I’ll admit to being extremely over protective when it comes to my boys. I’m terrified of them getting hurt. When I watch them ride their rollerblades, I become consumed with thoughts like “Oh my GOD, they could fall, break their neck and become paralyzed!” So, I’ll shout out to them things like “Slow down!” “Not so fast!”
“WHY DON’T YOU COME INSIDE AND WE’LL BAKE COOKIES INSTEAD!?”
I usually get a response that goes a little something like this…
“You always ruin our fun! Why don’t you just go back inside and let us ENJOY OUR LIVES?”
And that’s exactly what I have to do. I have to go inside and not watch them play, or my urge to save them from losing an eye or their ability to walk will take over and I’ll “ruin their lives.”
Over the years, I’ve learned to control my overprotectiveness on the outside by not freaking the hell out when I DO watch them play. And? I don’t say no when they ask to go places like skateparks or BMX racing tracks. Even though, on the inside, I am throwing up, wondering how I’ll care for them when they’re in their wheelchairs. (And I’m not exaggerating) I realise that I can’t prohibit them from enjoying their childhood because of my fears. That said, I still believe it is my job to protect them from harm, to keep them safe, so there are times I will forbid them from doing things, even if every other kid in the ‘hood are doing them.
There have been many times where my husband will say things to me like “Think about what YOU did as a kid and you lived, RIGHT?!”
So true. I think of the things that I did as a child and yes, I survived, BUT… it IS a miracle that I still have legs that work.
When I was in Junior High, I was totally obsessed with tanning. I wanted the best tan the sun could offer, so I’d search endlessly for the perfect place to bake my skin. I decided that perfect place was THE ROOF OF OUR HOUSE. I’d grab a towel, my pink boom box, I’d climb on the side fence, hop up on the roof, climb to the very top and park my ass at the very top, facing my backyard.
I think about that now and it makes me sick to my stomach. I could have fallen off and DIED! And, oh my God, if I ever found MY kids on OUR roof? I’d call 911 to come rescue them because I sure as hell wouldn’t let them climb down once I saw them up there.
Climbing on the roof was mild compared to the things me and my siblings did when we were young. Things that could have gotten us killed, things like trying to put out a match in a motor home with A CAN OF LYSOL (Can you say ‘how long does it take for eyebrows to grow back in?’), driving my parents car when I was 14, when I had no clue HOW to drive. Things like jumping out of trees, running on the concrete around my grandmas pool to get enough speed to do flips into her pool without a diving board, playing “operation” with real knifes and getting (literally) cut open in the gut, riding bikes at 523532 miles per hour in the middle of the street with NO HELMET, jumping the train tracks trying to “beat the train”, etc….
So why am I so paranoid about my kids? Why can’t I ease up a bit? Why do I panic when I watch them jump their bike off of a ramp? Why do I secretly wish they could wear mouthpieces, knee/elbow pads and helmets at their basketball games? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t actually enforce my overprotectiveness in such an overbearing manner, I try to keep it inside so as not to raise a couple of wusses, but I wish that I could relax a bit and not worry so much about them becoming quadriplegic.
Is that actually possible? Are there mothers out there who watch their kid racing down the street on their roller blades at 50mph and actually enjoy it and cheer them on? Are their mothers who don’t think “Oh my God, those are permenant teeth, if he falls and knocks them out WHAT WILL I DO?” Do these mothers exist and if so, what in the hell is your secret? How do you do that? Please, enlighten me.

One day it will all make sense
I woke up this morning not feeling like myself. Everything is different. For the third time in my life, there is a child forming and growing inside of me.
To say it’s overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe the emotion that is constantly present in my heart and in my mind.
As I made my way down the hall this morning, the sweetest voice I know said softly “Goodmorning my pregnant mommy.”
The words stunned me and a rush of pride and joy swept over my entire body. However, it only lasted for a moment before the shock and disbelief once again took over my mind.
The reaction of my children is comforting. They are excited. Everytime I look at Ethan, he’s staring at my stomach and he’ll say something like “I can’t believe you have a baby in your tummy.” Or “I’m going to love this baby so much mommy.”
Andrew has already offered to help me in any way I need it, with one exception.
He will not change poopie diapers.
I find myself touching my tummy often and telling my baby I’m sorry.
“I’m sorry that I cried when I found out you existed. I’m sorry for the things I said when I called to tell your daddy you existed. I’m sorry. I do love you, I do, but it’s so complicated right now. I’m sorry.”
I know that’s silly, but I feel so guilty for the way I feel right now.
When Andrew and Ethan were concieved, the joy I felt was unmeasurable. I would look at Tony and laugh. “We’re having a baby!” I would walk around with a smile on my face and overwhelming excitment in my heart.
Today, I walk around in shock. Stunned. Overwhelmed. Scared. In disbelief. Wondering if I can give this child the love I gave to my other children. Wondering if it’s fair to bring a sweet, innocent child into this world under these circumstances.
I am ashamed of how I feel. I am.
However, with every hug Ethan gives my tummy, with every name Andrew spontaneously suggests, with every smile and reassuring touch my husband gives to me, it feels a little more like this is the way things are supposed to be and that when I finally see this unexpected little creature, everything will be as it was meant to be.
And finally, the family that I live for, the family I love, will be whole and complete.
I wrote that post on December 6, 2003.
When I read that last sentence, chills went through my entire body.
I had NO idea just HOW much we needed that little “unexpected creature”.
Thank God HE knew.

My daughter was just diagnosed with RSV. I’m waiting for the doctor to tell me whether I need to take her to the hospital or not. If she doesn’t call within the next 15 minutes, I’m taking her anyway.
I’m so scared for my baby girl.