I'm Seriously Kidding... Really: February 2010

90% of the things we worry about never happen. I read this several years ago and as a certified professional worrier, I do admit that it has brought some comfort over the past 23 years. But I still worry that it's not statistically true. I mean what if for some people, fate doesn't give them 90/10? What if some of us got slapped with a 10/90 ticket? Could you imagine- if 10% of the things I worry about never happens? That means 90% of the things I did worry about were going to happen at some unknown point in my tiny little life. Ugh. That means along with cancer and never meeting Jordan Knight, I'll also be faced with realities such as an unathletic son and our planet exploding.

As horrible as my memory is, I can recall very vividly my first moment of unjustified worry. I was 10 years old, and someone said, "Wow, you're ten years old. You're a whole decade!". After a few fleeting seconds of "hell yeah, I'm a decade, biiaaatch!", I began adding up the years and quickly realized that in just three decades, I would be 40 and my life would be over. What started out as an adult initiating playful banter with a child turned into my personal obession with all the ways anything could go wrong.

So as I was just worrying about Tyson's runny nose and traffic on my way to the gym this evening, I felt the need to list my worries- for both your enjoyment and perhaps your horror. Some of these are ligit- others are quite absurd. Please forgive my frankness and try not to judge.

I worry that Tyson doesn't drink enough water and watches too much TV.
I worry that Kyle will break something playing basketball with 19 year olds that think they're LeBron James.
I worry that I will never write my book.
I still worry that if I buy a gallon of milk, it will spoil. That has never happend.
I worry that I'm not as crafty as a part time stay at home mom should be.
I worry about going to the dentist. Even 6 months away from my next appointment.
I worry that there is wax in my ears and boogers in my nose. Q-tips are good for both.
I worry that Tyson will not like sports. And if he does, I worry that he won't be good.
I worry about thay mole on my boob.
I worry about my boobs- that they'll always look like flesh-colored eggplants. You are welcome.
I worry about money.
I worry about money again.
I worry about money some more.
I worry about Tyson's first day of kindergarten.
I worry that I will always have this nose.
I worry that I don't spend enough time with my friends.
I worry that one day, I will really really want to move back to South Carolina.
I worry about our country.
I worry about our society.
I worry about our planet.
I worry that I will never ever have the gift of unwavering willpower.
I worry that I will not leave the footprint that I am capable of leaving.
I worry about icy roads in summer.
I worry that at some point in my life, I will need to react to a life or death situation with a calmness, clarity and strength beyond anything I have ever known. And I worry that I will fail miserably.
I worry that I will never be a patient person.
I worry about Jennifer Aniston.
I worry about people breaking into our house.
I worry about human, solar and planetary spontanious combustion.
I worry that a bridge will collapse the very moment I am driving over it.
I worry that I will never see the New Kids on the Block in concert again.
I worry about the honey bees, bats, polar bears and whales.
I worry that I will never have a body that I truly love.
I worry that my daughter will be the same way.
I worry about natural disasters. I worry so much about them that I won't ever consider traveling to California for fear that "the big one" will hit while I'm there.
I worry that I worry too much to fully enjoy and appreciate my amazing life.