Time to tighten your tinfoil helmets, because today I'm going to discuss more of my irrational fears. These are things that statistically will probably never happen, but none the less keep me awake at night.
My biggest fear lately is that some big, scary disease will descend upon Chickenhead. I know that most moms always worry a little about their kids getting sick. No. This is different. I am terrified of the prospect of Chickenhead getting some sort of incurable cancer or some wasting disease or something. Whenever I see bruises on his legs (which is a lot since he's been playing football), a little voice in the back of my head pipes up- 'Oh noes! He's got the leukemia!' (yes, the little voice in my head speaks like a lolcat) Now the bigger(hopefully)more rational part of my brain knows that this is highly unlikely, but LolKel just won't shut up sometimes. So I desperately fight the urge to wrap him in bubblewrap before he leaves the house each day, and I pray nightly that he doesn't get anything incurable.
I also fear that when Chickenhead grows up, he will end up scruffy, dirty and homeless, panhandling on the streets of Downtown. Writing this and reading it back, I can fully see how ridiculous this sounds. Chickenhead is a bright boy, and I seriously doubt he will ever be homeless or panhandling. If you've ever seen his room, you would know that I can't make any promises about scruffy or dirty. I think I've been watching too much 'Intervention'. All those poor folks were semi-normal kids once, too.
A while back I read a story about a racoon hiding in a Coke machine. Whenever someone would buy a drink, the racoon would attack their hand as they reached in for their bottle. Obviously, this had to have been some soda machine that was outdoors somewhere, but do you think that stops me from hesitating just a little whenever I go to grab that bottle of Diet Coke? Even though our soda machine is safely indoors on the 4th floor of the building no less, I still always hesitate. Be careful when you buy a Coke from a machine is what I'm trying to tell you.
I noticed that I still have a fear of falling down an escalator. Would this be potentially worse than falling down a regular flight of stairs? What if I fell, and say, my pant leg got caught between the steps, and it just pulled me down and ripped my pants? Good Lord, the humanity! This terrifies me almost more than the thought of a snake under the kitchen sink, a bat in the basement, H1N1 or alien abduction. I will hold my breath as I take that first step on to a down elevator and breathe a slight sigh of relief about halfway down.
Hopefully now that I've written all this nonsense down, it will help to diminish the fear. Maybe if I can keep re-reading and realize how nuts I sound, I can overcome these irrational thoughts. Somehow I doubt it.