No Really, My Eye Always Twitches Like That When I'm Having Fun

Well, another holiday ended yesterday with me tired, stressed, and sporting a zit so big on my forehead that if it grows even one iota larger I shall be forced to change my name to Zaphod. Charming. I don't know why I fall for this every time. I get all excited about some coming holiday, completely forgetting that it is no longer for me. Not that I begrudge my kids taking pleasure from the festivities. It's just that my nature right now dictates that at no moment may I relax, lest something horrific should occur.

I'm not sure exactly where this comes from. It's most likely a result of the fact that up until my kids were born, my definition of responsibility was making sure rent money rated above beer money. Even given that definition, I wasn't what you would call responsible.

Sadly, I've gone the other way now. I seem to spend holiday festivities completely stressed out. The kids are having fun coloring eggs, and I'm frantically trying to make sure nothing gets stained, broken, cut, smashed, thrown or some combination therein. I do my best to put on my happy face, and I'm pretty sure I'm convincing, but internally I know that any lack of vigilance on my part will mean a ruined couch or a trip to the emergency room (I'm not sure how many lives Paas has claimed, but realistically it's probably a low number).

The problem is that it's so easy to go the other way. Take visiting my in-laws. I used to just sit down and relax, confidant that somewhere someone was keeping my spawn safe from harm. Then I realized that if everyone does that, the children will be left to their own devices, which in my head always leads to a bloody end (to this day I don't know if my extensive horror movie studies have left me better or worse prepared for parenthood, although I can say for certain they left me better prepared for diaper changing duty). Now, I bounce from room to room making sure doors are closed, knives are pushed back on counters, and tracking the whereabouts of my two offspring. Add on that my habit of mentally adding each kid of a certain age or below into my checklist, feeling responsible to keep an eye of each of them, and you can see where I want a drink when I complete the hour-and-a-half drive home.

I'm sure as my kids get bigger, I'll learn to let this go. Already the Princess is old enough and smart enough to take care of herself to some extent, so when she wanders off, I can at least be confidant that she won't maim herself or another person, which is always nice. I just need to keep them both alive long enough to teach them the many ways that every single object in a house can, if improperly used, lead to a terrible and painful death, either directly or as punishment.

Okay, I can probably put it in a nicer way than that, but you get the general idea.