Why I'm Not a Mom

I'm sort of freaking out right now.

Mom and Dad are on the east coast this week, visiting South Carolina and Georgia. They are in Georgia tonight, and as of yesterday, were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

I got a text from Dad this morning. It was a picture of a meal they had yesterday (a TON of food). I texted back, but wasn't surprised that I didn't hear back after that.

I got home at 4:00 (7:00 where they are) and called Dad's cell. I have continued calling his cell every 15-30 minutes for the last three hours, wondering where they are, if they're okay, or if Jekyll Island has sunk into the ocean. Nothing on Google News, so I figured they're out living it up while I'm working myself up into an anxiety attack.

I'm not being cute for blogging's sake. I could really feel one starting.

Finally, I got desperate enough to actually call the hotel. The kind lady (cute accent!) put me through to their room and Dad sleepily answered the phone. They're fast asleep while my overactive imagination is going into overdrive. Oy vey.

Turns out that Jekyll Island is out of all cell phone and Internet range, so they can't get a hold of me--and this also explains why Dad's cell has been going straight to voice mail all evening.

So, they're fine. And I still have issues with anxiety from time to time. I always will. It's just one more reason that I'm pretty sure motherhood will never be for me. I freak out when Mom and Dad don't call as scheduled (we talk every day). I freak out when my cat gets pancreatitis. Imagine how high-strung I'd be if I actually gave birth to a human child, bonded with it, and then set off on the rocky road of raising it? I'd be a mess.

I think I'm calm now.