I have always been a bit of a worrier. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I've been cursed (like most mothers) with the gift of seeing the worst possible outcome of any given scenario. This natural tendency to envision catastrophe around every corner can often turn me into a . . . a . . . I don't want to say it . . . nag.
The truth is, if the kids were away at school I wouldn't know anything about their homework, research papers or tests. But since they're still sleeping in the beds they've occupied since they were three, I can't seem to help myself from becoming involved in their school deadlines, cleaning habits and romantic relationships. I know I pulled all-nighters at school, I know I dated a few questionable individuals, I know my bathroom used to resemble an outhouse. But there's a part of me that just keeps thinking I can save my kids from making these same mistakes. In addition to being a nag, I guess I'm also an idiot.
In many ways, I see great progress in both my kids. Now I just have to learn to trust in God as he helps them continue to move forward and learn from their mistakes. But I hope it's not long before I don't have to see them played out on a daily basis. Maybe then my inner nag will finally be able to shut her mouth.
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