I am a worrier. I know it isn't helpful to worry about things over which I have no control. It really isn't helpful to make up things to worry about, either. But, I do both of these things. I sometimes can't sleep because I am worrying about things. Last week, as we were going to bed, I mentioned to Allen that I was worrying about something. I won't tell you the specifics, but it was along the lines of: if A happens, then B could happen, which would surely cause C to happen, which would be terrible. Allen, of course, told me that I was being ridiculous, since if A and B happened, C wouldn't happen or wouldn't be that big of a deal, anyway. That was fine. The problem was Allen's next comment, "If you want something to worry about....worry about where we are going to put all of our stuff. Worry about how we are getting to Italy. Worry about where we are going on block leave." Why, oh why did he feel the need to give me MORE to worry about? My made up worries were causing enough problems!
Ashlyn has begun a possessive stage. Everything is "mine." She tells the dog that her food is "mine." She calls me "my mommy." She does this with just about everything. This morning we may have reached the limit, when I smelled something suspicious. I checked out her diaper, and she said,"no, my poop." Yeah, definitely not ready for potty training.