So, I've just returned from dropping the Reds off at the (air-conditioned) trailer, where their doting Nanny will let them frolic in the lake long after bed time and eat too many sweets. Bliss.
All the way home (note to self: 28 through Bancroft and down is NOT just a bit longer than your normal route, you moron. Check the map BEFORE being spur-of-the-moment-y.) I worried.
Worried that Luke will fall in the lake and no one will get to him in time. Worried that Matthew will see Luke fall in and go after him...and that no one will see him in time, either. That the hypnotic lure of a campfire will be too much for both boys and that they'll be burned and traumatized for life.
Worried that my mum will fall ill, or fall period, and Matthew won't remember the "911" drills I've done with him. Worried that a dog will bite Luke (Matthew's too cautious to get close) or that Matthew will fall down the trailer stairs, a misguided Superman. Worried that the car won't start, their carseats won't be fastened properly or that some drunken fool will run them over.
Yes, I recognize the sheer lunacy of these worries and yes, I sometimes worry about my sanity. Well, ok. I worry about my sanity more than sometimes, but that's not the point.
The point is - at WHICH point will these fearsome, ulcer-inducing "what-ifs" stop? As a mum, I mean. At which point will I actually sleep through the night, uninterrupted? Even though both boys are given to nocturnal wanderings, they DO sleep through until morning and do so quite often. Unfortunately, I can't remember that last time I did, because if they don't wake me, I wake up anyways, just to check on them.
When will I let go of the irrational idea that the boys are safest with me and that I can in any way control their destinies? (In and of itself, this idea is ludicrous. All things considered, the children are probably safer with their grandparents, really. I'm forever telling them to "Go outside and play!" while Nanny will actually play WITH them.)
Matthew believes that I have magical, all-seeing eyes in the back of my head. He also believes that I know the answer to everything, it's just that sometimes it takes me awhile to remember the answer. (Really, it just takes me awhile to sneak off to Google to find the answer, but I digress...)
The problem now is that I have begun to believe that I have magical, all-seeing eyes in the back of my head and that if I'm not there, something terrible's going to happen.
Nope, no God complex here. Uh, uh.
Is it me? Am I the only mother on the planet who feels this way because if so, I'd better book a few more therapy sessions and quick. Deeeeeepppp breath, Bellymonster.
Now that I am home and there is no frantic message from my mum saying that someone has stolen the children (Yes, I checked the phone straight away. Yes, I am paranoid beyond all reason) I need to relax.
I need to go to the gym and work out withOUT wondering if the boys are fine in the daycare at the Y. I need to grab a book and go sit on my back porch withOUT reaching for the monitor so that I can hear the silence that is their empty room. I need to relinquish control and simply BE.
Must remember to enjoy these precious hours to accomplish all the stuff that usually gets left until they've gone to bed. Must remember that Nanny is also a mummy and she has magical, all-seeing eyes, too.
New mantra: Nanny has magical, all-seeing eyes. Nanny has magical, all-seeing eyes.
Must call Nanny's cell, just to remind her...