No one was stirring, not even a mouse ...

Wouldn't you know our little apartment is perfectly quiet.   Three boys sound asleep (and snoring in their respective rooms I might add).  Me ... not so much.   Even though my mommy immune system finally gave in to the virus going around our home, and I haven't had more then 5 hours of consistent sleep in the past two weeks, my brain will not stop.    Most nights I'm asleep within 30 minutes of my head hitting the pillow, but there are other nights where I cannot turn my brain off.  Tonight is one of those ...

I have this slight tendency to worry about hypothetical situations.  Actually, that would be the biggest understatement of a century.  Anxiety is a daily battle.   Its like walking on the edge of a cliff; one wrong move and you're tumbling out of control with no possibility of stopping.  I worry someone will break in.   I worry Husband will get into a car accident coming home from work and dinner will be interrupted by a Police officer at our door.   I worry Little One will be made fun of at school, sit by himself at lunch, or be snatched by some creep when my back is turned for a split second.   I worry Little Two will stop breathing in his sleep and I will go in one morning to a lifeless little body.   I worry every little cold or virus that comes through our home is just a precursor to a more serious and life threatening illness.  I worry I will 'mess up' and forever scar my little ones sending them into years of therapy.   I worry ... 

Part of me recognizes that is part of being a mom: to worry.   Perhaps in some ways it is.  As parents we have to think about every little detail; we are, after all, in charge of their safety.   We should worry about strangers at the playground or fevers of 102.    But where does healthy worry start and ridiculous worry end?  I can't control bullies at school or stay up all night every night making sure they don't stop breathing.   I can't promise I will never make parenting mistakes.  In fact I will, and probably already have, made many.

Where is the magical in between?  Where is the perfect balance of worrying and letting go?  (And why don't parenting books figure it our for you!)  I have no idea, and I am still relatively new at this ... but I hope my little ones know my worry, and perhaps, over protectiveness at times, comes out of my indescribable love for them.   They are, after all, my most precious little ones ...