Love Rollercoaster

My husband is a big Red Hot Chili Peppers fan.  I’ve had their song Love Rollercoaster stuck in my head all day.  I used to enjoy this little diddy, but right now, not so much.  The lyrics are inane and very repetitive.  The title, however, is more insightful.  Love is indeed a roller coaster.
No matter what or who you love, the relationship will have its ups and downs.  I often think each day with my little ones has more peaks and valleys than the Great American Scream Machine (which ironically is a nickname I have for the big girl these days).  Their behavior, which fluctuates from sweet as pie to the Devil Wears Prada Diapers is normal, but as my husband says, I’m the Mom and I have to be even keel.  I don’t think even keel has ever really been my strong suit.
My anxiety is at an all time high these days.  I’d say that I’m not a person who likes drama, but sometimes I can be a bit dramatic.  The engineer in me likes order, schedules and routines.  I get stressed out if life strays from that.  But then again, the artistic side likes to explore new places, try new things, and experience new cultures.  I can’t imagine a life without the extraordinary every now and again.
Therein lies my greatest parenting challenge.  How do I let go enough so that my girls can experience life, but not enough so that they get hurt?  I know that I can’t protect them from everything, but I drive myself (and everyone around me) crazy while I’m hovering over them trying to control them and their surroundings as much as possible.  Will there be a point that I am comfortable enough with their own decision making that I believe they won’t actively or unknowingly face extreme danger?
The big girl doesn’t want to listen to me lately.  She’s about to turn 4 (going on 14) and wants to exert her independence as much as possible.  Our floors were wet after being cleaned last week and I told her  to be careful, but of course, she ran right over the wet area and fell flat on her back.  Not two hours later, she sat on the edge of a table, slipped and landed her tailbone right on a concrete pool deck.  Could I really have stopped that?  When she’s in high school, will she stop herself from getting in the car with the cute guy she knows is a horrible driver, but would be kind of an awesome hook up?
I’m putting a lot of pressure on myself now to try to teach them good decision making skills, but is my helicopter parenting just going to make them want to listen to me less and rebel against all the wisdom I’m trying to impart?  Will they just want to do the opposite of everything I’m telling them because I’m too domineering?  My desires to protect them could hurt more than help.
The unknowns of what they could face scare the crap out of me.  I could spiral completely out of control with this (including, but not limited to all of the BRCA shit they could face).  I want them to tackle the world and find their passions, but at what cost?  What will their roller coaster rides entail?  Will they be able to withstand the troughs so that they can feel the highs of the valleys?  Will I be able to sit back and let them as my best wishes for them supersede my anxieties?  I hope so.  If not, I’m pretty sure they make something for that.

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