Really? Really? Swallowing people from their bedrooms as they do Sudoku? That seems even beneath you and you’re pretty low. I’m already trying to deal with all my concerns from the BPA in bottles to the over use of hand sanitizers and then you come along and Continue reading →
Sending the kids to camp is supposed to be this delightfully awesome time of freedom and reprieve, but it’s not for me.
So, as you can tell from the last post, (Confessions of an Irrational Mom), I’ve been totally anxiety stricken lately. I wasn’t able to put my finger on why, until I looked at my finger and saw that I’d done this to my beautifully manicured gel nails.
Since this pic, I've ripped the overlay completely off with my teeth and bitten them to the quick. Annie, I'll see you in a month.
Then it dawned on me, it’s camp. Sending my son to camp makes me mildly certifiable. Knowing I have NO control over whether my baby puts on sunblock or brushes his teeth, or eats Fruity Pebbles everyday for breakfast, lunch and dinner, or runs with flip-flops on rocky terrain, or doesn’t make the intercamp team, or gets taken advantage of.
Mark Twain once said, “I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.” This week, Jenny from the Blog asks, “How many incidents do we fear as mothers?” “How much stress do we expend fearing them” and “Why is it so easy to be a What-iffer?”
Excerpt “…But, my mind was quick to figure out the real danger. Nope, this was not a police issue and frankly those petty slap on the wrist repercussions didn’t concern me; this was an act of terrorists or at the very least the owners of the mall were going to blow up the parking lot in order to put up a Neiman Marcus.”
To read the full insanity of this piece and see if you know the feeling: CONTINUE READING