I am tired and I need to go to sleep, but I survived this first week back to school!
If you are reading this, then I think you survived, too.
GUYS WE DID IT! (and we did so well, that we get to do it again).
It's been a busy week and an intense several days. I have a long litany of concerns about my children that always pop up when I have to return them to the outside world. I often fear no one will see them as the magical creatures that I think they are. Then I fear everyone will see how great they are and I'll never see my children. Then I worry they will struggle in school or get in trouble. Then I worry that I've inadvertently and permanently messed them up somehow.
I worry a lot.
I don't actually like to say out loud that I worry a lot. In fact, I think this is the first time ever that I've written this down. I hate worrying. I hate people who worry. I think worrying is for losers.
I am a loser.
Because I WORRY ALL THE TIME.
And the hardest thing about having three children is that I have to worry in three different ways and often, I worry in an exponential fashion about each of the children's friends and even sometimes children they don't particularly like, but I do, and then I worry about my children's friends and non-friends parents and then even their grandparents.
Which is insane, but, sadly very true. If you are reading this, I've probably worried about you getting in a car accident or being in some freak accident and being hit by a piano while walking down a quiet street.
I worry a lot, but I don't like to ever tell people how much I worry, because I want to pretend that I don't worry to make worries go away.
Which also makes little sense, because I still worry! In fact, right now, I am worrying that you will read this blog and worry about my worrying.
What do you worry about?