Nathan headed off to church, and I began to gird my (and Neeps's) respective loins for a very cold walk around the neighborhood. This involved wool socks, careful layering, and a surge of gratitude for my brother who had given me a neck gaiter several years back. Never has it been more appreciated, since having a baby nestled against my chest more or less rules out any of my long and lovely scarves.
I had a surge of trepidation before starting out, however- was I being an irresponsible mother, by taking my child- my infant- out in the snow when it wasn't absolutely necessary? What if I slipped and fell? What if he suffocated beneath all those layers? What if he caught pneumonia and died? What if, what if?
And then I realized, it wasn't really me having those fears (well, maybe the slip-and-fall one, a little: I am notoriously clumsy)- I was hearing other people in my head. My fear was not that I'd do him harm, but that I'd suffer the dreaded Judgmental People Judging Me.
And then I realized that I don't actually give a fuck. Because you know what? I'm not an idiot, and I'm not taking unnecessary risks with my son. He was dressed appropriately, and I refuse to start his life out by setting an example of fearfulness. So I put up my hood and got on with it.
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| Right before the afore-mentioned hood-raising |
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