Before kids, I never would have considered myself a germaphobe. Funny how that all changes when the little people you gave life to insist on touching and putting their mouths on the most disgusting objects known to everyone who knows better. With so much time, energy, and money spent on doctor’s visits and recovering from illness, not to mention how lousy it is to be sick, I admit, I sometimes get hung up on the fear of falling ill.
For some reason, anxiety manifests itself in this particular area for me. When I get stressed, I tend to cozy up to the definition of a hypochondriac.
Here is a sampling of my crazy:
- The first thing I do when I get home is wash my hands.
- The diaper bag never goes on the counter or the table.
- Water bottles expire to be washed after one day of use.
- When packing for a trip, the suitcase and shoes stay on the floor. (All those gorgeous IG shots of bags and shoes neatly layed out on beds make me itch.)
- I wipe out the inside of laundry baskets.
- All I want to do is wash my hair after leaning back in a chair with a headrest like on a plane or in a movie theater.
- I run the kids bath toys through the dishwasher.
- My steering wheel knows the cool feeling of a Clorox wipe.
- I take my own pen to sign in at the doctor’s office.
- If I am forced to cook raw chicken, it will take me an hour to clean up.
The logical side of me knows this is ridiculous and tries to keep a reign on reality. We do what we can but kids get sick. Adults get sick. Life goes on. When the crazy starts to set in, and I notice my hands are raw from washing them too much, I like to repeat to myself, “You are healthy and strong.” So then, I’m not just the crazy mom who pulls her kids from school when there is a noro virus outbreak. I’m the crazy mom who talks to herself.