My mother-in-law has been asking us to let Little Man go to the mountains with her and her husband since the kid was four. Every summer she has asked, I’ve said “no.”
Why? Anxiety, of course. Well, I’ve always told them “he’s just too young,” but really–anxiety.
Now Little Man is 7, and my MIL asked about him going to the mountains near the end of July. She asked a few weeks ago, and my husband and I talked it over.
“You know he’d love it,” Sam told me.
“I know. But, what if (everything that could go wrong)?”
“That won’t happen.”
We talked. And talked. And talked some more. Finally, I agreed to let LM go to the mountains at the end of July. I didn’t want to let him go, but figured that I could probably make myself be somewhat okay with it in two months.
Today, my MIL calls and talks to my husband. I overhear part of the conversation and Sam says, “…that’s fine with me, let me check with E.”
He covers the mouthpiece of the phone. “They’re going to the mountains this weekend instead of at the end of July. We don’t have any plans this weekend, do we?”
“It’s fine,” he tells his mom and hangs up shortly thereafter.
“They decided to go this weekend so it won’t be as hot,” he explained and then went about his business.
This weekend. He’ll be leaving in less than three days. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Instantly a bunch of horrible scenarios pop in my head.
What if they have a wreck?
What if they lose him?
What if someone kidnaps him?
What if he falls off the mountain at an overlook?
What if there’s a pool at the hotel they stay at and he drowns?
Nooooo, he doesn’t need to go. Nope. And then:
But if I don’t let him go, what if we have a wreck and someone hits his side of the car and kills him and he wouldn’t have been in there had I let him go?!
That sort of thing.
(This was the one good thing about Zoloft–it definitely decreased my anxiety a bit. Sure, it made me zombied out and worsened depression, but it helped anxiety! I foresee a lot of Klonopin being consumed this weekend.)
It shouldn’t be this hard to let your kid go on a weekend trip with the grandparents. At least my husband’s mom and stepdad, anyway. They’re mostly wonderful, especially compared to my dad.
My dad has been after me to let him take LM on a weekend beach trip with my nephew (who is a few months younger) since LM was 3. I’ve always said no, because my dad didn’t pay attention that great when we were kids (my brother always got lost on family vacations), and now he is always on his phone to add to the list of things that distract him. I don’t doubt that they wouldn’t have fun, but the risk of the boy falling off the pier is fairly legitimate, on top of my not-so-legitimate fears.
But back to this weekend. Did I say “gah”? Yeah, well now I’ll add “ugh.” I’m debating ordering a GPS watch on Amazon for LM and having it sent overnight. I’ve already tried that sort of thing before and it didn’t work too well, but if I can find a good one (and get Sam on board to actually buy one) it might help.
Sam told LM about the change in the mountains plans over dinner. The kid is soooo excited.