|Even Trey looks worried...|
And during those hours of inexplicable insomnia (for, after all, what sane mother of a 15-month-old finds herself unable to sleep?), I was plagued by so many worries, fears, and doubts that I thought I would never rest again.
I worried that the conventionally produced meat and blueberries I ate this weekend would taint my breast milk with pesticides, hormones, and other vile things I don't want in my baby's body.I never knew mothering would be such a painfully, fiercely fearful undertaking. I try to take good care of Trey; I spend most of my life striving to provide him with nutritious food, a clean and safe living space, lots of intellectual stimulation, and a healthy emotional environment. And yet I am constantly terrified that I will fail him, scar him, or stunt him in some way.
I worried that the unholy alliance between my neighbor's cigarette smoke and the mold in my laundry room will give Trey asthma.
I worried that Trey will get skin cancer because I let him play in indirect sunlight without sunscreen.
I worried that Trey will get rickets because I only let him skip sunscreen when he's playing in indirect sunlight.
I worried that the pasteurized, organic, grass-fed milk I buy from local farmers isn't actually pasteurized, organic, or grass-fed at all.
I worried that I spend too much time cleaning the house while Trey plays by himself.
I worried that Trey will never learn how to be independent because I pick him up every time he whines.
I worried that I scarred Trey for life the few times I successfully remembered not to pick him up the minute he started to whine.
I worried that I am too strict, and that Trey will rebel by spending his entire adolescence watching television and eating McDonald's.
I worried that I am too lenient, and that Trey will become obese because I sometimes let him eat brownies and ice cream.
I worried that the ice cream Trey ate on Saturday contained both bovine growth hormones and antifreeze.
I worried that I am inconsistent about applying the rules for table manners, and climbing on dangerous things, and how long Trey is expected to wait patiently for me to finish what I'm doing.
I worried that Trey will be emotionally scarred because sometimes I snap at him when he won't stop climbing my legs.
I worried that Trey will grow up to hate me, because I raised him completely, totally wrong.
Am I crazy? Or is this something all moms do? Do you lie awake at night, counting your failures and praying you haven't screwed your kids up too badly? What are your biggest fears?