Nutty about games!

It’s said to be an old wives tale that worry makes your hair go grey, but I beg to differ.

When I had my first son I noticed my very first grey hairs. A year following the birth of our second son, I am getting noticeably grey at the front (and I also am developing crows feet). Ok, so it’s not qute as bad as it may sound, but I definitely notice the difference - and I think my children caused it.

You see, no matter how much a father loves their children, they will never - ever - even begin to understand a mother’s love.

We worry about everything. All the time.

I am terrified when my eldest goes to nursery, and not just because I am leaving him in the hands of a bunch of strangers that don’t really know him as I do. I worry that on the way there someone will drive onto the pavement straight into us; I worry that my eldest will let go of my hand and run into the road or that he will get stuck in the doors of the bus; I worry I’ll accidentally let go of the buggy and it will go straight into the path of an oncoming vehicle.

Once he is there I worry that something will happen to me and I won’t able to pick him up from nursery in time; that he will seriously hurt himself at nursery or another kid will bully him and make him unhappy, or a member of staff will tell him off for something he hasn’t done.

I even worry when we are in the house - every fall, bump, bang or scrape has me fretting that something serious has happened to my children. If they have bruised shins (as boys often do) I imagine social services seeing them and coming to take my babies away. Every cough, sneeze and fever is something more serious in my imagination.

I have to stop myself from checking on them too often when they are asleep. When I do, I go into their room and place my hand on their chest to make sure they are breathing, then I cover them up, and give them a kiss and sometimes a cuddle, often disturbing them in the process. When Nicholas was a baby I would go upstairs every 5 to 10 minutes to see if he was ok. With Gabe I didn’t have to do this - he slept in my bed!

My two greatest fears…well, I simply won’t discuss them here as I will think about them constantly. A slightly lesser fear is me dying and them not having their Mummy around to take care of them. I mean, can I imagine Daddy happily changing nappies, giving them three meals a day plus snacks and reading them nice bedtime stories? Er, I don’t think so.

I think about when they get older and they don’t want to cuddle me any more, and when they can go out alone and something bad might happen to them, or when they leave home and I don’t know what they are up to or if they are safe…

I was just reading the news and saw the headline ‘two year old dies at nursery’ and instantly went into panic mode; wandering around the house crying and hyperventiliating, imagining myself to be the parents of this child and, well, just basically overreacting and freaking out. I don’t know why I even check the news when it upsets me so, but time and again I read such stories that will have be dwelling and moping and thinking far too deeply for sometimes weeks on end. 

Before I had my children, none of these worries existed. Not one.

Now, I do think I worry a little more than most other mothers do - correct me if I’m wrong. But there is nothing I can do about it. I was talking to my Mum the other day and she said that when we were little she was rather like me, and even now she has a moment of panic thinking about us so far away from her. She has one daughter in the states, and I am about a five hour drive from her, and the separation must be dreadful, even though we speak almost every day.

Anyway, if I keep going on like this I’m going to be completely grey by 30 I reckon (yes, and that’s not so far off, I know)!

On the other hand I am catching up with my Nano following a few disturbed nights courtesy of fireworks disturbing the boys, and Steve, who wanted me to game with him. I don’t think he’s too happy that I’m doing this as he doesn’t get to spend any time with me in the evenings now but I try to keep reminding him it’s not forever. It’s just something I have to do; I failed last year, and I don’t want to fail again. I hope it’s worth it.