But not before I get a terrible call from my midwife--the birth center lost its license and had been closed down.  Hopefully (this was the first of September) it would reopen in a few weeks.  So I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Six weeks went by and I finally called Christine back.  The birth center still wasn't opened but she was operating independently as a home-birth midwife, but she can't deliver babies in North Carolina so we'd have to rent a hotel or an apartment in South Carolina for the birth.  Worth it.  We stuck with Christine and I worked out in my head how we would sneak in the back door of a hotel to birth a baby there.

Then it was time for the ultrasound.  For insurance purposes and thanks again to Dr. Jamison, I went to cancer screening center with a super weird tech who refused to commit to a gender despite very obvious features.  Two days later I get a call from Dr. Jamison telling me that the ventricles on the baby's head were measuring a bit large and she wanted the ultrasound redone by an OB/GYN and that I most likely would now have to have a hospital birth and possible a child with hydrocephalus.  So she makes the appointment for me, but it's a month away.  November 16.  I go to the appointment and make the mistake of telling them that I just wanted a follow-up ultrasound but wasn't yet prepared to transfer care to their practice until after we get the results from the ultrasound.  The nurse then politely tells me to leave since they don't just do ultrasounds (see why I hate doctors--why can't I just have a-la-cart medical care?  I'm pretty smart.  I can figure it out.)  I call Dr. Jamison and tell her what happens.  She gives me some advice and I call to make another appointment.  But they don't have one for another month (again, why I hate most doctor's offices--seriously a month?  You are soooo busy you can't see me for a month.  No thank you.  Dr. Jamison, by the way, always has time for me or my kiddos).  December 16 rolls around and Greg and I again make the 35 minute drive to the OB/GYN where we are asked the same annoying questions like a million times before being told that there is no room in the ultrasound schedule for another week.  We were both annoyed by this.  Finally, the Friday after Christmas we get the follow up ultrasound--it had been like 2 months of a little nagging, what if I have to deliver in a hospital?  How will I emotionally handle that?  I was not ok for a least a year after Rex was born.  Hospitals and me don't mix.  By the way, I was not worried about the baby at all, because I can handle a difficult baby and doctors seem to be a bit more concerned about just about everything than I think they should be.  I knew baby would be fine.  The problem was convincing the doctors that the baby was fine.  So, we get the ultrasound and guess what: baby is fine.  Oh, and did I add that the Saturday before Christmas I got the best call in the world from Christine: the birth center reopened!  And so now we have the doctors convinced that baby is fine and a place to have baby.  Now all I need to do it inventory my baby stuff and start shopping for the last few things.  Oh, and pick a name, but we'll get to that later.

Looking (butt) fat at Allen's wedding--somewhere in the early 20's week wise

On Christmas Eve (this is for Amber)--about 29 weeks.

Second, and this is the one that makes me want to puke everything my phone goes off for any reason.  Our house in Provo.  It all started in June when our upstairs tenets moved out.  Then I had to find new renters.  Which I did.  We got the deposit and the contract and things were great.  And then I went to Utah and saw the house, and it was not great.  And then my new tenet showed up and things were really not great.  She pointed out several things and basically said she would not be moving in.  So my mom, dad and I spent the next eight hours feverishly cleaning the house and trying to get into shape so she'd move in (this is after the 3 days I'd already spent cleaning up the garage and yard).  She moved in.  And she paid her rent.  But she continued to call me about this and that that was wrong.  And I started to avoid my phone.  September rolls around and the guy in the basement can only pay half his rent.  Then October and he can't pay any of it.  Luckily, he decides to move out so we don't have to evict him.  I post the apartment on Craigslist and spend two days on the phone with potential renters.  Then the girl upstairs calls and tells me what the downstairs looks like.  It's bad.  I take the post down and Greg books a flight to Utah--the weekend of his brother's wedding.  He gets there and finds that not only is the guy not out of the basement but that the ceiling in the bathroom is seriously bowed and is going to need to be replaced.  Greg drives to Las Vegas where I meet him for the wedding.  Greg goes back to Utah and ends up replacing the floor in the bathroom upstairs due to a leaking toilet and finds a tenet.

The floor upstairs rotting away

Major thank you to my brother's BYU ward--they cleaned the entire apartment top to bottom BYU cleaning check out style in less than two hours.  Because even though he was 2 1/2 months behind on rent, tenet didn't feel the need to clean before he left.

 Life was good.  But then the tenet can't pay his rent.  Two days and he can't pay it.  He's trying to get a non-profit organization to pay it.  So I spend hours on the phone with them and write five versions of the contract and wait.  In the meantime, homeboy gets drunk.  So drunk that the girl upstairs calls the police.  I wake up Sunday morning to a million texts and threats of moving out.  We resolve the issue and move on.  The rent finally comes.  And guess who gets drunk again and decides to do some home improvement at 2 am?  The police were called again.  This time I spent 3 days on the phone with various property managers and lawyers just to find out that there's not much I can do.  He's an adult; he can get drunk all he wants.  Then the girl upstairs calls about her bathtub clogging.  Then the guy downstairs makes a snow penis in the front yard.  Then there might be a gas leak...then he can't pay his rent...then it's going to cost $550 to fix the bathtub...then I just want to throw up.

But you know what?  It's all going to be ok.  Because Heavenly Father has been and always will be there for me and if I just trust him, things are going to be ok.  Not necessarily the way I had things planned, but the way He has things planned and His plans usually work out better than mine.  Just know if I don't answer the phone one day, it's because the sight of the phone makes me sick, not because I don't like you.