Confession: I am an extreme worrier.
I have mentioned before, in small snippets, my tendency to worry.
People who know me and know me well probably do not how much I worry about, well everything. I would say the only people who know the full encompassing depth and breadth of my worrywartedness are Josh and my mom.
When I was in college I used to send my mom emails in the middle of the night with my worries. I remember one in particular about acquiring health insurance post graduation. This seems like a normal worry, but I sent this email in my sophomore year at Salisbury University.
When I was pregnant I worried about how I would ween my unborn baby from pacifiers. In the end, Pman does not even LIKE pacifiers, so I worried for nothing.
As odd as it sounds, it kind of comforts me to worry. I'm not sure if it is because I do it so much that I am accustomed to the pit in my stomach and my brain being too pre-occupied with problems I cannot solve to deal with the immediate pending ones.
For example, I have mini panic attacks when I think of Parker driving while texting. However, the other day I was making mashed potatoes. As I slightly washed and peeled the potatoes Pmoney sat at my feet in the kitchen playing with the tupperware. As arrant slivers of potato peel fluttered to the ground in front of Pfunk, he would pick them up and put them in his mouth. I let him do this. I watched as he put these chokeable, mostly dirty, kitchen floor scraps in his mouth only to promptly spit them out. Each time making a face that clearly communicated "Yucky!"
Another time I was out with some friends and handed Pmoney a tortilla chip. One of my friends, who is not yet a mommy, said, "Can he have those?" I said, "We'll find out."
P.S. He was not a fan, odd.
I let him do these things all the time. I let him figure things out. Some mom's say that I seem so relaxed and at ease with this mothering thing. Secretly, I know that since I am consumed by worry over whether or not I will like the person he marries, who has time to think about potato peels?!
About two months ago my friend and I decided to join the same pool and enroll our boys in the same swim class. Since we came up with this plan I have worried about how Pman's nap time will be affected by joining a pool. It's insane. Who cares if his nap time is thrown off? He will be swimming! I was up for almost 2 hours last night trying to plan out our summer days in my head.
I was so focused on getting Pmoney in this swim class, that I signed him up before we even officially joined the pool. Huh? I'm still not sure how I did that, but there you have it.
I realize that this in a natural ingrained trait. Some people are worriers and some are not. However, I think I have been influenced by an outside source. A source that scares the crap out of me, but I still partake in. A source that I know has been edited and dramatized in an effort to pump up ratings. This source is Nanny 911. Have you seen it? If not Super Nanny has the same effect on me.
I watch each show by myself like some sort of junkie or closet eater. I get my fix while Pman takes his nap. I sit on my couch, shoulders tense and they are located somewhere up by my ears. My mouth is tight and my jaw is clenched, like when you see someone do something that you know hurt like hell, like slamming their head into something or closing their fingers in the car door. My eyes are the size of dinner plates and I dare not blink so as to drink in all the mayhem without missing a beat.
There seems to be two running themes:
1. The kids need to know the parents run the house.
2. Routine and consistency are vital to a happy home.
Since number 1 seems impossible- how can I take charge when I have no idea what I'm doing? I guess I'm suppose to fake it? Parker has 3 teeth (almost 4) two on the bottom and (almost) 2 on top. He is trying to figure out his teeth and therefore is kind of bitey. One time he bit me and I looked him straight in the face, held his little hands together and said, sternly "Parker, NO biting." Whereupon he stuck out his little lower lip and started crying. While he has not bit me since, I felt so bad for making him cry that I hugged him and ended up apologizing. I apologized to HIM. What?!
Anyway, since #1 does not seem to be going too well at the moment with our nearly 11 month old, I feel I have to grip on and hold tight to the second item on the list, thus explaining my obession and worry. This does explain it right?
In order to cope with this day to day I just repeat to myself- Just do what feels right. It is my mommy mantra.
A friend of mine told me I should write a book about being a mommy. I said it would be one page and that one page would say-
Do what feels right. Forget everything else.
If something feels wrong, it probably is. In the end you are the one who has to deal with any immediate outcome.
P.S. If you are a worrier and a new mommy or about to be a mommy, don't watch Nanny 911. It's terrifiying.
He started physical therapy the other day and went back to work. He is slated to get his new tooth in about a week and a half. Things are looking up you would think? However, when the cast was taken off and the staples were removed, it seems 2 staples were left behind by mistake. I mean really.