Why is it that stresses and worries are notorious for making an appearance somewhere between 2 and 3 am? Most nights I'm a great sleeper. Some nights, though, I'm just not on my A-game and wake for no good reason; my eyes pop open and immediately my heart starts beating with such force it actually moves the sheets with each beat. When that happens, I know I'm done for because the microscopic review of my life is about to begin...
Up last night (see what I did there?) were the following concerns: Am I spending enough time with my son? Am I present when it counts? Is my son's college savings on track? How am I going to pay for the new roof and windows? Are the dogs getting enough exercise? Have I researched GMO's enough? Should I move my underwear drawer to the right side of my dresser or keep it on the left? Was that goat cheese or Feta on my pizza last night? Note to self: learn the difference between goat cheese and Feta. Am I happy with the that new Glade Plug-In scent?
As you can see, I start out with very real concerns - weighty issues that deserve attention and can certainly cause a spike in blood pressure. But quickly, my thoughts deteriorate into mind-numbing drivel that, in the still of 2 am, seem equally insurmountable and urgent in nature. What is that? I promise you I worry enough during my waking hours - there's no need to parlay this worry-fest into a full calendar day. And anyway, isn't there some law of averages that states if I'm stressed enough for 3 people during my waking hours, then someone else should take the night shift so I can get some reprieve?
Well, can there be!?
All fringe concerns aside, my constant source of worry is always my son. It's no secret that I'm a single mom. And even though I have the full
support of my ex husband and the best boyfriend this side of "The
Notebook," there are times when I lose sight of my "village" and feel fully responsible making or breaking my son's life. This is one of those times.
*Gasp alert* I've worked out of the home full-time since Ryan was 12 weeks old. (I know, I know - just finish reading, you can call CPS after.) And because I worked full time, I wasn't the one to discover his first tooth, I wasn't the lucky recipient of every post-nap grin, I didn't get to take him to the park at noon on a Tuesday "just because." I missed out on so much. Once he was in school, I missed out on most school parties, I never got to be room mom, I didn't get to go on school field trips, and I never got to sit in the pickup line and watch him bound to the car proudly waving his latest art project.
The amount of
guilt I feel about all I missed is immeasurable. But working wasn't my choice, it was necessary. Look, I'm not climbing the rungs of some corporate ladder in an attempt to bust my way through some proverbial glass ceiling. While I'm lucky enough to love my job, its primary purpose is to pay the bills. I'm home for dinner every night and home every weekend. It's stress free and it affords me peace of mind.
Because being solely responsible for the roof over our heads, a car to drive, heat in the winter, cool in the Texas summer, putting food on our table and money in our savings, braces and clothes, shoes and summer camp, extracurricular activities, vacations and - well, everything - is terrifying. (the paralyzing variety)
He's pushing 13 and he's pushing limits. Where do I find the ratio between letting go, but keeping hold of the reins? What if I don't teach the right lessons? What if he just stops listening to me? What if he realizes that I'm winging this whole Mom gig and calls my bluff? What if, what if, what if?
So much uncertainty - I just need some absolutes...
Seriously - what IS the difference between goat cheese and feta?
I am constantly in awe of working mothers. In some ways, I think kids turn out more well-rounded when that's the case. You simply aren't afforded the opportunity to helicopter them like so many SAHM's have a tendency to do.
ReplyDeleteEven though I stay home, I ask myself the same questions - am I doing ENOUGH? The answer is...I sure as hell hope so.
I have a sneaking suspicion that you're an awesome mom.
And also, Feta is one of my faves.
I think we always question if we're doing enough. How exhausting! I do the best with what I've got, just wish I could do more ;)
DeleteOf course you like Feta! It's one of my faves, too!
It's gotta be a mom thing. I don't recall true anxiety pre-motherhood. Lately my nighttime concerns are, "We need an exit strategy in case of earthquake, fire, zombie apocalypse. Who would grab Jack? What if cell phone coverage goes out? How would I get more asthma meds? Why didn't I have my grandma teach me to can vegetables?"
ReplyDeleteThen I wake and lose all sense of urgency in ironing these issues out.
But it always comes back to Matthew 6:28-34.
Oh, and my mom always worked out of the house. I'm fine. In fact, I don't remember ever thinking, "Why isn't she here?" except for when the daycare smelled of apple juice and urine. On those days I rrreally wished she'd whisk me outta there. Grody.
Ryan's got the zombie apocalypse down, so need for me to worry about that one. Whew!
DeleteMotherhood...worrying because you're not worried enough. Good grief!
The worst part about nighttime worrying is that there isn't a blasted thing you can do about pretty much any of it at that hour. And things seem so BLEAK then. And what IS the difference between goat cheese and feta? What's feta made of, anyway? Not goat? Sheep? Ick.
ReplyDeleteI hate the nighttime worry - why is worry so much more magnified when it's dark out? I don't get it. And Feta is made of....feet, I think.
DeleteWhile I can't help you out with the bigger concerns, as luck would have it, I am a cheese nerd. Feta is also made out of goat cheese. It's drier and saltier than what we commonly call "goat cheese," and it doesn't melt very well.
ReplyDeleteAnd Dyanne, some sheep cheese is absolutely disgusting, but some is just like cow cheese, but nuttier. Try manchengo.
Hooray for cheese!
Not only do you host one of the coolest link-ups, but you are a cheese connoisseur as well? Is there anything you suck at?
DeleteYou know what? I think it WAS goat cheese on my pizza then... Dangit! So much for my one absolute.
Housework. I suck at housework. I need a chore wheel.
DeleteSee, I rock at housework. Okay, you can have cheese and blog link ups - I don't feel quite so inadequate. If I get up by Boston, I'll swing by and clean a bathroom.
Delete"Like."
DeleteJenn - I live in southwest Missouri. We have Velveeta....
DeleteMy deepest condolences.
DeleteI can't figure out how to say what I want to say without sounding so incredibly stupid, so I'll just say this: You must be doing wonderfully for having such fears in the first place. I wish you confidence, and peaceful dreams. And great beer.
ReplyDeleteBTW, feta is a favorite for me, too, although I refuse to capitalize it - it's just a cheese for heaven's sake, it's not like it saved my life the time I almost choked on a tortilla chip or anything. My husband likes brie, and for that I'm considering divorce. Have you ever tasted that crap?? Disgust!
I went back and forth between capitalizing and not. I figured it's a proper name, no? Ugh, I don't know. I don't capitalize cheddar - now my head hurts.
DeleteNow brie, I absolutely LOVE! I hate that I love it, though, because it's so adds 3 lbs every time I look at it.
Confidence, peaceful dreams and great beer. There is no better wish for me! And thank you for saying I'm doing wonderfully. I sure hope so :)
Well, it appears that I'm out-numbered. Maybe I should give brie a second chance. :) But only once! - because I can't afford another three pounds.
Deletexo