TUESDAY, JANUARY 11, 2011 6:08 AM, EST
As parents, we worry. The minute they are born, we begin. We worry about the little things and we worry about the bigger things. Some of us are more "experienced" worriers than others - I fall into that category. I have always worried about each and every little thing when it comes to the physical and emotional well-being of our three kids. I'm not saying that makes me a better or more caring parent; I just approach it from this mentally-unbalanced manner. ;) I know I go overboard and for the most part, I keep this worry boxed up inside. After all, I don't want to give a signal to them that they should also be worried about whatever new pursuit and activity they are trying. And for the most part, I think I am successful at keeping my continuous stream of worry a secret (except from my husband). Go conquer the world, children - but please remember to be careful! Ha, ha ....
Yesterday, my worry was in fine form. I didn't sleep at all and after tossing and turning, I decided to get up at 3:30am. I read a while and then got some paperwork done, washed some dishes, etc. Fun times. Josiah's injection lesson later in the afternoon had my stomach in a knot and while he appeared calm and unconcerned, I was a mess. I muddled through the day, appreciating that people didn't give me strange looks when they surely noticed I hadn't even combed my hair that day.
As with many of my worries, this one was unfounded, or unnecessary - but what fun would that be?! Josiah calmly and astutely watched the nurse instruct how to mix the vials. She administered the first shot and suggested she could do the second, waiting to give him a try when she returns on Wednesday. But no, Josiah had his game on and he was ready. So, with no fanfare or hesitation, he administered the second shot into his leg. Piece of cake. As the nurse asked me if I was OK (did I look like I was going to pass out?!), Josiah proceeded to change into his exercise gear and told us he was going for a run. The nurse was floored, I was worried (of course) and I asked if it was OK if he exercise so soon after receiving the meds. She called her office and after some discussion, they cleared him to go. So he went.
So the nurse packs up her gear, continuing to sing Josiah's praises at his amazing learning ability. She stated that an instructional DVD could be made using him, he was so good with the needles. So much of my worries had lifted and I felt euphoric.
That was, until I noticed it was getting dark. When was he getting back? Was he doing OK? Would a car hit him? Was he lying in a snowback, too tired to get home? Yes, I can't let a good opportunity to worry pass me by. So I got in the car and went to do a drive-by. Luckily I spotted him almost immediately and although I couldn't stop because of a car close behind me, I was able to roll down my window and yell, "Are you doing alright?" to which I got the eye-roll and the hand signal to - move on! - and stop embarrassing me! (not sure what to call that hand signal, but it's not the bad one! Just the "shoo, get outta here" one.)
I returned home, once again almost worry-free (he still had to get by a few more cars, after all) and started to make dinner. Arriving home minutes later, Josiah was none too pleased that I trailed him. "Mom, you don't need to come find me. I'm f-i-n-e!"
Oh sweet boy, just wait until you are a parent. While I hope you don't worry to the extent that I do, you will then understand. Until then, I am the nut with the uncombed hair, stalking my kids. And that's the way it is.
Yesterday, my worry was in fine form. I didn't sleep at all and after tossing and turning, I decided to get up at 3:30am. I read a while and then got some paperwork done, washed some dishes, etc. Fun times. Josiah's injection lesson later in the afternoon had my stomach in a knot and while he appeared calm and unconcerned, I was a mess. I muddled through the day, appreciating that people didn't give me strange looks when they surely noticed I hadn't even combed my hair that day.
As with many of my worries, this one was unfounded, or unnecessary - but what fun would that be?! Josiah calmly and astutely watched the nurse instruct how to mix the vials. She administered the first shot and suggested she could do the second, waiting to give him a try when she returns on Wednesday. But no, Josiah had his game on and he was ready. So, with no fanfare or hesitation, he administered the second shot into his leg. Piece of cake. As the nurse asked me if I was OK (did I look like I was going to pass out?!), Josiah proceeded to change into his exercise gear and told us he was going for a run. The nurse was floored, I was worried (of course) and I asked if it was OK if he exercise so soon after receiving the meds. She called her office and after some discussion, they cleared him to go. So he went.
So the nurse packs up her gear, continuing to sing Josiah's praises at his amazing learning ability. She stated that an instructional DVD could be made using him, he was so good with the needles. So much of my worries had lifted and I felt euphoric.
That was, until I noticed it was getting dark. When was he getting back? Was he doing OK? Would a car hit him? Was he lying in a snowback, too tired to get home? Yes, I can't let a good opportunity to worry pass me by. So I got in the car and went to do a drive-by. Luckily I spotted him almost immediately and although I couldn't stop because of a car close behind me, I was able to roll down my window and yell, "Are you doing alright?" to which I got the eye-roll and the hand signal to - move on! - and stop embarrassing me! (not sure what to call that hand signal, but it's not the bad one! Just the "shoo, get outta here" one.)
I returned home, once again almost worry-free (he still had to get by a few more cars, after all) and started to make dinner. Arriving home minutes later, Josiah was none too pleased that I trailed him. "Mom, you don't need to come find me. I'm f-i-n-e!"
Oh sweet boy, just wait until you are a parent. While I hope you don't worry to the extent that I do, you will then understand. Until then, I am the nut with the uncombed hair, stalking my kids. And that's the way it is.
Elizabeth Henderson
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