No not you, you shouldn't worry about me, I was thinking today about how Quinn worries about everything, and how I hate it. But then I realize sometimes she worries about me -- and in really awesome endearing ways. Quinn worries about me sometimes in ways that Tim forgets to worry about me, and in ways my mom sometimes forgets to worry about me. I threw my back out tonight trying to put Charlie to bed. I've never done it before. It's scary for me. I don't know what I'll be able to do tomorrow, and I'm supposed to get on the airplane and fly away for a business trip that's already scary and stressful and way too far away from my children. I mumbled something about still needing to take the trash out. Quinn heard me and got out of bed me and put on her shoes and walk with me outside to help me drag the trash down to the curb. I didn't really end up needing her help. But she was there in case I got stuck. And that was a really nice feeling. Someone there, in case you get stuck. Personally I think having an eight-year-old daughter sucks hard-core a lot of the time. It's like a turf war all day. But then there are these moments where she sees me and I see her in really magical ways, and it's definitely better than being alone.
Jill Fellow
801.735.7416
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Aside from the miserable forehead wrinkles it produces, I've never found that worrying about someone else caused any harm.
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