Saturday, October 4, 2014

Worry, worry

The Ebola case in Dallas has been all over the news lately.  Especially here in Irving, just 20 minutes from the hospital where the poor soul is suffering.  I had a lot of trouble finding a charitable word for the man who introduced that disease into my area, the area where my children are.

 I used to be pretty nonchalant about the possibility of terrible things happening. I flew to Europ just months after the 9/11 attack. I thought Well, if I am going to die, I am going to die.  But that was before I gave three hostages to Fortune in the form of my three precious children.

 Ever since word of the Ebola case broke, I have been on edge.  Unable to focus, unable to sleep.  I spent the afternoon yesterday compulsively taking my children's temperatures.  And now I am sitting in Daniel and Anastasia's room watching them sleep and typing a panicked blog post at 1:30 in the morning because I feel like if I go to sleep, everything will fall apart.

I thought we won a victory today by going out and not being afraid. Amos had an errand to run in Dallas, picking up some books for his poetry give away, and instead of staying home while he went, we all got into the van and came along. (Did I mention our new van? It is very big and very red, and not at all inclined to overheat!)

We went to Wild Detectives to pick up the books, and then wandered through a neat little outdoor fair that was going on with hand made goods from local companies, and ended up going to dinner at Eno's, which was a great treat.

We came home, gave baths to grubby, happy children, put the baby to bed and then had a movie night with the older two.  Monsters, Inc. was a hit with Anastasia, but Daniel deemed it too intense and spent most of the movie calling from his room, "Anastasia, is this a scary part?"  He definitely liked the end credits, however, so I guess over all it was a win.  But now I am sitting here being crazy alone in the middle of the night.

It is moments like this that I feel responsible for Daniel's intense reactions to things, because I am the same way. I still get up for a drink at suspenseful moments in Doctor Who episodes, and over all, I see so much of myself in Daniel. It is both amazing and terrifying, seeing yourself made over in your child, knowing exactly how he is feeling-- the squirm of anxiety in his stomach when he has to speak to an adult he doesn't know, even just to say thank you or ask for a drink of water -- the overwhelming imagination that brings so vividly into presence the dangers depicted in books or movies, or in the news, that it is almost unbearable.

"Mama, why are you afraid so much?" he asked me today. I didn't have an answer for him.

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