I have no specific blog topic today.
I still want to write though or likely overshare, so instead of being deliberate, methodical or any combination thereof, I’m just going to type and see what happens.
The baby and I are headed to San Diego next week for five full days, and I’m equal parts terrified and excited. Scratch that, it’s probably 70% freaked out, which I assume is a normal ratio when one becomes a parent, completely responsible for another living and breathing human being. That shit is hard.
My mind has already run down all the rationale things which could possibly go wrong: Ave refuses to sleep in a new place. Ave clings to my pant legs even while I use the bathroom and shower. Ave wakes up at 4:20 in the morning just for the hell of it. Ave refuses to let anyone else entertain her. Ave gets more and more over tired and spirals into a demon spawn. Ave hollers the entire plane ride and all the other passengers glare at me.
Technically all of my fears are founded, because they’ve happened at one point or another in her short existence, minus the plane bit, and only because she’s never traveled on one before.
I know, I know, my mind is working in overdrive, and yet having these worries is part and parcel when you become a parent, maybe even more so for folks diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety (cough, me, cough).
It can be overwhelming at times, messy as hell and frustrating when others say, “Relax, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal. She’s fine. You’re fine.”
Gee thanks, like I didn’t think of those things already.
Despite my concerns, or maybe even because of them, we’re going for it.
Ave and I are foraging ahead, hopping on a jet plane, and embarking on a new adventure. We’re going to create some magical memories and most likely another thing to be anxious about. Welcome to parenting.
I suppose I’m sharing this because I want you to know having fears, especially when it comes to tiny humans is totally normal. After all, once bitten, twice shy. The point though is not to let those same concerns dictate your decisions.
I’m 100% comfortable with the tiny dictator knowing her mother had/has anxiety because there is no shame in it. I also want her to know I never let it hold us back.
This post was originally titled Blah, Blah, Blah, but after seeing where my fingers frolicked I renamed it Leaving on a Jet Plane. What are your anxieties? Any advice for traveling solo with a toddler?