It's October. October. Two years ago, we were on our way to the Czech Republic, and now in the past two months my baby has turned into a toddler -- a rather fearless one, to be specific. This child would bound right into the crashing waves if we let her.
Life is good. There are struggles and worries as there always are, I'd be lying if I said my Instagram feed accurately reflected all of life. There are tears and fears (and tears for fears?) -- I want to grab onto this time and bottle it up, but it slips through my fingers and I find myself trying to plan for the future in ways that are difficult.
I struggle with planning for the future we want, because there are so many futures we want, and they simply can't all happen (I guess unless we buy a summer farm in Maine and then live in RVA the rest of the year, ha). Big things, like where to live long-term (we have moved so much, and I long to buy a home again just to feel settled again, finally) and small things, like where to send her to school, except that's hardly small. I want to buy into our public school system and I know the only way more equal education will be achieved is by people not fleeing in droves, I want to be a good activist, I want to boldly march against the crowd, but I would be lying if I said my fear of school shootings didn't rear its head in my heart daily. Sometimes you just have to admit defeat when it comes to anxiety and I think my relentless fear and constant worry will drive me mad if I send her to the perfectly good public school in our current district. And then I think, god, what a bourgeois problem. The public school is perfectly good but my own fears for me daughter keep me from wanting to enroll her there.
But at what point do you decide the anxiety you'd experience as a parent is worth paying a lot to alleviate (if not entirely obliterate)?
Parenthood has been wonderful, but it sure does strike fear in the heart. I don't know how to fix that though, so I slog on through the crashing waves, trying to figure out what to do, knowing most decisions are imperfect. As we all do.