Transition and Teeth

The last few weeks have flown by, and several times I have attempted to sit down and blog. Then something happens, it's past midnight, and well, I don't care anymore about anything other than sleep. Now, one month ago, I received an email that made me slightly nauseous. It was entitled: Itinerary for Cambodia flight from LA. For the first time in all of this, it really hit me. I. am. moving. WHAT!?! Although I am a little ashamed, I'm not going to lie, I had a mild panic attack. All I saw was the plethora of home repairs, administrative tasks, and boxes upon boxes of things to be done before the impending move. Then I saw all of the faces of everyone I'll have to hug goodbye for a little while. Ugh. So, yeah, I kind of freaked out. My oh-so-patient husband gently reminded me to hand it over to God. I did, eventually, but not before trying to figure it all out at that very moment. You know, because one can solve every problem in their world in a matter of 25 minutes. Yes, pity and pray for Bradley. I keep telling everyone that I need prayers the most out of the four of us. People think I'm joking. I'm not. Usually, I adjust well to change, but the transition before the change...um...well...not so much. Jonathan would give away his lifetime supply of bread in order to make this move (if you know Jonathan, you know that's a big deal); Marissa is such a faithful, go-with-the-flow type of gal, that she puts me to shame {how many mothers do you know who are completely fine going to a foreign country with little ones = FAITH}; and Bradley, my happy-go-lucky, give-you-the-shirt-off-his-back {literally, he would} type of guy. Oh, and then there's me. Me and my personality that's more along the lines of "why isn't plan A going as smoothly as I want," and "um, I'm going to have peanut butter in Cambodia, right?" I'm leaning heavily on my ability to be entertaining with all of my quirks, 'cause that's all I got goin' for me right now. ;o)  Back to transition: it feels as if everything in my life is in transition right now. My home is a construction zone; the parts of my home not under construction are being cleared away bit by bit; my work week is changing every few weeks as my employers ween both me and the boys from one another {insert tears and heartache}; my business {Flirting with Fonts - totally advertising myself} is in the process of a complete makeover, with Wesley giving my website a facelift, and me trying to decide what goes, what stays, what FwF no longer desires to do, etc.; financial situation --> totally changing; and boxes are replacing decorations.

The week after the tickets were purchased, I was doing well with letting go of the many things I cannot control right now, and was focusing on accomplishing what was within my grasp. Then, sitting at dinner, I bit into a tostada, and felt something strange. I was fearful that I'd chipped my front, bottom tooth, but was hoping it was just the texture of the tostada messing with my senses. However, one look in the mirror revealed that I had indeed increased the gap in my bite. For some, this would only be a minor set back, but for someone who has always taken good care of her teeth, I was pretty frustrated. Although my TMJD has altered them, my teeth are naturally straight, and I've been blessed to never deal with cavities. Plus, I'm one of those annoying people who loathes self imperfections. An "A" for someone else is great, but for me, all I see is that it isn't an "A+." The upside to this situation, is that in this far away country, in which I plan to live, they have amazing dental work. Here's hoping my teeth stay in tact until I can let a Cambodian dentist have their way with these sparkling whitish, slightly chipped beauties. Most people who dream about their teeth falling out are dealing with empty nest syndrome or money troubles. Not me. I'm literally worried about my teeth falling out of my head. On that note, I'm going to grab my extremely sexy mouthpiece and head to bed. Praying for a calm spirit and strong teeth.