My main talent

Yesterday was about Mark's rare talent of blowing a carved bar of soap down a rain gutter.  Today it's about me. 

I have a real gift.

I can worry like nobody's business.  It's superhuman even.

A few days ago, after over a week of on and off tooth pain and on and off stress about it, I took myself to the dentist.  (I have--don't be surprised--anxiety about dentists and I've decided that the cure for that is to have Heather as your dentist's assistant.  She is my friend and one of the fabulous women in my writing group and she is kind to me even when I'm anxious.  What's not to love?)

Heather listened and empathized and x-rayed and told me that she did not see anything grievous on the x-ray.  The dentist took a look too and they both told me that I probably had tooth trauma of one kind or another and was grinding my teeth.

Before I left, Heather called me over to the computer screen to look at my x-ray.  "This is why you don't need to worry about a root canal," she said, pointing to my teeth and explaining why someone would need a root canal in the first place and how that wasn't a concern with those teeth.

I asked, "Is that your way of telling me not to be neurotic?"  She said no.  (See?  She's very kind to me.)

It has been a difficult week for me.  Despite psyching myself up for the challenge, despite reminding myself how much I have to be grateful for, despite knowing my kids are having a marvelous time, it has been a challenge for me.

My older two kids have been at the school until late into the night, rehearsing.  I've been busy with my supporting role as a drama parent.  I see my children in bits and snatches and I miss them and I worry about them.  I worry about them getting enough rest.  I worry about their homework.  I worry about their health.  I worry about imagined and undefined worries just because I can't see them and I don't know if they're OK.  When I picked Emma up at her school and dropped her off at Braeden's and she was cranky, it sent me into a tailspin of worry. Last night when Janet and I showed up at the school with 25 pizzas to feed to 100 hungry teenagers and there were paramedics there, it didn't do much for the nerves...

(One of the cast gashed his head open and needed stitches...hopefully he'll be fine.)

Adam (who coincidentally is having a super busy week himself--I have been worried about him too) has asked me if the worrying has helped/is helping/will help.

May-be?

Probably not.

No.  

I wish I were more like Adam.  He's steady.  He doesn't worry.  He plows ahead.  He does his work and when he has a spare minute or can see me floundering, he helps me.  But he doesn't worry.

I can't see myself becoming as stoic as him anytime soon.  I know my limits.

I decided I will try to be like Heather.  I will be the calm in the storm.  (I will try.)  In those rare moments when I see my children, I will be calm and supportive and reassuring.  (I will pretend.) I will tell them they don't need a root canal.  That's always good news.

I am truly grateful for their opportunities and experiences.  It's wonderful to see them having a great time doing something they love.  It's good for them to sacrifice for something that means a lot to them.  They are learning and growing.

Maybe I need to do some learning and growing of my own.  I need to learn to let go.  I need to learn that my worrying is a millstone not only for me, but for my family.  I need to learn that we are all resilient and fine, just fine.

Growing up is hard.  (At least for me.  The kids seem OK with it...)