I had "plans" to blog about a lame discovery that I made last night that involved syrup and stainless steel appliances; but as I just mentioned... the idea was (and still is) lame.
To be honest, it's way too late to be writing. I should have heeded the call of a loving husband and followed him to bed at a decent hour but I, unfortunately, became enveloped in a prime time special that documented the lives of children who suffer from O.C.D.
A part of me was completely mystified as I listened to the unique details of their disorder; while the part of me that hates touching Popsicle sticks completely empathized. In no way am I belittling their situation or elevating my strange mannerisms to their level, but I've definitely experienced moments of anxiety where I felt that my worry would consume me. These poor people can't escape their fear and are asked to confront it as they struggle to cope. I ache for them.
I'm a worrier by nature. Parenthood has only exacerbated that particular trait. Last night, despite the fact that I was tired, I struggled to fall asleep as I worried for the millionth time over our upcoming trip to Lake Powell. I'm beyond ready to spend time with family. I know that Eliza and Henry will be thrilled to interact with the Taylor-tot cousins, grandparents, etc...But I can't seem to smother the anxiety of the "What-if' scenarios.
This is an understandable parental worry, not an irrational one, right? It depends on who you ask, I suppose. I don't have much Lake Powell experience. The last time I went to Lake Powell was when Andrew and I were dating. I was a senior in high school and boy was I smitten. He didn't know I'd been given the green light from the musical director (who nearly owned my soul that year) to miss practice. I tagged along with his brother Mike and made my way to the Lake a day behind him. Andrew pulled up to the marina and stared in disbelief as I quickly made my way into his waiting arms. The surprise was ridiculously romantic.
The greatest fear I had back then was allowing Andrew to see my face without make-up. His sister (Hi Katie!) would call me out the second I put mascara on. You might have called me shallow; you might have called me insecure... I'd have called it both.
"YOU DON'T BRING MASCARA TO LAKE POWELL" or "MAKE UP IS NOT ALLOWED AT THE LAKE" She'd say in front of everyone; trying to cement the rule into my brain.
I remember hiding in my tent with my little hand held mirror; shaking with guilt as I applied it. Accidentally, I'd smudge the wand onto my cheek. Whispering the Mormon version of an expletive, I tried to rub off the waterproof mark with my saliva...
Oh wait. That's weird. Did I just side track again?
Not feeling that I've evolved much since then, I am now responsible for the well being of two children. I take my job of keeping them out of harm's way seriously. Still, that didn't prevent Henry from slipping in the tub and chipping his front tooth last night. His gum bled for a long while after his fall. I felt terrible as I re-wiped the dried blood off his chin this morning. I tried to focus on the gratitude I felt that his teeth were still in tact.
My point is, that no matter how vigilant a person you are, accidents happen. Bad things happen to awesome people every day. You know that. I'm not saying anything you already don't know. I hope you don't feel patronized. It's so late. I'm sorry.
I'm learning that my attitude totally reflects the influences I allow in. I recognize at this late hour, that it's up to me to spend time in good places, with good people , reading things that uplift and inspire rather than things that spread fear and angst because I'm easily affected. The good news is that I'm easily affected by what's good. I'm moved and compelled to act on things that are right when I'm spending time in the right places.
I commit to doing a better job so that my husband feels that he married someone slightly normal and that the children are in the presence of a Mom who radiates something other than fear and concern. They know I love and adore them, that I'm sure of.
As for Lake Powell, I suppose it's about feeling prepared. If you have any advice (other than to sleep at a hotel - that option is unfortunately OUT) please share. And ladies, does your make-up bag make the trip with you?