From the minute my children were born, I was convinced terrible and frightening things would happen to them.
Actually I take that back - in the beginning I was convinced I was being stalked and someone would club me over the head in the park and drag me off into a ditch and cut my fetus out with a car key or something (WHY DID THAT STUFF END UP ON THE NEWS ONLY WHEN I WAS PREGNANT? ) At any rate, I avoided any DIY c-section attempts and managed to make it to their births.
...At which point I flipped out because they were going to be kidnapped from the hospital, a nurse would drop them, they would catch a drug resistant staph infection, they'd get injected with HIV by accident, I'd be given the wrong baby and not find out for like 15 years, my babies had horrible birth defects that we didn't know about yet and would die any minute.... Yeah. The nurses probably loved me. It has only gotten worse.
Now that my girls are pre-schoolers, and gorgeous ones at that, in my totally unbiased opinion, I am convinced some strange man is always lurking in the shadows to kidnap and rape them, or something equally awful. I am the epitome of a helicopter mother. My children are never out of my reach, just in case I need to snatch them away from a pedophile or karate-chop a stranger with candy in the Adam's apple. Part of the way my bipolar manifests itself is with irrational and obsessive fears...but it could happen, right? I wonder if "normie" moms secretly feel like I do, but they just don't want to admit it. Or maybe I'm nuts. Six of one, who really cares.
Moving along, today was an absolutely beautiful day. During my last hour of work or so, I decided it would be fun to take the girls and the family dog to the park for a hike. A little fun, a little sun - wholesome family good times!
But wait...it's 5 o'clock. It might get dark soon. It's going to get dark while I'm in the middle of the park. It's going to get dark and I'm going to be alone in the woods with the kids and the dog. There are rapists in the park. Rapists looking for women with children. In the dark. Alone. The dog is going to attract wild animals. Wild animals and rapists. Bears will eat us. Bears will eat us all. And raccoons. Raccoons with rabies. And werewolves. Werewolves in the park. I can hear them howling. They are going to eat me. They are going to eat me and the kids OH MY GOD IT WILL GET DARK IN THE PARK!!! ZOMBIES!!!!!!! - isn't my head a funny place?
So yeah, I worked myself into a mental frenzy over effing ZOMBIES AND WEREWOLVES, of all things. I am 27, I thought I'd outgrow this boogieman shit, but no. I have a "thing" with zombies...
Needless to say, we went for ice cream instead. Well, we were GOING to go for ice cream , before I decided it would be poisoned and kill me and I'd vomit blood and die, so we bought ice cream at the grocery store, I inspected the carton for hypodermic needle marks, and THEN we had ice cream. After using hand sanitizer.
I know this just sounds totally ridiculous and over the top, I do. But it's true. Can I tell you how humiliating it is to be 27 and ranting about zombies? Flipping out because the ceiling fan might cut your head off? Running screaming from anyone using tinfoil (SHUT UP, IT'S DISTURBING. OK????)
Of all the wacky crap I do, this is actually one of the things I am most afraid of passing onto my kids. I want them to love life, explore nature, travel the world, and follow their dreams - not talk themselves out of doing simple things. I want them to genuinely enjoy being outdoors and meeting new people, not planning an escape route the entire time.
But when the apocalypse comes? At least I know I've trained them well in zombie survival tactics.
That goes for something, right?