One of the “joys” of parenting is constant worrying. When we
don’t have to worry about things like food, water, shelter, and health we take
it upon ourselves to broaden the spectrum. Is she smart enough? Does he have
enough friends? Is she tall enough? Will people like him? The list goes on and
on. Now most people who know me know that I’m not a big worrier. That being
said, it’s impossible to not let the worry woes enter my mind at some times. I have three children who are very different
from each other so the worries vary.
Isabelle is four years old but is smart beyond her years.
She yearns for knowledge. She spends her nights writing her letters, begging me
to spell every word possible for her, and nagging us to play number games with
her. She remembers everything and articulates things better than most grade
schoolers. She will sit and color, paint, or do crafts meticulously for hours. Isabelle
is a planner and a rule follower. Sounds perfect, right? Well I worry that her obsession with right and
wrong will lead her to always be the tattle tale. I worry that she’s not easy going
enough.
Henry is three years old and as sweet as they come. He will
happily play in the corner with a rock and a paperclip for hours. He lives in a
make believe world full of dinosaurs and bad guys. He has an imaginary dog who
is also a super hero (“Super Doggy”) who flies next to our car when we are out
and about. He is a no muss, no fuss kind of kid. He is also completely clueless.
He can’t follow simple directions to save his life. At the rate he’s going, he
may never be potty trained. He uses imaginary words that normal people don’t
understand. I worry that he spends too much time playing alone. I worry that he
will scare potential new friends away by his constant talk about ghosts and
monsters. I worry that he’s too laid back and that he doesn’t fight back
enough.
Daniel is twenty months old and a bulldozer. He is like Dr. Jekyll
and Mr. Hyde. He is charming and sweet one minute and hitting and throwing toys
at your head the next. He is smart – smart enough to carefully plan his attacks
against his siblings. He is a Mamma’s Boy and a dare devil. I worry that while
I am ignoring him on a fussy day that he actually has an
ear infection. I worry
that each day is the day that he will fall down the entire flight of stairs. I
worry that he doesn’t share enough and uses his strength to get his way too
often.
Those are just a few of my worries, but really
when all is said and done I know that it will work out. I envision Isabelle
and another little OCD girl sitting doing long division together while
discussing all the naughty things other kids in class did that day. I envision
Henry and another little boy wearing capes and running around the backyard
chasing ghosts with sticks. I envision Daniel (inevitably with a limb in a
cast) with another little boy throwing rocks at trees and planning world
domination. Things won’t always be easy. Kids can be mean and childhood can be
tough. But when all is said and done, I know they’ll each find one friend who
will help them through it all. In the meantime, I’m going to go start
collecting resumes from kids at the playground to fill the open positions.
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| "Don't worry, Mom. We've got this!" |
