You Worry Too Much :: 31 Days of Motherhood

I never worried so much about nothing until I became a Mom. 

If pressed to think about it, this worry started the minute I peed on that stick and saw the word "pregnant" flash before my eyes. "But what about that glass of wine I drank last week?" "Am I eating enough vegetables?" "I forgot to take my vitamins two days in a row!" "But I ate a Home Depot hot dog!" (True story).

The list could go on and that's worrying even before my kids were born. In other words, I worry about my kids even before there is anything to worry about.

Once they're born? That's a whole other enchilada. "Don't run too fast." "Don't walk too slow." "Don't put that in your mouth." "Eat this not that!"    

Sometimes, I feel like I am the only one who worries like this and I blame it all on being a mother. My husband? Doesn't worry nearly as much as I do. In fact, he's always telling me, "Relax, babe!" He's fine!" It's OK! You worry too much."

But the question is, "do I?" Do I really worry too much?

As a mother I feel like I'm blessed with super powers. Super powers that allow me to run on pure adrenaline and little night's sleep day after week after day. Super powers that allow me to tune out the incessant whining while I'm trying to make someone's lunch, rock the baby and cook dinner all at the same time. 

Super powers that allow me to see the future. 

By this last one, I mean that as a mother I'm able to predict events happening days, weeks, even months before they occur.

Take for instance the fact that, as a mom, I knew the glass-top kitchen table wasn't a good idea to keep in the house once Carter could walk. So? we moved it out the garage for safe storage, thinking that perhaps we'd set it back up when Carter moved out of the house. 

It reappeared a few times for parties now and again but always made it's way back out to the garage for safe keeping. Until August when we hosted Carter's birthday party and needed an extra table for food. 

Despite my pleading, it never made it back to the garage this time. Someone insisted we keep it set up in the kitchen so that we didn't have to always sit in the dining room for dinner. Someone shall remain unnamed so that I don't completely throw that someone under the bus. 

However, from the moment that glass-top table stayed in the kitchen I saw things. I saw Carter running into it and slicing his head open. I saw Sheepie knocking it over as he lumbered beneath it to find a safe place to hide from the toddler. I saw Carter bumping his head on it as he tried to "vroom" his cars across it. 

By the grace of god, Carter never sliced his head open regardless of the number of times he bumped his head on it. Each time he did, however, I would ask that the table PLEASE be moved to the garage. 

Why? Because I saw things. 

Today? Carter pushed the entire glass top of the table to the floor, shattering it into a million jagged pieces. He didn't know any better and I was three feet from him when he did it. It only took a matter of seconds. Thank God he didn't get hurt. Thank God Sheepie wasn't laying beneath the table. Thank God. Thank God. Thank God. 

But I'll say it again. I knew this was going to happen.

You can't ever tell me I worry too much. That's what makes me a Mom.