Live, Love, Learn

Life frazzles me. I often feel like the worst mother in the world and then, something happens to solidify my title as the baddest mama on the block. If you must know, I often hold this title for weeks at a time.

For instance, just last Friday, as I was running around the house like a mad woman, I gave Tuck (our two year old) my hormone pill instead of his daily allergy pill. It was so hectic around me that I didn't even realize it until I noticed something white on his tongue. His pills are pink. I put my whole finger in his mouth, poked around, trying to swipe it out. No luck.

I panicked. I started to hyperventilate. I had my brother-in-law count all my hormone pills, TWICE, just to make sure this wasn't all a dream. No dream and one pill missing. I frantically call the doctor to find out that, other than a regular period and possibly some sore breasts, Tuck is going to be fine. In fact, I can go ahead and pop the allergy pill in his mouth, too.

For the rest of the night, my hubby makes transvestite jokes about our son. It's funny (kind of). When I finally calm down though, I start to realize that the speed of my life is causing huge mistakes. I mess up all the time. I guess I'm okay with screwing up my own life, but my kids are something else. Small. Powerless. Eager for love. I want something better for them.

But I realized tonight, that I'm a kid of somebody, too. I may be small, powerless and eager for love when I'm down, but someone wants something better for me. I'm loved unconditionally, mistakes and all, whether I choose to accept it or not. It might just be better to let it in, don't you think?

It's a World of Pure Imagination

I've always had an active imagination. Lately, however, it's turning out to be more of a problem than a fun, creative personality trait. Ever since my body started falling apart at the age of 30, my mind has been in overdrive.

A pain on the lower left side. Ovarian cyst. Three sneezes in a row. Swine flu. Dizziness right before a meal. Diabetes. Ugly mole on by butt. Skin cancer.

It would be comical, except it's absolutely true. I've started obsessing over minor aches and pains. It has to be something bigger, something worse. Instead of having a doctor confirm that I'm fine physically (a tad crazy mentally, of course), I starting researching all these symptoms online. I just Google it, forgoing any official medical site. You can imagine what pops up. You got it......I am one sick puppy!

I wish I had never read the article that said after the age of 28, your body and health start to decline. Before I had time to shut the magazine, I was older. I'm older just writing this and, honestly, it pains me. I'm young, but already fearful of growing older with all the ailments that come with it. I'm afraid of being sick. I'm afraid of pain. I'm afraid I might die young, or old, or without my consent. I'm afraid of the not knowing all there is to know.

I am absolutely frozen surrounded by all this fear. I'm stuck. Sadly, I know I'm not the only one.

How do we stop measuring our life by the number of years and start counting the worthwhile moments? When do we realize that a great tragedy (a chronic illness, divorce, loss of a loved one) can turn into a triumph when we come out stronger, more aware of the world? How do we turn off the screeching voice of worry?

If you find the answers, could you drop me a quick line? You're the best.