tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12807301.post111732523957211323..comments2024-02-22T01:26:02.039-08:00Comments on Nikwalk: CrisesNikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15795554401570611521noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12807301.post-1117411578205741962005-05-29T17:06:00.000-07:002005-05-29T17:06:00.000-07:00Dr Lynn is right. Worry is compounded by child exp...Dr Lynn is right. Worry is compounded by child exponentially. But as you imply, having a sense of humor is the only chance one has of buying a perspective. Perhaps worry is as good as playing crosswords and riddles to staves off alzheimer's. Thinking of all the myriad possibilities of the diseases, car wrecks, bad choices you yourself can make is mind-stretching in itself. Doing it for your kids must make you a genius. Plus, you have to put off all that writing worry in order to spend time worrying about your kid. Which must bode well for the writing if not the anxiety of the kid.<BR/>Thanks Dr. Lynn for the perspective.Nikhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15795554401570611521noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12807301.post-1117389528202947742005-05-29T10:58:00.000-07:002005-05-29T10:58:00.000-07:00Yikes! Car jacked! I hope her insurance covers eve...Yikes! Car jacked! I hope her insurance covers everything. (hope: am I an optimist?) <BR/>I think having a child is getting REALLY in touch with worry. Right now, for example, Son is at the park with a friend and his mom. I'm sure he's fine. But part of my mind is occupied with a little scenario that goes: while his friend is getting attention because he fell off the swing, Son runs over to the slide, creepy man off to side sees him....etc, etc. This (almost) never happens.<BR/>After Son was born I couldn't watch the news for about a year. Too many stories about kids that aren't happy.<BR/>The good news is, the longer Son survives the less anxious I become. After all, MiddleBrow and I made it to adulthood. Some scars (like MB's rock throwing gash) but alive. And just think, I have fourteen more years to worry and fret before I send him off to college. And then I can worry and fret from a distant.<BR/>I think I'm a hopeful pessimist. I pretty much know things will turn out crappy (for example, my short story collection didn't win and contests and will remain, for now, unpublished). But then I keep entering contests, applying for grants (what are my odds for the NEA? about one in one million? I should buy a lottery ticket!), letting my son play with friends. You know, wacky stuff.<BR/>The good news is, when I'm not worrying about Son I'm letting him entertain me. Yesterday morning he came downstairs (I was watching the French Open) with a plate and half a cucumber. Why? He was hungry. God Bless the cucumber. So with the worry comes infinite joy. Let's just hope there's no more breaking news anytime soon. Here's to the slow news week.Dr. Writehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04780082464342367471noreply@blogger.com