Saturday, August 20, 2011

Living with the FOD, once again.

I am not shy when it comes to talking about much of anything, especially my anxieties, so it may come as no surprise that I feel inclined to blog about the FOD. The FOD is my overwhelming and all-encompassing fear of death which has plagued me ever-so unfortunately since I became a mother. It sucks. And I have it.

I first figured out I had this fear when Nathan was 8 months old and he and I flew to Reno to visit a friend. I was overcome by fear while flying and have not since felt better about it. In subsequent flights I go through the motions of sweaty palms, nausea, heart palpitations, and uncontrollable fear. Needless to say, I do not look forward to traveling, although I am constantly planning the next vacation. I love to escape my life, hoping that the FOD will subside when I leave my routine (which it usually does, although not before being brought to all time new levels on each hideous airplane adventure).

Meanwhile I have recently noticed that the FOD is creeping back into my day to day life. As I drift off to sleep at night I think "one day closer to death". Sooooo depressing. I gotta get over this, if anyone has any reasonable solutions please feel free to offer sugestions. I can't explain this fear, it is totally and utterly irrational and very annoying.

Both of my parents have at one time or another suffered from the FOD, leading me to believe that it's genetic (rats!), so sorry kids. Or maybe someone mentioned it to me at one point and my imagination just went hog wild. Who knows. All I can say is I look forward to the day when I don't freak out about my own existence and just enjoy living for the right now. Hopefully that day will come soon.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Sick Daze

I have been a terrible blogger. I'll admit it, I have to wait for something interesting in my life to happen for me to want to write about it. So far I'm happy to admit that life has just not been that interesting. Until this week.

We spent last weekend at a borrowed house on Lake Ontario in Oswego, NY. The house and property was beautiful, lake front sunsets, hot tub, huge deck setup, fantastic. The downside? The place was unexpectedly overrun with fleas, and the town of Oswego turned out to be a little too bud lite-NASCAR-bowling alley-seedy bar for my taste. Oh well. The other major setback, I think my kid may have been bitten by a tick.

Nathan seemed fine throughout our trip. Better than fine, I couldn't drag him out of the hot tub long enough to towel off. As soon as we arrived home he spiked a fever that still doesn't want to come down. Boo hiss. Poor little dude (who as many of you know is anything but tired and sickly most of the time) has been up all night crying in pain, vomitting, and shaking with fever. Talk about a parenting nightmare.

I've had my share of sick days and nights with my kids but it never fails to raise my anxiety flag whenever they are not well, especially when it doesn't seem to be getting better. Moms are instinctually trained to listen for the sounds of a child vomitting, coughing, breathing funny, you name it, we have it on our radar. We lie in our beds vigilantly waiting for some sign of trouble and leap up into the night to measure out the Tylenol, man the nebulizer, give the back rubs, or whatever the need may be, while our faithful husbands snore away in oblivion. Men don't (in my experience) seem to possess the same barrometer for sickness that we do. Too bad because man am I tired.

Francisco called me to check in on Nathan this morning and was barely listening when I said that he's about the same, not much change. Instead he chirped into the phone "He's better? Great!" and then hung up without saying goodbye. Weird male denial instinct. Huh.

Tonight I am going out with some mom friends for a small respite before my nighttime duty calls. Hooray for mom friends and vodka. Hooray.