Irrational Fears

So tomorrow is the big day.  It’s my trip to Vegas.  I leave tomorrow at noon.  My bags aren’t packed, the laundry isn’t done and my eyebrows are NOT waxed.  But, I’ve bought food for Courtney and stocked up on shaving cream for Paul, they should be all set for the weekend.  Actually, we’re low on bananas which, in this house, is similar to running out of air.  If there are no bananas for breakfast for Courtney, I’m not sure how the day would actually go.  Cataclysmic in nature.

I’ve flown countless time.  Countless times by myself.  I’m not really worried about the flying but about leaving my baby without her mom.  Here Paul is thinking that I’m dissing on his parenting skills but that has nothing to do with it.  (Paul is an excellent dad, I’m the first to shout it from the rooftops.)  But what if something happens to me and I don’t come home.  I know, so morbid.

We have a friend who’s ex-wife developed this irrational fear of flying after her kids were born.  She wouldn’t step foot on a plane.  I kind of get that.  I mean, I’m going to Vegas, don’t get me wrong but I get a bit of the fear.

First of all, I’m only gone for 2 days.  Barely.  I mean, I’m leaving Sunday morning practically before the sun comes up and will be home on Sunday early enough so I can spend some time with Courtney.  And we only live 2 miles from the grocery store so needing to buy 600 bananas is probably unnecessary. There’s a life time supply of pasta though, Courtney does love her carbs, so in the event of a banana shortage, she can have ziti for breakfast.

And what about clothes?  Paul’s not always good about getting Courtney dressed.  There are outfits that match in her drawer but the matching tops aren’t folded with the matching bottoms.  Not that she needs to match (because she doesn’t on most days, I’m not so good with that skill) but it’s possible to find matching clothes out of what’s in her room.  And, in the event that she should grow 6 inches on Friday night, there are 12 month clothes in her closet and even bigger clothes in the closet in the guest room.  I’m pretty sure Paul would wash new clothes before he puts her in them, he would do that with his own clothes. Irrational.

And I did my will yesterday.  Again, another drastic measure but something we needed to do anyway.  So, that’s done.

I’m going to be fine.  I’m going to go to Vegas and have a great time.  And then I’m going to get home, just fine, no problem.  I hate that I worry about these things.  I asked Paul last night what he needed for the weekend, I just want to make sure my family is taken care of.  I don’t want to have to worry, which I will.  But, I’m going to have a good time and when I get home, everything is going to be just fine.  Just.  Fine.