I am a paranoid mother.  Ok, so I don’t know if paranoid is the psychologically correct term, if you are into that kind of thing (being psychologically correct), but  I do get nervous.  When confronted with a situation or a proposition, I think to myself, passively at first, “oh, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

At that point, my thoughts inevitably lead from a simple afternoon outside in the backyard, to one of my children being kidnapped and then who-knows-what else while I spend the rest of my life in an agonizing search for the baby I lost when I let him step out that back door.  So, the passive question, ”what’s the worst that could happen?” turns into a small anxiety attack, when chances are, that  whole mother’s worst nightmare scenario really isn’t going to happen.

My neighborhood has got to be one of the safest places in the world, my neighbors are lovely, and the crime rate resides at approximately non-existent, but is that enough?  Do the crime statistics, and the lack of a registered sex offender in my hood provide my with a false sense of security?  Is my optimism another form of ignorance?  Ugh, my crazy rantings sound even worse when they are staring at me on a computer screen! 

I don’t want to be a helicopter mommy.  You know them, the moms that hover over their children at the playground, never letting them experience so much as a scrape or skirmish.  But, I have this innate urge to protect my offspring.

Last week my kids were watching Winnie the Pooh.  I never thought that silly old bear would teach me so much.  In that particular episode, Rabbit had grown the perfect pumpkin.  The pumpkin was so perfect that he just HAD to protect it.  The gang started building a variety of contraptions to protect the pumpkin from all the ills of the world, but with each finished contraption another weak spot was revealed.  For instance, they built a fence all the way around the pumpkin, but it was left vulnerable on top.  Their efforts eventually led them to building a completely enclosed structure around and on top of the pumpkin.  Nothing could get in.  Nothing could hurt it.  I’m sure you can see where this is going, but I’ll finish the story anyway:).  Rabbit quickly realzied that his pumpkin was getting weak, the lack of sun, water, and fresh air made it frail and start to wither.  It turned out that smothering the pumpkin was actually killing it, not helping it.  And so it goes. 

If my kids are never able to spread their wings, take a risk, and be exposed to life, they will never be able to flourish.  If I never allow them to feel defeated, how will they know the joy of success?  I could do my best to never let them scrape a knee, or stub a toe, but at what cost?  What journeys will they be missing, and will they really be growing?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I firmly believe that there are times that I will need to walk along side my kids, I will arm them with the protection they need to fight their battles, but eventually, I’ll have to do it.  I’ll have to let go.  And I know if when I do, I will be better for it, and they will be too.

So until that day comes.  The day that I’ll have to let go, I’m going to do everything  I can to put all of my crazies aside, and watch my perfect pumpkins grow.

I am smitten by this blog.  It was there that I read this overwhelming appropriate quote:

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

I. love. it.  I really do.  On this day, this blissfully “normal” day, my four-year-old son rushed into the kitchen and with a sense of urgency declared, “I’m going to be doing something that’s going to keep me VERY busy!”

“What might that be?”  I asked

“Science.”  He responded boldly and confidently

I quickly shot back, “Wow, what kind of science?”

“The kind that has never been done before.”

Ok. 

With that, his older brother decisively declared his desire to join in, then the fun began. 

They quickly got to work gathering their supplies which included: 

• Various Parts of a Breast Pump,
• Several Halloween Cups,
• Bottle Nipples
• Medicine Droppers
• Measuring Cups
• Soap
• Water

What more could aspiring scientists ask for?

As for Ellie. . .She couldn’t have been happier.

This is her best friend, Cow.  Yes that’s right, her best friend happens to be a giraffe.  A giraffe who seems to have no problem being named  “Cow.” 

Thank you normal day.