Worry wart

It must be a mother thing. I don’t remember lying in bed worrying half the night when I was childless. That is probably because until I had kids I did not have a sober night to ponder or reflect. I spent my twenties drunk as a back packer, talking shit like a complete tosser until 5am. Now I spend my nights wide awake fretting about important issues:

Are tomato farmers pissed off with Charlie and Lola?
Will my 10 year old drown at her school swimming lessons and no one notices?
Is my face always going to look this tired, cranky and old?
Are we ever going to have political leaders with bravery and vision?
Is a Paddlepop a well-rounded meal on a Friday night when I’m exhausted?

“Any idiot can face a crisis – its day to day living that wears you out”
– Anton Chekov

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