Confessions of a Chronic Worrier.

Some people are raised Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, or Buddhist (and the list goes on). I was raised Baptist, but I was also raised worrishously. Never heard of that religion? Ok, so maybe it's not so much a theological practice, but instead a genetic defect.

All I know is that my mother is a worrier and not only have I inherited the trait but I've witnessed it practiced in my household since birth. Sorry Mom but people who know you are not going to be surprised. This is not a parent bashing post, I love my parents. I'm only trying to sort through my own head why I only got 3 hours of sleep last night.

Half of it can be contributed to my children. For some reason they decided they hadn't seen enough of mommy and daddy during the day and took turns screaming bloody murder pretty much every 45 minutes.

The other sleepless hours were spent tossing and turning and silently going through my long list of "what ifs". What if there is a fire? How will we get all the kids down the stairs and out to safety? What if there is a tornado? What if the gas prices become so high we have to resort to horses and buggies or be stuck at home every day? And of course the worry that tops them all, what will I do if something happens to one of my kids?

I know it really is pointless. I know that God already has our lives planned out but I cannot seem to retrain my brain. Hopefully I have at least diluted some of this DNA by adding Lance's genes. He doesn't worry about anything.

It doesn't help to be trained in the medical profession. That only increases my worries. I've seen the worse case scenarios. I've seen the person who felt a little off and seemed to be forgetting things, then went on to find out they had a brain tumor and died less than a year later. So I will continue to be suspicious of every cough, bump, and hang nail. I will be the mom that calls with a ton of questions that may seem ridiculous (which on the other end of the phone, during a busy day, seems annoying....I've been there also).

Some day my vigilance may pay off. I just might discover a rare illness in one of family members, in the early stages, when it can still be treated.

Having an evacuation plan ingrained in my brain may save my kids from dying in a fire.

Keeping all sharp objects and small pieces out of reach may keep my kids from getting cut or choking. Unless of course they learn how to do this (Ryan's favorite new game is to push a chair up so he can reach things that were, up until now, out of reach).

But at the very least hopefully I can sleep a little easier, knowing that my kids are healthy and safe. Then I will smile a lot more.

This concludes my brain babble for today.

"Bye-ya".