Saturday, May 2, 2009


My Grandma made worrying a hobby. She perfected it like no one else I know. She would worry about her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren from the moment she awoke to the sound of her bird clock. She'd call whomever she was particularly worried about that day, and try to put her mind to ease, although I'm fairly certain that never worked. She just worried more.
The older I get, the more I turn into my Grandma.

These kids of mine have turned my hair gray and turned my body into something I don't recognize most days. They have also turned me into my Grandmother.

My Punky has been unwell for the last little bit. He has some conditions that are concerning as of late and I find I just worry constantly. I worry when I leave him at school, take him to the babysitters and when I go out for a few hours with my sister.

Even though I seem to be worrying at Grandma-like levels these days, I've come to realize that worrying is actually a great abyss. You can worry worry worry and nothing actually comes of it. It doesn't have a productive result (other than possibly more gray hair). So, I'm done with excessive worrying (there will always be some level of worrying....). Trust my instincts. Know that he's well taken care of.

Darned kids.


Sarah said...

Hope you can keep a lid on that worry and wishing little Punky well

J. said...

I came from the same School of Worry. Good luck with your early graduation.

Rock on