I'm not paranoid, I'm just a mother

Daughters are in Israel. That’s on the other side of the world. Can’t reach them, can’t get past Shalom to the hotel operator at the King Solomon Hotel. They have three cell phones, no answer for almost 24 hours. 

Before they left I asked one thing: keep in touch and don’t let me get crazy. One phone call or text a day would equal my not having to behave like a certified nut ball. When I reach them, finally, I get yelled at. “Mom, you’re so paranoid, we’re just fine. We didn’t have one free second to call you”. 
Hmmmm, let’s see. Paranoid. Well, this morning when I woke up I took my usual pills. I didn’t think that they were tainted with cyanide, I just took them. I came downstairs and made my breakfast. I had eggs. I wasn’t afraid that they were spoiled and I would die from food poisoning.
After that I went to my computer. I didn’t check the camera or fear what I typed. I wasn’t afraid I was being watched or recorded. I wasn’t afraid that someone would hack into my computer and steal my identity. I heard a noise every now and again and didn’t convince myself that someone else was in the house and ready to kill me. 
I went out to my car to run some errands. I wasn’t worried that someone planted a bomb in my car that would explode when I turned on the ignition. So I bet you see where I am going with this. These thoughts would leave people to believing that I am a paranoid freak. (The fact that I thought of all these things scares the crap out of me ). 
But these have not been what I’m thinking about. I’ve been worried that my klutzy older daughter will trip and fall during one of the many hikes they will be doing. I worry about that fact that while in Israel there will be some episode of violence as is pretty darned common in those there parts. 
I worry that there will be some crazy weather freak of nature event while they are there. I worry about all the things that mother’s worry about, no matter how old my kids are. What they don’t get and I keep reminding them is that they will NEVER know what it feels like to be a parent until they are one. 
So I only have 8 more days until they come home and now they tell me they want to stay an extra 4. That’s 4 extra days of worry, stress and gray hairs. The only option I have is a good prescription for Xanax. God help me. 

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