Throughout my whole life I have felt very comfortable that as long as it wasn't "brain surgery" there was nothing to fear, no challenge too fierce, and no road too rocky. And so I took risks and put myself out there on the line, virtually sure that as long as no one's life was in my hands I was good to go. Pretty simple rule to live by, and quite full of adventure.
The next rule was that if I tried something and decided that I wasn't so good at it, I wouldn't do it anymore. The truth is if I wasn't good at it I didn't really like to do it anyway. Another easy choice with the benefit that people believe I'm good at just about anything. What they don't know is that I live by this second rule pretty much all the time so my life looks pretty peachy.
Here's the light bulb moment. I was thinking about why I never wanted to have a baby before I got pregnant with Scout. The answer to this question has lots of facets, but when it comes right down to it, I think that I didn't know if I would be good at it or not. And AFTER having a child would be the wrong time to decide that I might not be so good at it. Additionally, you can't really just choose not to be a parent once your child has been born. I think perhaps that the fear was just too great to take the plunge. This and a number of other little reasons kept me from getting pregnant and having a baby.
Here's the real burn is this...raising a child IS brain surgery! Yikes...and now there's no way to go back. I look at this innocent little cherub and think, "Oh my, I do have his life in my hands." This is quite frightening to me all of a sudden. I suppose it's because I'm contemplating going back to work full time. Is this a good idea? Do I have any options? Can I find enough freelance work to allow me to continue to stay home with Scout and be there any time he needs me? Is this healthy anyway? Enough of that.
Now it seems as if every decision I make must be evaluated and reevaluated with my new found knowledge. There's no more just hanging out and letting him eat ice cream for breakfast. (I've only done it once, seriously.) There's no more giving in so easily because I know it's better to set rules so he knows how to be in this world. There's no more letting him pour water all over the kitchen floor just so he can have fun making a mess. (I've only done this once, seriously...but it was pretty much fun for both of us.)
If it truly is brain surgery...I need to be a little more mindful. Deb says not to worry...just love him unconditionally and he'll be fine. And you know what, that sounds so much easier. I wonder if we have any more ice cream.