I’ve determined that having children has made me psycho. Really. I was pretty laid back when I was growing up. In fact, I was the one that always teased my mom and sister about being stress cases.  I mocked their lists and couldn’t empathize with their ulcers.

 

And then I got pregnant with Barrett. I only drank bottled water my whole pregnancy to avoid lead exposure.  Now I worry that my bottles are taking over the landfills so my children won’t be able to enjoy the Earth. Do I immunize, or not? By the time Barrett was two months old, I’d convinced myself and Tim that he was autistic.  (He’s not.)  I bought organic baby food and natural cleaners. We moved here and now we have hormone-free milk delivered from a dairy. We had an alarm system installed last week (we live a mile from the county jail!) I’ve had to switch baby wash and lotion to avoid the pervasive phthalates that will harm my kids’ reproductive systems. Charlotte’s not rolling over yet - Barrett was at her age! My list goes on and on and on.

 

I think the only answer is a regular trip to the spa (Tim, are you reading??) That, and I guess I need to realize that there’s only so much that I can control. It’s so hard as a mom because you want the world to be perfect for your children. I guess it’s the imperfections, though, that ultimately teach them how to be adults. But sorry Tim, I still can’t give up my organic eggs.