A mother’s worries

I’m celebrating 70 years on the planet next week. I have 3 adulting children and 2 grandchildren (7 and 3). Like so many do, I thought launching the kids after college would be the release ticket from Mom Worries. Hell no. Everyday is a new set of joys and pains to hold in some delicate balance (Think: teetering stack of blocks in the Jenna game that PopPop and I played with our 7 year-old Tess after school yesterday—after about the 18th turn.)
Just yesterday’s worries:
Oldest daughter (41) has to give up foster dog who refuses to play nice with her cats. She (my daughter), always bedeviled by decision making, will look into the dog’s soulful, trusting eyes many times and try to convey why she has to bring him back to the rescue kennel. She will obsess over whether she’ll be doing the right thing. Her sleep will be fitful at best, and so will mine. When she wakes in the morning and is readying “to do the deed,” I already KNOW the dog will be his MOST charming, well-behaved self. Daughter will be more conflicted than ever.
Youngest daughter (34) started her period … late. I know, each month, she struggles to tamp down excited hope at what she perceives to be a dwindling prospect: ‘Maybe this time.’ I think back to the two times in the last couple of years that she and my son-in-law happily announced ‘they were expecting’ — the 2nd time tinged with just a little bit of tentativeness. I think of the dark night of pain and agony she endured in the bathroom as her body gave up on the second-chance child. I think of the seed-of-love necklace she wears in remembrance.
3 year old grandson has not had a happy start at pre-school this fall. To make it easier to avoid a scene that will emotionally drain Mommy at the start of the day, PopPop and I walk down to his house, PopPop toting a wagon behind him. Theo is always happy to see us even though he’s less demonstrative on school days. Subdued but compliant, he gives Mommy a hug and a kiss, then climbs into the wagon. We head for school, quietly. When we get there, we realize Theo’s “had an accident.” Luckily, there’s a change of clothes in his shark backpack. I go behind a bush to help him change. With the wagon in tow, we pick him up at noon. As we meet her and Theo at the door, the class assistant hands us a knotted plastic grocery bag. Another accident. Theo’s dressed in unfamiliar clothes from the classroom’s generic just-in-case-stash. We go “home” — to Grami and PopPop’s, that is, and as he gets out of the wagon, we notice the little orange shorts (from the class closet) are wet. ‘Oh Theo! What is going on in that beautiful little head and body of yours?’

These are 3 burner flare ups on one typical Day in the Life of. Three that I know about anyway. Nothing unusual. Nothing too big. Nothing unmanageable. Just life. Later in the day, the kids and I harvested cherry tomatoes and made mud pies and had pizza. There’s joy.