Scribbling Dame

Preposterous Pondering.

The Mother of all Fears August 1, 2012

Filed under: Mommy Issues — Scribbling Dame @ 8:43 pm
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We have rounded the corner on month four of keeping two children alive. So far so good. Ellie is finally taking a bottle (I never thought someone would love my boobs more than my husband…) and Sofia is enjoying her summer shenanigans (which includes getting into minor trouble for saying potty words under the table at school–don’t know where she picks this stuff up from…ahem.)

There is something I noticed this time around, that started when I had Sofia and continues today, now centered more around Ellie. I am speaking of an uncanny ability to envision the most horrific dangers that could possibly ever happen to my children. Let me share some examples;

A normal person might be afraid to drop a baby–a valid concern. A Mother’s fear is more like being terrified of tripping whilst wearing the baby bjorn and landing on said baby resulting in a head squashed like watermelon on the pavement.

Pretty fucked up huh?

Once you become a mother, in the back of your mind, you fear the worst…


There are some more obvious fears like SIDS, which for me manifests itself in a slightly weird noise heard over the monitor that was probably nothing but what if it’s choking and I don’t get out of bed to check then she dies and it’s all my fault.

Sunburns=cancer potential

Accidentally feeling a buzz from dinner wine (as a breastfeeding mommy)=BAS (Baby Alcohol Syndrome) which is probably not real, but I feel potentially guilty for anyway.


I suppose this is what they call “motherly instinct” or also paranoia.


Jet Setting March 23, 2010

Filed under: Mommy Issues,SuperWoman Syndrome — Scribbling Dame @ 5:49 pm
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I am typing in my hotel room in Albany New York. I had a great day on a client visit where I totally nailed it.

I have mixed emotions about travel–especially since I became a mother. First I am a total control freak so letting the pilot control my fate at 30,000 feet in the air is not something that sits lightly with me. The older I get, the worse I am about this–I had to take a Vicodin on the way here just to chillax. Just one more notch on the typical suburban mom belt–abuse of perscription drugs.  

On the one hand I love to travel for work–I only have to do it once or twice a year and it means I get to eat hot meals uninterrupted and watch really bad TV in my hotel room. I usually paint my toenails or read a book (note to self: bring swimsuit on future trips just in case there is a hot tub). I can get up 30 minutes before I have to leave because that is how fast I get myself ready versus the usual 1.5 hours when I am trying to get baby girl and husband out of the house (I understand why the two-year-old is high maintenance but I swear I don’t know what the man does that takes so long to get ready…)

But, there is a downside. First of all leaving is awful–this was the first trip where I explained to Sofia that mommy was going on an airplane and would not be home for a couple of days. I got the cold-shoulder that night when I went to give her a kiss goodnight–not just the cold shoulder–I was actually denied! She was angry with me and of course that made me tear up because what if that was our last goodnight kiss ever (in case the plane breaks in half from turbulence or gets hijacked which totally happened in every Hardy Boys book I ever read). Even though it’s been two years since giving birth, that instinct is still there and strong–the sense that it is wrong, even dangerous, to leave her side. It’s a drag.

Then there is the whole realization, in a hotel room by myself, gassy with travel food, watching Extreme Dr. 90210 (hypothetically speaking of course) that I don’t even like alone time anymore. That as much as I might complain about cold meals and noise and no rest I can’t wait to get on that plane, survive the flights home, and get that welcome hug and kiss from my baby girl and hubby.

My life as a modern working mother is a complete fucking paradox all the time.


Scaredy-Mom February 21, 2010

Filed under: Mommy Issues,SuperWoman Syndrome — Scribbling Dame @ 10:33 pm
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I pride myself on being a pretty fierce broad. I have done and said things that other people in my shoes would probably not have the balls to do or say. In fact, part of my charm is that I will still have more balls than people around me in most cases, when it comes to saying or doing things that might be hard to do or say.

However, and it feels like since motherhood my life has become full of howevers, I find myself scared now more than usual. I am less willing to take risks and there is an instinctual caution that I experience. At the most basic level I just cannot watch the news, movies or shows where children are kidnapped, maimed or abused. I have an intense physiological reaction and I can so worked up that I start feeling nauseated. The only explanation I could come up with was instinct–like a mother animal who knows her kids (and husband 🙂 ) would starve without her, I can’t allow myself to get into any scenario where death is a possibility, and the unknown is definitely risky.

I am starting to think that almost any questions that come up after becoming a mother can be answered with two things: hormones and instinct. For men it’s death and taxes.

I also noticed the fear phenomenon when I went on a business trip to Atlanta a few months ago. I was by myself and had never been there, and I was unwilling to take a train at night to my hotel. I also wouldn’t go out to eat alone at night. I suddenly became dainty and fragile and fearful, which I had never been before Sofia. I would have torn up the town in my younger sans-child days.

Now I find myself scared again at making some pretty big life decisions about my house and my career and what directions my husband and I should pursue, and I am terrified of risk. I am not one to dwell in the ambiguous in general–I like my routines and everything to have its place, but I recognize that we need to change direction or we are going to live a waking death, numb to happiness, and slaves to routine.

I think that as much as I am responsible for Sofia’s survival, she is in fact more influential on mine: I suddenly analyze the weight of all my decisions and actions–or lack thereof, and I constantly ask myself, “Is this what I want to teach Sofia? Is my decision or action showing her the best way to live life?”  Being able to answer yes to both of those questions is the only thing that gives me the gusto to do what I need to do, even when I think I might crap myself.


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