And we've ticked up the roller coaster, and are ready for the free fall.

I'm a planner.

I planned to go to college, get a degree in four years, and then go to graduate school.  I did that.  I planned to be teacher. I did that.  When I decided that Mr. Meat and Potatoes was the one, I married him, and then decided it was time for a baby and we did that too. What I can control, I like to control.  That means I can usually say with *some* certainty what any day, week, month, or year will look like.

Of course, that is barring things outside of my control, which I have completely surrendered to in life.  I stand waist deep in the "shit happens" camp.  I realize that there things - many things - some good, some not-so, that happen regardless of my plans.  And I'm good with that.  In fact, I like it.  How dull it would be, knowing all the time exactly what to expect and being the puppeteer of all of it.

So when last week happened, I said, "okay."  Last week, nothing was in the plan.  None. Of. It.

It started with my boss's mom.  You see, she died.  They didn't expect her to die.  And it just so happened that she died in the same week where the only other person in my office (there are only 3 of us) was on vacation.  That left little ole me at the helm, alone.  No biggie. I've done it before. I can do that.

And then I decided on Tuesday that I was tired of feeling crappy, and the doctors don't know squat, and I sent my husband out for a pregnancy test because I wanted to put that possibility aside before I made an appointment and went in to read everyone from my GP to my OB to the Urologist the riot act.  I mean, I couldn't be pregnant, because I'd had all kinds of sonograms two weeks ago and was assured by the sonographer and my doctor that nope, no babies in there.  My pain and problems had another source.

Since they'd never identified the source of my malaise to my satisfaction, I was gonna take that test and then go in guns blazing.

Except, the sonographer was wrong.  Hello, positive.  Hello REALLY REALLY STRONG POSITIVE.  Positive before the pee even hit the stick, if you know what I mean.  Apparently, I'm more than a little pregnant.

This, my friends, was not in the plan.  But, I'm cool right?  Okay, I'm pregnant.  I had had a hard time really coming to terms with the "one and done" thing anyway, much as I tried to talk myself into it.  This is a happy, happy thing.  I'M HAVING ANOTHER BABY!

So I'm getting used to that idea, wrapping my brain around the logistics of baby #2, mulling over names and decor in my head (shaddup, I can't help it).  I'm going to doctor appointment after appointment making sure that everything is okay in there - I had concerns because of all the pain I had and am still having.  Apparently it's fairly common in the first weeks of pregnancy. Implantation, apparently, can hurt.  Also my uterus is twice its normal size now.  That can hurt, too.

As I race around hither and yon to doctors and lab visits (three blood draws in two days! Yay!) and start telling people our news, whilst trying to hold down the fort at work singlehandedly and enduring a Mock Joint Commission survey of our facility, another bit of unexpected news arrived.

New job.  That's right, I got a job offer.  I'm going to be the new Director of Education at Ballard Community Center, and I start in two weeks.  No problem!  Wrap up everything at current job, be stupid first-trimester tired, adjust to whole new world view in terms of work and family, RIGHT NOW.  Got it.

Also, figure out what to do about the fact that new job won't extend benefits until after the 90 day mark and well, I'm pregnant.  So health insurance in the next 90 days? Would be nice.

These are all things not in the plan.  Last week was an exercise in "accept that which I cannot control."  And you know what? I'm fine.  So far.  So far, I'm happy and giddy and tired and excited and ready for an entirely new chapter in my life.  Leaving LMH is heartbreaking in many ways.  Upsetting my simple family of three dynamic is scary.  Adding the financial responsibility let alone the physical and mental strain of another child on top of our already busy lives (yes, I plan to keep freelancing as much or more than ever) is daunting, to say the least.

But it is all. good. stuff.

Some things will go out, new things will come in.  And that, my friends, is how we keep it interesting.  Boring, to me, is suicide.  Bring it on.