Worry Wort

I was reading this post by Beck, over at Frog And Toad Are Still Friends (you should be reading her blog, it's fantastic and her writing makes me green with envy, she's so good). Anyway. She was worrying about some possibly scary test results she was waiting on regarding her daughter and commented that she comes from a long line of worriers.

I know what that's like. I worry all the time. If Boo is outside, running around, I get this swoopy, sickening feeling in my stomach because I'm worried that she's going to fall. I don't hover over her, I let her do her thing, but my hand clenches involuntarily over my heart as I watch her race around, oblivious, shrieking and running with wild abandon. When she does inevitably fall, I don't ever say "I told you not to do X," I just bandage up the scrapes, wipe away the tears and send her on her way again. I admonish her to be careful and she solemnly nods and says "Yes, mama," and is off again, climbing and running and dashing hither and yon.

If O has had a string of high blood sugars, I worry. I worry about complications, I worry that maybe she's sneaking food, I worry that maybe I'm not paying close enough attention to her diabetes care. I worry that the mess with her father is going to mess her up badly, even though she's handling it well. I worry that she's going to be like me, obsessing over weight and over-eating when she's down. Even though we talk about it, I still worry. I don't want her having the horrible body image that I have. I want her to be comfortable in her skin, not anxious and embarrassed and ashamed.

The Bug has started to drop down on the height and weight charts, which is another new worry. She's very small - 11 months old and only 18.5 lbs. I worry when she pees thru her diaper, seeing diabetes at every turn. I worry that she still only has two teeth.

I worry about car accidents, almost obsessively. I can imagine horrible things happening and there are times that it nearly paralyzes me. I imagine one of the kids falling down the stairs when we're at my mother's, I can see them smashing their face on the hearth when they play in the living room. It makes me nuts that I can't shut those fears off.

I try not to let these worries show, try not to imbue my fears upon my kids. I don't want them to be scared children, I really don't want them to become scared adults. I don't want them becoming like me.