I was doing a blog interview for a woman’s magazine, and one of the questions was about the biggest fears and concerns moms have. And I starting tapping away, and then realised it would probably be easier to write about what didn’t worry me, than what did. I’m not overneurotic or an overthinker, but as I become a parent, a new compartment was born, called Mom Worry.
I worry about your health and your development. About your safety and education. I worry that you’ll be bullied. I worried that you’ll bully. I worry that people will be unkind to you, or that life will blindside or hurt you. I worry that you won’t love me one day, that you might call someone else “mama”, or that you’ll be unhappy. Jees, I’m even worrying that you’ll become one of those bored-looking tweens, playing games on whatever gadget is in, while we sit at a family meal trying to converse.
And it doesn’t end there – there are mundane and less-important worries. I worry about where we’ll have your barmitzvah and will I have reached my goal weight by then, and what your friends will be like.
So you see, I seldom rest easy. I’m don’t anticipate bad at every turn or act worrisome, but often I need to give my worry compartment a stern talking-to, telling it not to consume the other more productive compartments. And sometimes I have to ignore questions that are too hard to answer, and could take a day answering. At least.
Liked this post? Follow this blog to get more.