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Growing up is hard for parents

17.01.02 @ 11:51
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On the good side, Warren's wart turned out to be nothing more than a callous. I was pretty sure that was what it was, but like all paranoid mom's I just had to get it checked out, to make sure. Of course this entailed sitting in a waiting room for over 2 hours. We checked in and then went down to the cafe in the hospital for supper. I knew if I made Warren wait to eat he would have been well beyond cranky and so would I. I can't believe how expensive a small supper can cost. Eesh we didn't even have what seemed like that much. Oh well Warren liked it and it is good food I will give Prairie Mill that. Warren was actually very well behaved most of the time given the circumstances and how he would have behaved last year at this time. He sat at the desk and drew pictures with a pencil someone left behind while we waited in the little room for the doctor. (Yes he had paper!). He was relieved when they didnt' have to do anything, and so was I. At this rate I may be soon labeled as one of those attention seeking Munchausen moms. I am not. I am just overly paranoid about my son and is health. I've seen to much in the last few years and I am not taking any chances with my little boy.

Lately I've noticed that I have a tendancy to worry about him all the time. I remember when I was young, and I thought I knew everything. Everything seemed so simple and clear cut back then. I was with it, and knew the world. My parents were out of it, and old fashioned and didn't know anything about the "real" world. Now all of a sudden the shoes have switched feet. I understand my mom and her point of view in a way I thought I never would. All the things my dad used to tell me about being myself and not worrying about others and about peopele in general sounded so stupid and old fashioned, now I understand. I understand more than I ever believed possible. I have in many ways become my parents. I am to my son what my folks were to me. I am closer I think to my son than I was to my parents. He tells me more than I ever told them. But I see it sitll. I know what is out there and what kinds of choices he will face as he gets older. I worry day and night about it.

Drugs, alcholol, bad people, bad choices I have faced them all at one point. I thought I could handle it and I knew it all. But I worry about my son. I dont' want him to have to face it. I know how bad the consequences can be I want to keep my son a little boy in my arms where I can protect him. But he has a destiny to grow up and be his own person. I am scared of him getting hurt. I remember all the stupid things I did as a kid and how immature I really was. I see that in my son and it scares me. I thought I would live forever till I grew up and realized I am as mortal as everyone else. He is still young and some what idealistic. The thought of my son doing some of the things I pulled as a adolescant and teenager is enough to give me nightmares. I remember when I was in high school and my best friend "Chrissy Tina" (not her real name, but a variation on it that she loathed) and I were going to Williston. I remember doing over 90 almost 100 miles and hour down the highway in my little S-10. Neither of us was remotely worried. We were laughing (sober) and goofing off and generally being annoying dumb teenagers. (no offense). I look back now and realize that we could both very easily have been killed in an instant. It would have been my fault, but at the time I felt that nothing bad would ever happen. I think of my son someday driving and it scares the holy hell out of me. I want so much to protect him and yet I can't. And even if I could, would I really be doing him a favor. My parents tried to over protect me, and it backfired big time. I showed them, by dropping out of college hooking up with a looser and getting pregnant. As bad as I hurt them, it was nothing compared to what I did to my self. I never really thought about how my parents felt, but now with my son growing ever older it is suddenly becomming very clear.

I am sure part of it is guilt. I blame a lot of his problems on my self. I am the one who picked a loser to be the father of my child. I am the one who stayed on for 9 years in a very desctructive relationship thinking it would get better, deluding myself. I blame all those years when my son could have had a more normal childhood for what is happening now. It worries me to know end to think of what kind of effect those early years will have on him when he gets older and the really tough choices start to stare him in the face. I want to be there and make the right decisions for him, yet I know I can.t

There is an ancient curse passed from parent to child in a fit of anger that says, someday you will have a child who is just like you or worse, then you will understand. OH God, I hope not. If that is true than I am really in trouble.


Prequels ~ Sequels

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~*~Have you read these~*~

~ Ode to a child who is no more ~
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In every neighborhood there is at least one house that all the neighbors gossip about. This is a diary from the woman who lives in that house. I am a single mother in her mid thirties. I live in North Dakota with my son, Warren.

I tend to be a bit of a slob, and am the opposite of a girly-girl. I am geek girl, who loves Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Buffy, Angel, action movies, science fiction, action adventure, Dr. Who, and so on and so on.

I love to write and while I don't post much fiction online anymore I would love to be a writer someday. I am also overweight, bipolar and suffer from allergy induced asthma.