Tonight is Sunday night. Every Sunday night, for the last several months, my two sisters and I chat on-line at precisely 8pm. We talk about everything from our post menopausal drama to our next sister’s vacation. Tonight was no exception. Once we got through the weekly wrap-up of jobs, husbands, children and grandchildren one of us mentioned the word worry.

I always thought at some point in my life I would stop worrying. I hate to worry. It makes lines in my face. It keeps me awake. It invades my happy place. It makes me crave chocolate. I think it is even responsible for my last speeding ticket. I am positive I was worrying about something or I would never have been speeding through that school zone which was clearly NOT marked well enough.

To be honest, I don’t spend every day worrying about every little thing. There are actually long stretches of time when I go about my business happy, line free and no chocolate stash in sight. But I find that the slow simmer of worry is always way back there waiting to bubble up and cause me to lose sleep or scrounge around the back of the freezer for that stray Hershey Kiss I know must be there somewhere.

When my children were young I often thought I would finally be somewhat worry free when they all grew up and left home to live their own lives. How foolish. Little did I know that out of sight did not mean out of mind. It was hard enough when they were all living at home and I lived in a state of semi-panic about missing curfews, driving, illness and a host of real and imagined catastrophes. Now that they all have their own homes and families my worries are different.

Tonight, we were chatting about my nephew. He has just graduated from college. My sister has gone from worrying about grades and tuition and college pranks to future employment and possibly moving far away. She asked if she would ever stop worrying about her boy/man /son. My younger sister and I gave her the universal computer guffaw….LOL…. but it also started me thinking of my own slow simmer of worries.

All three of us have children in different stages. Some are single, living life on their own, seldom checking in with us. Others are married with teens and tweens, toddlers and infants. One is expecting her first child. Between us there is lots of talk about Botox to combat the dreaded forehead lines (no, not for us), diets to combat the chocolate calories (except one who is diabetic), speeding tickets (only one of us has to deal with that) and other useful ways to ward off the evils of worrying. I voted for wine but got shot down because of the sugar and calories so I will experiment with that one all by myself and provide my sisters with the results.

In the end, we decided that our Sunday night chats were the most helpful but we are still planning on a sister’s vacation as back up. We will still worry but trust that we have all done the best we could and to let our children and grandchildren live their lives try not to worry ourselves into early old age. But they can phone us whenever they want and come home whenever they choose. The pot is always on slow simmer but I hope I am filling it with good food, happy memories and grand adventures with my husband instead of worries that I can do nothing about.

My mother gave me great advice one night when I was awake worrying instead of sleeping. She said if I could get up and do something about the problem at that precise moment, getup and do it. If not, lay down and go to sleep. It will still be there when I wake up and I would be better equipped to deal with it after a good night’s sleep. She was very smart. I reminded my sisters of her advice. Then I had a nice glass of wine before I went to bed.

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