Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to live anxiety free. I don’t mean clinical anxiety, but just that type-A, goody-two-shoes, teacher-mom, lifelong introvert anxiety that surrounds the things I do. To live in that kind of Namaste, you-do-you world that the ladies on the front of Self magazine seem to have embraced.
Today, little N had a birthday party to go to, the first party for a classmate he’s been invited to. A short catalog of my anxieties:
– Will I have to have a birthday party for Little N? Who will I invite?
– Are lots of kids having birthday parties, and is this just the first one N is invited to?
– Are other kids having lots of play dates?
– Is it my fault that N doesn’t have play dates and get invited to birthday parties?
– Is the book I bought for the book exchange something all the kids will like?
– Is the wrapping paper good enough? Is it too “boy”?
– Is N going to stand out like a sore thumb as the only boy in the room?
– Is it OK for little N to change in the women’s room with me, when most of the party attendants, his classmates, are girls?
– Is my bathing suit the right kind of bathing suit? Too cheap? Too revealing? Too big?
– What will the other parents think of me?
– How is it going to work? Are we going to swim first? Are we going to party first?
– What if N has a meltdown over something? What if he doesn’t want to play with the other kids?
– When is N going to take his nap?
– What if N can tell I’m worrying about the party?
No wonder I’m always tired!