I am not a very fearful mom. I have heard other parents say, “Oh, well if she doesn’t let her kids do it then it must be very, very bad.” You can often find Man and Lady sitting on top of a table, eating a meal without washing their hands, or going outside on a chilly day with less than the ideal amount of clothing. This isn’t to say that I would let them share a milkshake with someone who has an active case of pneumonia, but a simple cold does not faze me.
On this spookiest of holidays there are a few things that just scare me to the core: Man’s behavior once he has finished his Halloween candy, any kid dressed like Dora (or worse yet, Boots), and animals in costume. These fears will recede as the holiday comes to a close. And though I might not fear general day to day parenting tasks, there are some irrational parenting phobias that will continue awhile longer.
That I will poison my children: Lately, you can’t get away from it. Everything you read and hear says that unless you go completely organic you might as well just be tossing your children headfirst into harm’s way. All I want to do is wash a dish, but, apparently, this is what I’m actually doing: scrubbing my dish with toxic fluid, which leaves a poison residue, which later coats the food that my children eat and digest. Shit, my kid just ate a Polly-O string cheese—is he going to grow a third nipple from the hormones that were given to the cows which produced the milk which was used to make the cheese that Man ate? Sheesh, it’s enough to make you want to raise them in a bubble.
Grass fed, PBA free, all natural, no antibiotic, non-GMO, hormone free, dye free, sugar free, gluten free… it’s enough to strike fear in even the most educated of consumers: do it, or suffer the consequences—a kid with seven toes and severe ADHD.
Even in eutero I was harming them!
That I will never be alone again… EVER… for ANYTHING.
That I will lose my kids’ “fuzzies”: My children have an unhealthy relationship with their Angel Dear blanket heads. If they were lost, neither would Ever. Sleep. Again. In order to ensure their safety, and our sanity, we do not let them leave the house or car with them. However, every once in a while one ends up stuffed in the crisping drawer of the refrigerator or stuck in a shoe on the very last rack of some remote closet.
Bedtime comes. “Where’s Tiger?” asks Man, innocently.
“I don’t know,” I reply, my voice cracking with fear. I break out into a cold sweat, and my body hair stands on end.
I try and hide this from Man. If he smells my fear, it’s over. My heart racing, I take a mental inventory of all of the places Tiger has been “hiding” throughout the day… and I search them, ALL. I consider calling the FBI and demanding their best agents be sent out immediately—anything to get this wailing toddler off of my leg.
Man will actually be the only kindergartener in history that is not potty trained.
Cutting Lady’s hair: She absolutely will not under any circumstances allow me to put anything in her hair. But now it’s getting a bit out of control, and lately it gets stuck in her eyes. I’ll notice her trying desperately to wipe out stray hairs, her eyes watering, her voice shrilly calling, “me eye, me eye!” It’s enough to make me sad for her, but NOT enough to make me want to cut her hair. Her beautiful red hair is my, er, I mean her crowning glory; I just don’t think I could handle it.
My kids will literally suck the life out of me: Sometimes I feel like I’m in a Stephen King novel: “Life Sucking Toddlers.” I can picture it now, toddlers standing over their parents, mouths open and suck, suck, sucking the life out of them. I’m just trying to put on pants, and one is hitting, the other is crying, the dog is barking, the timer on the oven goes off, the other starts hitting back, crying escalates to “crining” (crying and whining simultaneously)… yup, life sucking.
Watch out, or my unkempt hair and I will suck you dry!
Please share you irrational parenting fears in the comments section below, and have a safe and happy Halloween.