Earlier this week, my ladies' Bible Study posted an event to their Facebook page: "Learn how to pre-cook meals for a month!"
Now this is on my list. My "Do 101 Things in 1001 Days" List (tho' my list only has 66 items on it so far, doh! ... But, I've still started doing some of them. Go me.)
The general idea is that you cook a massive amount of food, one weekend a month, freeze it, then consume it throughout the month, thus decreasing daily meal prep/clean up time. And boy, do I need to decrease our meal prep/clean-up time. I swear, I spent 4 hours a day (on good days!) cooking from scratch and then scrubbing my scratch off my pots and pans. Also, this doesn't include the meal planning and shopping hours, either. Evidently, those are illimitable.
So, I get all excited about learning from another woman who does this routinely. And then, I notice that kids can't come to the event. Well darn, I can't go then. Why, you ask? Becaaaaause Little One doesn't have a babysitter here in our home state, because we've been gone so much across the past seven months that (a) I never sought one out, and also because (b) she's a little freaked out by all the change that's occurred during her wee life and (c) her super freaked-out responses to the last several times I've tried to leave her with a sitter/stranger/Sunday-School-teaching-grandma/ANY OF ANY KIND OF NOT-MOMMA has traumatized us both much, much more than I ever expected.
Three months ago, I was blithe and optimistic about the resilience of children, and how "if you just don't give in/bail them out/keep visiting the Sunday School classroom, they'll adjust to anything just fiiiiiiine."
Now, I'm genuinely unsure. And quite gunshy. And so is she.
Thus, when a nice neighbor, who has a daughter nearly the same age, (and both girls seem to get along great) saw my "Wish I could come, but must stay with child" reply on the Facebook page and promptly offered to watch my daughter so I could go... I balked. Mentally froze. Completely. Wanted to accept. Wanted to decline. Wished I'd never considered going in the first place. Cursed my public post on their Facebook page, etc.
I don't want to be one of those parents who is all like, "Oh, Precious can't stay with anyone except Grandmarmee!" Really. I don't.
But, I also swore she'd watch zero TV (that was before fingernail clipping failed) and I would not worry if she was slow to hit milestones (this was before the wide-eyed doctor informed me that she was in the 3rd percentile for weight) and I would chuckle calmly if she did life in a different order (yet, I found myself calling the dentist recently, in a near panic, because her THREE YEAR OLD molars were appearing before her front teeth were in - "Is this normal?!!!")
So. Not advocating that wannabe parents everywhere plan on deserting their principles. (She still sleeps in her own bed, and ask nicely for "more," sits at the table while eating, plays by herself routinely, and isn't allowed to hit. There are limits, I promise.) But, this whole "Leave her with other people" hurdle has just about given me an ulcer.
After 36 hours of secretive fretting - feeling self-conscious that I WAS so nervous... trying to talk myself out of it, etc. I finally chided myself into proceeding to the "SOLVING" phase of thought, and it promptly occurred to me: "You should explain to your nice neighbor that you're nervous. And that Little One hasn't done so well with new caregivers thus far. And can we maybe try a 45-minute trial run, before the multi-hour event?"
After procrastinating about four more hours, I called her. Explained. She was totally understanding and thought my "trial run" plan was a capital idea.
Good. I can go pick up my prescription. That'll take about 25 minutes. And spare little one from more germs. Perfect.
And I started breathing normally again.
... Why do I make small things so huge? Particularly within parenting? This ranked right up there with "Why do my cloth diapers smell like ammonia again?" - which was the other half of today's worry marathon. Heh.
Going to go drink a large glass of cold milk now.
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