I’m afraid of the dark. I think I always have been. I seriously didn’t go upstairs in our house at night (even with the lights on) until late middle school. LAME!

I’m afraid of bees – not allergic – just crazy afraid. When we were getting off the bus one day – Samm came up behind me and said – look Danielle – a bee! I had just gotten the mail – and SCREAMED! I threw the mail all over the driveway – tossed my backpack in the yard – and may have taken off some clothes in an effort to get the bee away from me. Samm came in the house later – crying from laughing so hard. She had a cotton ball bee in her hand she had made in art class. LOVELY! She loves to tell that story!

I’m afraid of flying – I hate it. When I’m not drugged – I am not a joy to fly with. When we get in the air I start asking questions. Why are we in the air. Why aren’t we falling. How high are we. How much does this thing weigh. What was that bump. How on EARTH are we just flying through the sky in this GIANT plane! AHHHH!

I’ve experienced a new irrational fear since becoming a mom. Well – kind of new. Take some guesses – letting other people drive the car with him in it – sleeping on his belly – leaving him overnight. Nope. None of those.

My irrational fear is letting him eat food. Let me explain a little.

When I was in high school – I went through a period where I couldn’t swallow. Or so I thought. For about 4 months I think – I ate pecan swirls all mushed up – applesauce – yogurt – anything that wouldn’t get stuck in my throat. Crazy right! It’s the way my anxiety comes out. My mom took me to the doctor and there was a real name for it – but it is a psychological thing – in your head. Get over it or your life will SUCK – is what he told me. So my mom had to work with me on learning to chew and swallow and not panic about dying and choking. I don’t know if I’ve written about my OCD and told you the details – a blog post for another time perhaps! But it was really really bad in high school. I measured the distance between my hangers in my closet. I recopied my notes until they were absolutely perfect. Everything on my dresser was at 90 degree angles – Samm would rotate them just to tick me off. It was bad – and how my anxiety shows its head – along with TMJ – and we all know how much that ruined my life for a period – and still does from time to time. So – I KNOW that I HAVE to get over this crazy fear. Or else it will run and ruin my life and Jared’s and Fitzy’s – but it is a legitimate (stirred up the past) fear.

I can deal with the mushy stuff so he doesn’t have chunks to go down his throat. But letting him chew on a bagel or piece of bread – even those puffs. I break them in half. Seriously. I just lied. I break them in thirds. I KNOW – WHAT!! I just gave him a mum mum rice thing the other day and let him eat the whole thing by himself – mostly while having a panic attack. My mom gave him little pieces of food while we were there a few weeks ago. But I couldn’t be in the room. At this rate the poor kid is gonna be drinking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in kindergarten! Johna and I had lunch a while ago and she said – you weirdo – little *M* was chewing on frozen bagels at his age. Ronda gave him bites of a bagel and hamburg bun and I was twitching! I’m just gonna have to drop him off at my moms for the weekend and have her introduce food. And then have her come over every time he needs to eat. Ugh!

Last night we went to our friends house – they have a one year old little guy. Belinda gave Fitzy a whole puff. He was a champ – of course. Little yogurt bites – fine. We watched her little guy at dinner and there were times when he had a rough moment or a bite a little too big – but he figures it out. So I’m making little baby steps.

So seriously – pray for me. I keep my OCD in check – but it’s hard. My desk is arranged a certain way and things are in a certain place and you don’t touch it. It’s the one area that I haven’t given up – because I’ve given up the rest of the house – so I don’t drive Jared crazy (poor guy before we had a baby) and raise Fitzy in a home where he is NEVER allowed to have toys out or be dirty or just feel that he has to be perfect. That feeling of perfection is something Jared and I both put on ourselves when we were younger – which is where most of my OCD perfection is from. And I don’t want my child to EVER feel that way!

What’s your irrational fear?