Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Worry Freak
Being a worry-freak is hard work, especially as a first-time parent. You’re already sleep-deprived and exhausted from all the food preparation, dirty laundry, and all the poopy diapers. I know I'm preaching to the choir, but why do first time parents stress out so much? Do you think the worrying really makes a difference?
You buy all the safety gear and have it in place before little Gracie even makes it home from the hospital. From socket covers to toilet locks, you're ready for battle. You research the best stroller, the safest car-seat, and the toughest car. Who cares if you have to get a second mortgage to finance it all? You won't need the baby gates for several months, but you purchase a few for good measure just in case they’re sold out when she does her first roly-poly roll. You've even painted her perfect pink room with organic paint, in case she decides to munch on it down the road.
Once she's landed on planet Earth, you begin to worry about everything from A to Z. Every germ cries out for a sanitizer wipe and even clean looking carpet becomes a feared enemy. Once she starts to toddle, you stress about all the germ-infested playground equipment at the park and the play-sets at the mall. Every sneeze or cough from a passerby provides a spooky tingle down your spine. You know you need to get out and socialize, but you feel obsessive compulsive about your ability to make it to normal social events because she might just get a cold or something worse, like the rainbow colored measles. At night, you hear every single noise through that magical box as you sprint like a cheetah to ensure that she’s not choking on her pediatric approved binky. You lie awake thinking, “Did I actually turn the stove off?"
Here's the thing about parenthood, you’re not actually in control. As a professional worrier, I’ve had to learn to trust God for my three kids over the years. After our son almost fell through my mom's two-story flight of stairs, I thanked God for sparing him. During our recent vacation, he almost drowned and we thanked God for alerting us in time. After our middle child ate the leg off of a glass starfish, we thanked God for protecting her body. When this same daughter went missing after pick-up from her preschool last year, God stepped in again. When our third child had difficulty breathing as a one-day old, we thanked God for getting her through the night. When she got bronchitis and pneumonia as a two-year-old, God came through again.
Do your best as a parent and remember that God is holding your little prince or angel even more carefully than you are. You can take a deep breath because He’s holding you as well. The upshot of all the crazy stories is that you’ll have a really funny rehearsal dinner some day when your baby gets married.
You buy all the safety gear and have it in place before little Gracie even makes it home from the hospital. From socket covers to toilet locks, you're ready for battle. You research the best stroller, the safest car-seat, and the toughest car. Who cares if you have to get a second mortgage to finance it all? You won't need the baby gates for several months, but you purchase a few for good measure just in case they’re sold out when she does her first roly-poly roll. You've even painted her perfect pink room with organic paint, in case she decides to munch on it down the road.
Once she's landed on planet Earth, you begin to worry about everything from A to Z. Every germ cries out for a sanitizer wipe and even clean looking carpet becomes a feared enemy. Once she starts to toddle, you stress about all the germ-infested playground equipment at the park and the play-sets at the mall. Every sneeze or cough from a passerby provides a spooky tingle down your spine. You know you need to get out and socialize, but you feel obsessive compulsive about your ability to make it to normal social events because she might just get a cold or something worse, like the rainbow colored measles. At night, you hear every single noise through that magical box as you sprint like a cheetah to ensure that she’s not choking on her pediatric approved binky. You lie awake thinking, “Did I actually turn the stove off?"
Here's the thing about parenthood, you’re not actually in control. As a professional worrier, I’ve had to learn to trust God for my three kids over the years. After our son almost fell through my mom's two-story flight of stairs, I thanked God for sparing him. During our recent vacation, he almost drowned and we thanked God for alerting us in time. After our middle child ate the leg off of a glass starfish, we thanked God for protecting her body. When this same daughter went missing after pick-up from her preschool last year, God stepped in again. When our third child had difficulty breathing as a one-day old, we thanked God for getting her through the night. When she got bronchitis and pneumonia as a two-year-old, God came through again.
Do your best as a parent and remember that God is holding your little prince or angel even more carefully than you are. You can take a deep breath because He’s holding you as well. The upshot of all the crazy stories is that you’ll have a really funny rehearsal dinner some day when your baby gets married.
Labels: parenthood, worry
