I yelled at my daughter today

It was one of those tense moments when you just lose your mind. Our 22-month old granddaughter had climbed up on the bench in the nook by herself. I was busy preparing a birthday dinner and kind of half realized that she was probably doing exactly that. When I asked Grandpa to check on her, he had barely made it around the counter before she took her nose dive.

Somehow, I flashed back on all the times the kids have made fun of me for being a worry-wart. And here was evidence that my anxieties were justified. Oh, and there are so many anxieties!

Every time someone goes down the basement stairs, it's a breath stopper for me (with memories of my own rolling trip down those same stairs a couple of weeks before child #4 was born). Edges of high places drive me crazy for myself (being just clumsy enough to imagine falling off for no reason at all), but especially for children (who don't realize the danger). Our family's last visit to the Luray Caverns terrified me at one point where there was a terrible drop and only a double-pipe handrail to keep people safe. And I've seen too many kids tumble off those kitchen benches in a split second to be comfortable when a little one is sitting on them.

To her credit, my daughter didn't respond in kind, though she could have. Her youngest sister came and explained why my behavior wasn't helpful (in the tone of voice she will probably use one day when my mind is gone for good).

But when I apologized for my outburst, my daughter said it was OK. (I don't think it was in "that" tone of voice!) She explained that her take on things is simply that those kinds of bumps are part of life and her daughter's going to be having her share of them. She doesn't want her to be afraid to explore and to try new things.

So where did THAT wisdom come from? Certainly not from her maternal genes. I am at least a second-generation fretter.

But she's probably right. Perhaps we parents try too hard to prevent all the hurts and wind up buffering too much. If we look back in our own lives, sometimes the lesson's not learned until there is enough pain that alternative choices become enticing.

Oh well, as I remind myself very often these days, we all probably do the best we understand to do and pray that our efforts will be good enough. Perhaps someday they will have been. In the meantime, we all keep learning and keep climbing.

And I promise to try to do better the next time there are bumps and tears.