My Superpower is Worrying

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So, I have a superpower. Now, I am by no means an Avenger.

My superpower is worrying, which is much less thrilling.

How much can I worry? Turns out a heck of a lot. Maybe even more than Marlin. My kid can definitely relate to Nemo.

I have been a worrier my entire life. My mom always says it was bred right into me. Thanks a lot, woman. It is not something I consider one of my best traits. I am not going around bragging about what a great worrier I am.

I really can worry like a boss. Okay, I might get that printed on a t-shirt.

Memories of worrying about a test or presentation in school are still vivid in my mind. I just had a flashback writing that! Why can I remember things that happened 20 years ago but not to buy heavy cream at the store? No homemade alfredo tonight. Frozen pizza for the win!

When I got pregnant, I instantly knew my worrying was going to be next level. You know the joy you feel when you get that positive pregnancy test. Well, my joy was told to be quiet and worry took the microphone.

My pregnancy consisted of 9 months of CONSTANTLY thinking about everything horrible that could happen. And reading every baby book I could get my hands on. I am still not sure if this helped or made things worse.

Then, my little bundle of joy was born and the real fun started.

I don’t remember a lot from those crazy first few weeks. But I do remember worrying. I worried that I was not doing anything right. I worried that she would stop breathing. And I worried that my lady parts were never going to be the same.

I worry every second she is not in my sight. Heck, I worry even when she is right in front of me.

In a typical day, my worries range from simple to a tad extreme. Did Brooklyn drink enough water today? Is she warm enough in her bed? Will someone break in and kidnap her tonight? See what I mean. Extreme.

Worrying is not fun. I don’t enjoy having a million what-if questions running through my head.

My husband is the exact opposite of me. He is so chill about things. It drives me nuts. I may be a little jealous. I want to have a worry-free day. Does that exist? How about my worry acts more like a backup singer?

My worry is Mariah Carey during her high notes.

I think my darling hubby assumes I can turn it off like a switch. Oh, thanks for the idea dear. Why didn’t I think of that? Everything will be fine he says. Calm down. Meanwhile, I am imagining every worst-case scenario while nodding at him and smiling.

I am always interrogating him about not worrying. Maybe I am hoping one day he will say something that magically takes my worry level down a few notches. Or maybe I am hoping he will break down and tell me he is a closet worrier. No such luck. These conversations usually end with me having thoughts of hitting him in the head with a frying pan. Maybe finding a witch to cast a spell on him. You know, completely rational thoughts!

I feel like I should mention I love him very much.

I would be a mess without him to balance me out even the tiniest bit.

At times, I feel like I’m the only one out here rocking the worry game. If worrying was a job, I would have the corner office. Look out, CEO right here.

I know this could not be further from the truth. There have to be other moms who check to make sure their kids are breathing three times a night. Moms that worry their children will choke on a grape(even when they are cut into tiny pieces). My kid just ate a fruit snack! What have I done?

There may come a day when I don’t worry quite as much. This is my wishful thinking talking.

My plan is to embrace how I am. Worrying about things does help in making me extremely prepared in most situations. There are always enough snacks in the car in case we break down or get a flat tire. You know she might starve in the time it would take for someone to come save us. Brooklyn has 17 changes of clothes when she goes to her Aunt’s for one night. I plan on cutting her food into bite-sized pieces until she is at least 16.

In all honesty, I do need to make sure I am not worrying the days away. I used to think that as my daughter got older I would worry less. Why did I think that? I am only 6 years into this parenting gig and I don’t see things getting miraculously easier anytime soon. It seems to be the opposite.

So, what to do?

I’m going to write in my favorite journal (when I remember).

Spend some time watching the Food Network. Why am I so obsessed with watching people cook?!

Continue to check in every hour or two when it’s date night.

Tell myself over and over again that most of my worries have to do with things that are never going to happen.

Work very hard to make sure worry is not stealing my joy.

And continuously work on doing the best I can. I will do my best to take care of myself and my best as a mother. This may mean hiring a private detective to follow her around when she’s a teenager. I haven’t decided yet.

So, maybe my superpower is not the greatest but I’m okay with that. Reading minds would be killer though. Maybe in my next life.