I remember when I was terrified of a miscarriage or finding out that Rowan was a tumour instead of a little baby growing inside of me. Those days of terror were nothing compared to these days of terror... I am afraid that worry will turn me into a raging lunatic. I must get up at least twice a night to make sure he is still breathing, I have these sick thoughts of falling on him as I go down the stairs each morning, I imagine all of the horrid accidents he could have while in the bath, on his change table, in the middle of our bed, beside us in bed, in the car, while left alone with his grandparents... I don't want to be a parent that squishes the life out of their child because of fear or turns her child into a leg-clenching-stranger-fearing-mommy's-boy but my lord, this world is a cruel place! And I would have to be an expert in hazard identification and evaluation wouldn't I!
To make things worse, today John went in to check on chub-chub (his newest nickname) while he was napping and what does he see... Rowan's face was playing hide-and-seek under his blanket. Poor John just about had an aneurysm and whipped the blanket off in a flash. He immediately came downstairs to re-enact the whole thing for me as I write this blog! You might ask why he was sleeping with a blanket in the first place? Well, I thought I had found a sneaky way of doing a "half swaddle" where his arms were restrained but his legs were free so that he wouldn't over heat (because you know overheating causes SIDS right?). Apparently I was an idiot and he won't be sleeping that way ever again.
This parenting thing is enough to make me mental.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
parenting is a cruel joke... remember my blog about that? God, it's just ridiculous. Darren and I are paranoid freaks... We said Carys was never going trick-or-treating alone...never.
Post a Comment