MUMSFRET

As a mum of three, I think I qualify as an authority on the trials, tribulations and emotional highs and lows of motherhood.  Being a hyper sensitive nutter as well is the Masters Degree on top.  So tell me, is there such a thing as ‘tragiphobia’?  Am I the only mum who dreads tragedy knocking on my door?  I blame the media (even though I long to be a paid member of it).  Turn on the radio or TV, open the newspaper and there are the shocking and sad stories that slip quietly into my brain and pierce my heart because they are about the awful things that happen to peoples sons and daughters (not to mention husbands, but that’s another blog altogether).  Because I have little or no sensitivity barrier, this seemingly violent and dangerous world has given me such jitters regarding the safety of my adult babies, I skip sensibility and jump to worst case scenario at the least opportunity.  When they fail to text when staying out overnight or cycle somewhere (no helmet) or announce that they will be travelling to some distant country, my overcrowded mind conjures up a list of potential hazards in advance as if such thoughts could somehow prevent them occurring.   Don’t get me wrong, I have never been a clingy or interfering mother and there are no apron strings in sight.  I do actually look forward to the permanent occupants of my house only consisting of me and my man and the freedom of not having to cover up my bits and even use them more often!  Luckily I do have hidden under all my neuroses a sensible streak that gives me the strength to deal with fait a complis and tell myself that they must live their lives as they wish and that worry and panic changes absolutely nothing. But the worry demon will always sit on my shoulder and I am sure all mums have to live with that little green monster because it comes with the territory but  I value my time on this planet and as far as I know, living in fear of tragedy is nobody’s idea of fun.