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Saturday, May 18, 2013

Who Else Has an Over-Developed Sense of Worry?


Julie’s recent blog about motherhood got me thinking about my mom. Lots of people who knew Homerun Clara will tell you she had a great sense of humor. If you knew her well, you also know she had an overdeveloped sense of worry—and maybe to prove her sense of humor, she generously passed her worry gene along.
Among my inherited worries are my obsession to repeatedly recheck the gas burner, iron, coffee pot, and toaster-oven so I don’t “burn down the house,” and my compulsion to call my neighbor or drive back around the block to confirm I really did close the garage door.
The full list of worries she passed along to me is too extensive to name, but if I had a buck for every time she worried out loud about me “cracking my head open,” it’s safe to say I’d have a healthier 401K.
And, speaking of cracking things open, my mom taught me never, ever, to crack an egg right into the cake or cookie batter, to always crack it into a separate bowl in case the egg was rotten. So, all these years later, I still dirty a separate bowl every time I bake, in spite of the fact that I’ve never once in all my egg-cracking years, cracked open a rotten egg.
They say worry lives mostly in our head, and the best way to shake it is to walk smack into it.
So here goes. Today I officially ditch my egg-cracking worry. From now on, if you eat a cookie I baked, be forewarned. Those eggs were cracked right into the cookie dough.
But, don’t panic. I’m not going completely off the worry grid.
I’ll still wear my bike helmet EVERY time I ride.
Cracking eggs is one thing, but I don’t need to worry about cracking my head open!

13 comments:

  1. I live with a worrier, my husband Bernie. Without fail, he checks every door even if I swear I locked it, before bed each night and when the car is idling in the driveway as we are about to take off.

    I call him "Mr. Worse Case Scenario" because he thinks about all of the bad things that could occur on a vacation or just on a normal half hour trip. "Do we have enough gas?" he asks on every drive, like we're in the Mojavi dessert with no gas for 100 miles. I have learned to laugh at this, realizing I married his yang to compensate for my risky yin.

    I've never had a rotten egg in my life either, Carol. And I agree with the bike helmet idea, even though we survived childhood in the city without them. (We're not as balanced as we were back then.)

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    1. Chris, maybe your yin to my yang is why our friendship works, too. carol

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  2. Worry? Me? I check every egg to see if it floats before I crack it open.

    I don't ride a bike, but I'm sure I'd cover myself in bubble wrap and protective gear before getting on one if I did....

    Oy.

    Love this post.

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    1. Thanks, Barbara. And, thanks for making me laugh. Carol

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    2. Barbara answered for me lol Love this post Carol. It reflects so many of us in our esteemed adulthood.

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  3. Liberation! How sweet.

    I'm now enjoying the post-65 stage of my life: It is what it is. But I still zap the automatic door lock a second time. Just to be sure.

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    1. I guess ome habits die harder. thanks for posting carol

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  4. Great stuff! Being single, I am a chronic double-checker. My mantra every morning when I head out to walk the dog:

    Phone, keys, poopbag, coffee, dog: Go!

    But I'm too afraid to hide an extra key anywhere near the house...don't want to walk in on someone who found it before I did!

    Thanks for the laugh!

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  5. Love your mantra. I might sub in Jim for dog and borrow it

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  6. although I tried hard to instill a sense of worry in my kids, they grew up to be pretty healthy adults. they laugh at the memory of us playing the "what if" game. We would ask them things like; "what if a stranger told you that your mom was in the hospital and they were sent to bring you to me?" Thankfully they are well adjusted people and not the crazy paranoids that I tried to make them into. :)

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    1. Ah, the What if game. Big in my family, too :) carol

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  7. My mother was a class act worrier. That woman had it down to a science. She did it beautifully and gracefully, although I never told her that. But she did. Worrying for her was an art form and she did so much of it that it freed up the rest of us from needing to be so emotionally invested. My sister and I often thought "Why worry? Mom's got us covered."
    My mom has been gone for three years this month. I miss her. I miss her hands weaving away with the crochet needles (aka "mom's worry sticks), I miss seeing her fingers move along her rosary and the barely audible prayers that she whispered with a fervent urgency, I miss hearing her say, I worry because I love you.

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    1. Jennie, I envy that you could let go of worry and let your mom cover it.
      and, I get that letting go of Mom is much harder than letting go of worry.
      thanks for stopping by carol

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