Fence Me In

A mild but pesky anxiety disorder has been averted for the time being, thanks to this fence. It ain't fancy, and it ain't permanent, but it's mine.



We have a beautiful yard, really. Almost an acre of grass (the lush factor is dependent on the rain and when hubby has last mowed it) and a few fun hillish spots for Sam to run down at full throttle. Often I am with the babies one at a time, depending on nap schedules. The truth is that my trips outside with the both of them, pre-fence, have been terrifying.



I'm a worrywart. I know this. You know this. It's not going to change, really, yet it will ebb and flow with intensity over time. I will be less anxious when they 'know better' but I will always know that they won't really 'know better' until they are my age, and I know that I don't even know what I don't know. Are you with me?



All that said, there have been a few scary moments while I've double-babied it outside for playtime. Like, the baby wants to put pieces of broken glass in her mouth (thank you, previous owners, for shooting bottles in your backyard....saaaweeeet! May I suggest Arkansas?) while the toddler runs for the road. Yeah, like the main road we live on. The one with the traffic and the speeding teenagers who are texting and scrolling their ipod for a new playlist and drinking an iced coffee all at the same time. And let's not forget the 18 wheelers who use my road to avoid the highway. Anyway, you get the picture. I've had to sprint (really, sprint! like volleyball all over again but without the taut thighs and pimpled chin) to get her. It was too much.



I made the plea a few weeks ago to my husband for something makeshifty. Not the real deal, that's major bucks we don't have right now. But something, anything really, to fence my babies in. Let's play without Mom needing a prescription. Let's play without Mom picturing horrible things in the middle of the night. Let's play with a Mom who is chillaxed. It wasn't a hard sell, as he bears witness often to my ebbing and flowing, and I didn't really have to sell him anyway. Within two weeks, it was finished, thanks to Papi and Dad and an afternoon of low humidity and a promise of Cornhole.