The Sweetest Gift, A Mother's Smile
Worrying over our kids... for some of us it's a constant. For some of us, it's this huge, terrible monster that hides in the closet. We know it's there, we see it's shape. Only when it comes out do we see it in all it's glory and we spend hours with it there in front of us, appalled and yet, we still cannot look away.
A person who worries are they might be going too far with the worrying? Do they know the monster so well that it doesn't even go BACK into the closet? It just lurks at the end of the bed, waiting for the bell.
Ahh, well. There's the opposite of worrying. Not worrying. And for me, that would be the worst. The epitome of a shitty parent. Better to be over cautious than to not care at all, I suppose. And so I try to give in to it, roll it around in my hands a few times and then let it go. Some of us, though, like my friend JR, have a real, tangible worry that takes up a huge portion of their minds, and with them, I sympathize. There's no thinking it out, the logical ends of her worries. No rationalizing with herself that there really is no danger there. Because, yes, there really is danger there. And if I had a magic wand, it would be on the top of my list to remove said danger from the lives of all kids.
When I was just a wee version of my over-analytical self, we lived 60 miles from the nearest town. When we went grocery shopping, it was usually a family excursion. And one of my clearest memories is standing at my dad's shoulder (yes, I can remember standing in the seat next to my dad, while the car was moving, speaking of worrying, my god, i'm amazed i never went through the windshield). Anyway, as I was saying, I can remember standing there singing to him, directly in his ear while he drove "Let's all go to the Dairy Queen". Thus began my eternal love of frozen dairy products. It's a tradition that I carry on with my own and I'll be damned if I can't hear my own voice singing it as he begs me to go "Pleeeease, before we leave town".
And herein lies the danger JR lives with. Her daughter would die upon eating at a Dairy Queen, literally. She is allergic to nuts (peanuts send her into anaphylactic shock) and she is allergic to dairy products and, and.... and my heart breaks for this little angel who treads so carefully through the kindergarten halls of life, pb & j sandwich remnants covering classmates' hands, faces and tabletops. The brave little soldier and her ever worrying mother. My heart and my prayers go out to them.
Work is busy. Life is busy. Talking with my mother today about all sorts of things. We talked for 2 and 1/2 hours. My goodness, not like I don't drive practically TO her house everyday to go to work. Childhood came up, life and all it's miseries. How you can give and give and give and life still bites you in the ass. That nothing will ever be perfect. She's depressed. I think I might try to find her one of those season lights. The ones that are supposed to bring you out of depression. Hopefully it will help. She's having a pretty rough time of it and I really hate that I don't have that fucking magic wand to make everything better for everyone and anyone I care about, goddammit! I really want to. Sometimes it just feels like everything is all wrong and.... yuck. *sigh* It must be December.
A person who worries are they might be going too far with the worrying? Do they know the monster so well that it doesn't even go BACK into the closet? It just lurks at the end of the bed, waiting for the bell.
Ahh, well. There's the opposite of worrying. Not worrying. And for me, that would be the worst. The epitome of a shitty parent. Better to be over cautious than to not care at all, I suppose. And so I try to give in to it, roll it around in my hands a few times and then let it go. Some of us, though, like my friend JR, have a real, tangible worry that takes up a huge portion of their minds, and with them, I sympathize. There's no thinking it out, the logical ends of her worries. No rationalizing with herself that there really is no danger there. Because, yes, there really is danger there. And if I had a magic wand, it would be on the top of my list to remove said danger from the lives of all kids.
When I was just a wee version of my over-analytical self, we lived 60 miles from the nearest town. When we went grocery shopping, it was usually a family excursion. And one of my clearest memories is standing at my dad's shoulder (yes, I can remember standing in the seat next to my dad, while the car was moving, speaking of worrying, my god, i'm amazed i never went through the windshield). Anyway, as I was saying, I can remember standing there singing to him, directly in his ear while he drove "Let's all go to the Dairy Queen". Thus began my eternal love of frozen dairy products. It's a tradition that I carry on with my own and I'll be damned if I can't hear my own voice singing it as he begs me to go "Pleeeease, before we leave town".
And herein lies the danger JR lives with. Her daughter would die upon eating at a Dairy Queen, literally. She is allergic to nuts (peanuts send her into anaphylactic shock) and she is allergic to dairy products and, and.... and my heart breaks for this little angel who treads so carefully through the kindergarten halls of life, pb & j sandwich remnants covering classmates' hands, faces and tabletops. The brave little soldier and her ever worrying mother. My heart and my prayers go out to them.
Work is busy. Life is busy. Talking with my mother today about all sorts of things. We talked for 2 and 1/2 hours. My goodness, not like I don't drive practically TO her house everyday to go to work. Childhood came up, life and all it's miseries. How you can give and give and give and life still bites you in the ass. That nothing will ever be perfect. She's depressed. I think I might try to find her one of those season lights. The ones that are supposed to bring you out of depression. Hopefully it will help. She's having a pretty rough time of it and I really hate that I don't have that fucking magic wand to make everything better for everyone and anyone I care about, goddammit! I really want to. Sometimes it just feels like everything is all wrong and.... yuck. *sigh* It must be December.
posted by Lori | 6:33 AM
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