Parenting

It's such a gorgeous fall day.  I decided to skip running and took Walter on an extra long walk to the Brooklyn Heights promenade.  All of the tourists were there, smiling for the cameras with the big city and the Brooklyn Bridge behind them.  It's really a stunning view, but I was having a hard time appreciating it. I was walking and stewing at the same time.

Those who know me also know that I'm a huge worrywart.  Any tiny concern tends to become monumental once I get a hold of it.  Before having a child, I was mostly a hypochondriac, fretting about every little ailment and convincing myself of my own impending doom.  Once parenthood hit me, I became a full blown freak show.  In a way, it was a blessing in disguise, because it forced me to change my lifestyle.  There's no room for nut jobs when it comes to parenting.  So I started exercising.  I took up running, yoga, meditation, acupuncture, therapy, antidepressants and new age spiritual healing.  I even gave up drinking, smoking  and caffeine, although the coffee seems to be creeping back into my regimen.  Anyway, if there's a self-help mechanism out there that I haven't tried, you'd be hard pressed to find it.  But sometimes I still lose my equilibrium.  Something as innocuous as scheduling a pediatrician's visit can still unleash my worry beast.

Don't get me wrong.  Being a mother is far and away the best thing that ever happened to me.  I still can't believe how much I love my daughter.  I had no idea I was even capable of this kind of love.  She's so amazing and I can't believe how lucky I am to be the parent of such an astonishingly brilliant and wonderful child.  But I do fret, and the flip side of loving someone this much is that it's easy to become overly concerned about their welfare.  As much as I love being a mother, I also find it absolutely terrifying at times.  So I find it heartening to hear about other parents who have a concern or two about child rearing.  It makes me feel less alone.

I recently read Nick Flynn's The Ticking Is the Bomb: A Memoir.  His concerns over parenting are much different than my own, but they're incredibly valid and timely.  In this memoir, he's brutally honest about his trepidation surrounding his impending fatherhood.  He's tortured by the idea of bringing a child into a world where events like those at Abu Ghraib can blithely take place.  I don't know how he does it, but he seamlessly weaves his fears of parenting together with the horrors of terror, and then manages to blend in his struggles with addiction and love relationships.  And it all makes sense, somehow.  It's a harrowing read, but absolutely masterfully conducted.  You should check it out.

On that note, if you haven't read his earlier memoir, Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, then you're in for a treat.  Maybe you should read this one first, so you can get a clearer picture of the mayhem that ensued within his family and shaped him into such an apprehensive father-to-be.  One can hardly blame him for having reservations.  I won't air all of his dirty family laundry here, but if you think your childhood was tough, Flynn just might have you beat.  It's just as sad and beautiful as his latest work.  I'm jealous of those of you who now get to go and read them for the first time.  I'm going back for seconds.