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My Favorite Things

  • Naptime
  • Caffeine in various forms
  • Italy
  • The Beach
  • Family camping trips
  • The gym
  • Storytime at the Library
  • Rachael Ray
  • Running

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Worrying is like a rocking chair... gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere (author unknown).

I have always been the queen of worry. Before Captain Destructo, I worried that I would never get a job, never get married, die a lonely old woman with dozens of cats, etc., etc. When we decided to start trying to get pregnant (and what a boat load of fun that was! I took so many ovulation/pregnancy tests I should have just peed on a hundred dollar bill), after a few months of trying I was convinced that I was barren and was googling adoption and IVF options.

Obviously, I did eventually get pregnant, which intensified the worrying about a million percent, especially in the first trimester. I was uber excited, so I told people I was pregnant as soon as the stick dried, then immediately realized that if something were to go wrong I'd have to tell everyone I knew. At my 8 week doctor's appointment my OB tried and failed to hear the heartbeat (and, having read about 6 months ahead in What to Expect While You're Expecting, I knew this was normal, however I hoped I would have a baby with a superhuman heart), I FREAKED out so badly that she scheduled an ultrasound (as a side note, a baby at 8 weeks gestation looks roughly like a tadpole with no legs, or a jellybean. I was like "should I act like I am emotionally touched by seeing this weird bloblike creature in my abdomen? Will the songrapher think I am heartless and call CPS pre-emptively?"). Thank God Captain Destructo was an active baby (fetus I guess). Whenever I didn't feel her move for a few hours (or seconds) I would jab around in my belly until I felt a body part, then press on that body part until it moved.

Since Captain Destructo has been born, I haven't worried so much about if she was dead or sleeping, mostly since she never slept long enough for me to have to wonder. But the littlest things freak me out-like just today I heard you're not supposed to put baby girls in a bubble bath because of the UTI risk. So I've been worrying about her poor hoo-ha all day long. And surely the child is destined for a life of ADD, since I recently heard that having the TV on "for background noise" as I did for oh, the first 3 months straight of her life, is just as bad as having your kid watch it (but she'll be a very worldly, well-dressed dummy as we mostly watched What Not to Wear). And every time we go to storytime at the library I feel like the other moms are more interactive with their kids than I am (I catch myself just sitting listening to the book), so hopefully those kids won't be in her kindergarten class. They'll be all into multiplication while Captain Destructo can't count past 5 because Mommy would only count with her during the commercials.

Come back and check on me in a few years because I'm sure I'll be writing about how worried I am about her making friends and having a prom date, and if anyone will make fun of her cankles in high school (hopefully she'll outgrow them). I think I'm going to go take a Mylanta.


  1. I still have my cankles. It's get used to them. I just can't wear shoes with ankle straps. I've come to terms with it.

  2. Everybody worries about something!!! You just gotta make sure it doesn't consume your head all day. Ahhhh cankles... I'd call it strong legs!