Too Much of a Worry Wart

Very odd dreams last night featuring a full cast of characters, stairs without handrails or landings, gardens made completely of stone, and an overall theme that burdens should not be a solitary effort.

If I were to pick it apart, I know that one of those efforts is my daughter and this week we've spent apart. And though I know it's a good thing for her to get in some extra time with her father while the summer months allow, I can't help but miss her to distraction when she's gone. And of course, I worry...

Worry that her Dad doesn't always make the best choices when it comes to what she watches on TV, what time she goes to sleep, whether she eats a healthy breakfast, lunch and dinner or dines on a mountain load of empty calories, or if she's outside without supervision in the yard. My worries and the list of them are endless.

And yet I do know that she is safe there. That he takes care of her in his own way, and that she enjoys the temporary escape out from under her Mother's thumb. The ten year old wisdom that announces to the world that her Mother is much more than just a tad bit overprotective and that as far as trusting the world at large, her Mom doesn't subscribe to it. Not one little bit...

I laugh to myself thinking how much now I sound like my Grandma Angie. I can remember her fretting away each time my sister and I were on the loose. She had a way of saying "Ooooh," every time she caught site of us playing in the yard dangling from trees or sneaking into the forbidden broken down barn out back to look for buried treasures. "You girls," seemed to be the way she started every sentence, though it could finish in a number of different ways. One thing however always held true, Grams had constant agida over us.