Like will my child become terminally ill or get hit by a car b/c she ran into the street without looking or how is she going to adjust when we move or am I doing the right things now to raise a “good” person – one who will not get caught up in drugs or stealing or lying – or how on earth will I pay for her college (and her siblings’?) or will she actually tell me if someone touches her in an inappropriate way or, or, or??? See? The “big” stuff is too much. It is what will make you crazy. Which I may just be since I rattled all of that off the top of my head!

(End of peeve.)

http://herbadmother.com/2007/05/this-is-love-song/

That is what mothering is about. All this other stuff? So inconsequential.

I read books that either reassure me or teach me parenting skills.

– “Freakonomics” taught me that the single most reliable indicator of how a child will do in school is the education/intelligence of her mother. Everything else is pretty much fluff.

- “Nurture Shock” taught me how this praise culture is crippling our children and that the true path to success is in giving a child challenges and praising her for her work, for her efforts at overcoming, not just calling her brilliant.

- “How to Talk so Your Kid Will Listen” taught me so much I can’t even list it.

- “Mother’s Almanac” by Margeurite Kelly (and her weekly newspaper column “Family Almanac” teaches me concrete skills and also how little there is to truly worry about.

I’m also wicked smart, myself, and know that it’s no road to happiness. I’ve known plenty of doctors and lawyers who have rotten personal lives. I wouldn’t want my child to be “successful” like that. I want her to be successful in life skills, in relationship skills, in being comfortable in her own skin.

Another way I fight the worry is that I think that marketers exploit parents’ worry to sell them things – safety devices, bigger cars, private schools. I resent the hell out of that, so I enjoy rebelling against the worry they spawn. That actually helps a lot, thinking of “sticking it to the man.”

I find my worries have an OCD aspect to them. They are ruts I can get into. I find it’s best to have something else to think about when I find myself starting to worry, so it doesn’t get into a rut. Really just not letting myself indulge in the worry is the best thing for me.

First, my mom was not a worrier. She came by that the hard way (warning: tragic story ahead.) My older sister was killed in an accident when I was 4 and she was 6. Needless, to say, it changed my mother. One of the ways it did was that she decided that she could do everything right (and she did) and it still may not be enough to protect her children (it wasn’t. My sister was actually run over by her school bus.)

So my mom accepted she couldn’t control everything. Thank goodness for my sake, that she did. I could see a mother reacting by clamping down and worrying even more. I was spared that, fortunately.

I also had a dad who pushed me to be independent, to climb that tree, etc. I think that was because he was the youngest of 8 and was constantly told he was too little for stuff.

So those are gifts they have given me, gifts I want to pass on. Of course, you can’t control what kind of parents you got, but I can tell from how you write that your husband is a great father, so your girl will do just fine. I’m sure you’ve heard the truism that girls get their self-confidence from their relationships with their fathers, right?

I’m also not too much of a worrier. Glad to find someone else like that because the blogosphere seems mainly populated with worriers.

Um, you could try hiring an au pair, or simply see if you could arrange a short-term swap … there must be someone reminiscing about parenting a 4-year old. My 3 year old won’t shut up right now, or sleep past 7:30 (which I know plenty of people would be grateful for — I mean, that it’s not 5:30), and I know it’s just going to be a blink of the eye before (… he’s a teenager and) I’m complaining that he won’t talk to me, or get out of bed before noon.