Worry Wart

When I was a kid I was a bit of a worrier - I distinctly remember spending nights lying awake before doing swimming tests, although quite what I was worried about I can't imagine. Drowning in my beautiful rose-covered pyjamas? As I got older I became a little bit more relaxed, although my mind does still have the ability to pick on a problem, make it much larger than it really is, and nurgle it around for hours on end. Can be quite exhausting.

However, I have become much better at putting problems aside until they really need to be dealt with (something, I may add, my mother still cannot do - the fact that I can sometimes do this makes me strangely proud, like watching evolution in action). Turns out that this often relates only to my own problems - problems about my kids or about close members of my family can still send my mind racing uncontrollably. For example, my dad's been in hospital the last few days with cellulitis, requiring him to keep his leg elevated and go onto an antibiotic drip. Until I actually visited him I had this terrible mental image of the infection charging around his body, and eventually some kind of amputation being required. Ridiculous, I know. But until I saw him I found those images very hard to shake.

Now I have a whole new thing to worry about. Isabel had both good news and bad news today. The good news was that she got her first ever school report and it was brilliant. I mean brilliant. Not a negative word to be said. Imagine my pride! Phrases like "This is an excellent first report Isabel, well done" in the head teacher's comments, and her class teacher saying, "Isabel has made super progress...I will miss her happy smile and ready conversation. Well done Isabel" had me grinning like a Cheshire cat. The bad news however was that she had her health check with the school nurse (finally!) - height and weight were fine, but she was referred to an optician, and also has to re-take the hearing test since she had "some difficulty". So now of course my over-active and uncontrollable mind has me envisaging her in NHS bottle bottom specs with two great big hearing aids on either side of her head. And even if she does need glasses that's going to be a pain in the bum, 'scuse my language, because she's bound to keep losing them or breaking them. Swings and roundabouts I guess.....sigh.