I've always been neurotic. But having kids just made my neuroses worse, and added new ones to the list. I just figured I'd share them with you, and determine one of two things will happen: you'll either relate or laugh your butt off.
Street fairs: I like the elephant ears. That's about it. The rides I refuse to let my boys ride on, with the theory that it makes me nervous these machines can be put together in three hours or less, but still considered safe enough. The live bands are okay, as long as you sit back far enough, otherwise I freak out that my boys could go deaf.
TV: as long as it's on PBS Kids, life is good. I also like the lineup on CBS on Monday nights. You can never go wrong with the Big Bang Theory. But I'm also drawn to shows like Dateline NBC and 20/20 like a passer-by is drawn to a car wreck, often causing a three-car pileup fifteen feet away from the original crash scene. How the world is able to function and people are able to survive, I'll never know. Viruses, child predator, feces in our drinking water...I'm still waiting for the medication commercial that lists "Could turn into a lemur" as one of its side effects. I swear every week I'll never watch those shows again, but it's like an addiction.
Clowns: Saw Stephen King's IT when I was four....'nough said.
Beaches: Not so much scared of sharks...surprising, huh? Actually, I've never swam in anything other than a pool or lake, and not by choice. I've never been in a state next to an ocean. :) But I'm a mommy of two. I wear my stretch marks like badges of honor, but they don't look good with a "mummy tummy" in a bathing suit. I wonder if the bathing suits that really look like suits will come back into style?
Super Moms: the moms that make me look or feel bad by implying I'm a bad mother because (shock) I choose to work to keep food in my and my children's stomach and a roof over their head. I'm one of many who swallowed their pride and got a job for the well-being of my family. I also believe it's not child abuse to give my child pre-processed foods, or by swinging through the drive-thru when it's been a long day and I know my son will be asleep by the time we get home. I believe they think they have to treat their children like a giant sign to advertise what wonderful moms they are.
As neurotic as I am, I'm not overly concerned with me or my children constantly washing their hands. Don't get me wrong. It's a mandatory when it should be, like after using the bathroom or before eating, but my family's motto has always been "A little dirt don't hurt." But it became painfully obvious the rest of the world doesn't agree with our mantra, because after toddler time at the library, my son gave a little girl in the group a goodbye hug, which was recipricated with joy. But no sooner had they disengaged from each other, her mother practically bathed her in Germ-X. I was dumbfounded. My son wasn't dirty. He has a bath every night, and his clothes were clean. So why does she automatically assume the worst? She must watch Dateline and 20/20 like I do.
And just the other day, I felt the icy stab of irony. Two of my cousins had babies in their teens. I never thought it would happen in my family, and though they were and still are two of the best moms I know, I swore I would never do the same.
Yet, as I stood in line in the grocery store checkout line, thumbing through the newest copy of Cosmo, I felt that weird overwhelming sense that I was being watched. I looked up to find a mother and her daughter who looked about fifteen. The mother was looking at Christopher, who was sound asleep in the basket of the cart, and Timothy, dozing in his car seat, a lazy smile grazing his lips every so often.
"How old?" she asked.
"Almost three and almost three months," not realizing that she was most likely asking my age, because she turned to her daughter and I heard her tell her daughter if she got pregnant like I did at my age, she would disown her.
Woah. It was like a sucker punch, as I had been married to Ben for almost two years when I had Christopher at 23, and still married to Ben when I had Timothy at 25. I look young, but I thought it was a stretch to assume I was a teenager. So I fought fire with fire.
"Excuse me."
She turned to me with a smile, oblivious that I had heard her. "Yes?"
"How old do you think I am?"
She froze like a deer in the headlights of my car, and stammered, finally muttering "Too young."
"As a matter of fact, I'm 26, and I've been married almost five years."
She blushed, finally realizing that I heard her. "I was just telling my daughter..."
"Get your facts before you judge." I was furious, though I had really no reason, but I felt compelled to stick up for my cousins, who probably felt judging eyes on them at all times. One of my cousins had her daughter at 16. She's worked hard to succeed as a woman and as a mom. She'd do anything for her daughters, and I doubt an "older mom" could make her look inferior. Though she's admitted the timing wasn't right, it was right because it saved her from her own self-destruction, and I strive to be the same loving mother she is.
As long as you love your child, nothing else matters. Except clowns....clowns are scary. :)
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