The Day I Realized I Am No Fun

In our area, we have a beautiful historic park with gardens, walking paths, a petting zoo and an array of wild animals (including bobcats, bear and a bald eagle). It is filled with educational opportunities about railroad history, nature and plant life. All ages enjoy it, but children especially love to see all the animals and climb all over the acres of nature.

As an unschooling mother, I like to take the children there as often as the weather and time will allow. I hope they will learn more and more each time we go. But the last time we visited this park, I learned a little something myself:

I am just no fun.

The children and my husband ran and climbed and played and laughed. My son crawled all over big rocks and hopped from stone to stone in a pond. My daughter giggled at the bears and rode on Daddy's shoulders.

I, however, noticed every possible thing that could go wrong. I worried my son would scrape his knees on the rocks or fall into the pond. I feared grass stains on my daughter's new pants. I was convinced a fence would come down and the bobcat would attack. What if my children were severely allergic to the plant life? What if a bully in the petting zoo ruined their experience? What if they got too close to the train tracks that held so much history while still running today (if you recall in the 25 things I'd like you to know about me, railroad tracks are one of my biggest fears).

This beautiful, educational, family-friendly park that is visited by thousands each season looked more to me like a hazardous construction zone.

That evening, talking to my husband, I was so concerned that I was just no fun. I was scared that my neurotic thoughts would interfere with my children's development and that I would wind up a hermit locked in my home out of paranoia.

My husband sweetly pointed out that I never interfered with their play or learning, I just panicked internally, smiling on the outside, and constantly alert to danger. The children had a blast, clueless of every fearful image that flashed through my mind.

It is not that I am no fun, it is that my brain has clearly clicked over to a mother's brain. Always alert, protective and caring.

The mother's mind is a gift. It keeps a healthy balance between safety and excitement. The way we function is clearly unique to our roles. We just have to remember that we are indeed fun...just a little cautious...and that is okay.