Category Archives: anxiety

July 5, 2011 · 6:03 pm

The Standoff

Dylan and I are having a standoff over new food…again! (FYI:  New food is anything Dylan won’t eat, including but not limited to chicken, turkey, meat and pizza.)  Finn McMissile with “shooters” is at stake.  Let me explain.  

My Shopaholic Mini-Me is obsessed with Cars 2 and buying Cars 2 toys.  I’m definitely guilty of buying the boys a few cars from the movie, but Dylan has taken it to a whole new level.  Yesterday, he declared it was “Toy Day.”  Silly us, we thought it was the 4th of July!  He assumed that meant we would go to the toy store and buy new toys and then play Cars 2 all day.  My interpretation was a little bit different.  I filled several bags with old toys to bring to Goodwill.  (Yay, Shopaholic Mama!)  

This morning, Dylan told me he wants Finn McMissile with “shooters.”   I said, “Fine, but you have to earn it.  You have to eat a new food.   Chicken, turkey or pizza.  You choose.  If you take a bite, I’ll take you to the toy store.”  Can you believe this is even a battle? Eating pizza for a toy?!

Yesterday afternoon, Mike went swimming with the boys.  As soon as he opened the pool fence, Riley jumped right in and swam like a madman until Mike literally forced him out.  Dylan, however, wouldn’t put his feet in the water because he decided he was afraid of (1) pool chemicals and (2) a spider in the water.  We explained that pool chemicals keep the water clean and clear and that that they don’t hurt people (and that he’s gone in the pool a million times before!).  Mike even skimmed the pool to get rid of every bug and imaginary spider he could find, but it didn’t matter.  Dylan decided he was afraid and that was that.  Frustrated, I took him inside while Riley frolicked in the water.

Sometimes I have all the patience in the world to deal with Dylan’s anxieties.  He gets it from me, so I have a lot of compassion.  Other times, though, I just get frustrated.  When I see Riley swimming with abandon or eating chicken or doing forward rolls at My Gym, I wish Dylan could be more like him.  This is where Mama Guilt swallows me whole.

I don’t really want Dylan to be more like Riley.  Believe me, he’s perfect just the way he is.  But I do wish I could figure out how to get him to let go.  And if I ever figure it out, maybe I’ll learn to let go, too.  Until then, it’s a standoff.  New food for Finn McMissile.  I have a feeling no one’s going to win this one.

Leave a comment

Filed under anxiety, Cars, guilt, Guilty Mama, shopaholism, toys

June 28, 2011 · 8:51 pm

Four Eyes

I’ve had a lot of nicknames during my 35 years.  When I was a kid, my friends called me Jumpin’ Jenny.  I guess I had some pep in my step back then.  In college, I was Papa Smurf (I can’t remember why).  In graduate school, I was Sparky.  I don’t really have a nickname now, although Mike calls me JT (long story) and Dylan sometimes calls me Stinky Pants.
Now you can call me Four Eyes.  I went to the eye doctor last week because I was feeling a lot of tension and fatigue in my eyes.  I don’t wear glasses so I figured it was stress (i.e. motherhood), and as you can imagine, there were a few days when I feared it was some kind of cancer.  In the end, though, it turns out I’m just farsighted.  “Normal wear and tear of the eyes,” said the eye doctor.  In other words, I’m getting old.
I always thought of eyeglasses as an exotic and exciting fashion accessory.  It was kind of fun to pick out the frames, especially since my insurance covered almost all of it (guilt-free shopping!), but the reality of this new accessory has been a little bit less glamorous.
I’ve had the new glasses for a few hours and I’ve already taken them on and off at least a dozen times.  I need them for activities like reading, working at the computer and using my cell phone, which as it turns out, is a lot.  (Words With Friends can happen anywhere!)  I don’t know what to do with them once I take them off because I don’t know if I’m going to need them again in 10 seconds or 10 minutes.  I put them down in one room and then I walk into another room and realize I need them again.  I’m going nuts!
Deep breath.  Okay, my panic attack is over.  If I can give birth to two children and teach Dylan that it’s not nice to call someone Stinky Pants (especially his mother!), I should be able to figure out how to deal with these glasses.
What do you think?

Leave a comment

Filed under anxiety, eyeglasses, nicknames