But what really gets to me — usually at about 4 am when I really wish I was sleeping rather than freaking out — is what I can’t do. I can’t protect Lilly from all the bumps, bruises and cuts she is bound to get in her toddler years. I can’t prevent freak accidents like planes falling out of the sky and landing on my house. (Yes, I actually worry about that.) And, as much as I wish I could, I can’t keep stupid, unsafe drivers off the road. (I’m talking to you, douchebag who let an unsecured bookcase fly out of his pick-up in front of my car last week!) So what is a neurotic mom, like myself, to do?

Seriously. I’m asking. Because after a week like this one my nerves are shot.

It started off with a routine sick visit to the pediatrician. Lilly was runny a month ago, still coughing mostly at night. Her allergy medicine is not helping. I expected a new prescription for the latest and greatest allergy medicine. Instead, I’m hearing things like “pneumonia,” “foreign object” and “chest x-ray.” I’m sorry, what?!

Now before I get a panicked call from my mom: all the films looked good and it does appear to be allergies. But here’s what I’m getting at — have you ever seen your toddler in a hospital gown? It is quite possibly one of the most heart-breaking images you will encounter. Even if it’s a routine exam and everything checks out — as was the case here — it leaves you with haunting fodder for what-ifs. I don’t care how many Tweety-Birds you print on that gown, it’s depressing as hell. [Ahem, support St. Jude's Children's Hospital here.]

So with that behind us, we set out to have a better week. Wednesday afternoon Lilly was having a fantastic time practicing her running; beaming ear to ear shuffling along the driveway at a quick pace, chanting, “1, 2, 3 – baby running!” Then, on about her 30th pass, and probably at the precise instant the staff at the pediatrician’s office turned off the lights for the night, she went face first into the driveway. Blood everywhere. Tears streaming. And me, desperate to confirm that she still had all her teeth and no major injuries.

An ice pop, several showings of The Wiggles and 2 days of a fat lip later, I took Lilly to the zoo, only to have her trip on an elevated walkway. Generally, I consider this walkway safe, even for an untethered toddler, since the side rails are sturdy with a s0lid backing leaving only a couple inches of unshielded space at the bottom, much smaller than Lilly. I had not considered how much smaller Lilly is when horizontal. Judging by the gasps behind me, this occurred to the family following me right about the same time I grabbed Lilly’s leg to keep her from rolling any closer to the edge.

And as if that wasn’t enough action this week, we took Lilly to her first baseball game yesterday. The second we agreed to go, I began seeing images of a foul ball straying into our section and knocking Lilly in the head, but I forced these anxious thoughts from my head. I mean really, what are the odds? With half an inning left in the game, Lilly slipped and bumped her mouth on a picnic table, again drawing blood and tears, but no major injuries. Not ideal, but certainly not new territory. So, as we were walking away from a successful, calming session on the carousel, I was beginning to set aside my anxious concerns. I bent down to fix Lilly’s hat and BAM! — a homerun ball flies right above our heads, hits the carousel and falls about 10 feet away from us.

Ok, so maybe the take-away here is no (major) harm, no foul. Accidents are going to happen. But having had several hours to relive all these stressful little moments each night between 2 am and 5 am, and consider alternative outcomes, I really see only one realistic option that will get me through the next 18 years or so without a nervous breakdown. Which brings me to my final question: anyone know where to get a good toddler-sized bubble?

“We spend precious hours fearing the inevitable. It would be wise to use that time adoring our families, cherishing our friends, and living our lives.” ~ Maya Angelou

I don’t like to turn down an opportunity to make a resolution or two. Who couldn’t stand to improve themselves a little, right? Certainly not me. The question is always what changes do I want and do I think I CAN make in myself?

I decided after a year plus of all Lilly, all the time, my 2010 resolution should be a little bit about taking care of me. And if there is one thing that has been tossed to the wayside in the last 17 months, it’s my peace of mind. When Lilly was born, so was a little seedling of anxiety. That seedling grew a little bit with every ride in a car, every outing. What if something happens to Lilly? Or me? Would Lilly be alright? I’m not what you would call a mellow person, but this level of anxiety was a new experience for me. I accepted that fear comes with motherhood to some extent. It’s an inevitability when you put someone else’s life ahead of your own 100% of the time, but then realize that the security of that life depends also on the security of your own. Freaky, right!?

Then there are the tragic stories on the news every day. Children dying in tragic accidents, suddenly, with no warning. Events that can not be prevented, at least not by even the most attentive parents. It’s enough to paralyze a mother with fear. Suffice it to say, I now understand my mother’s irrepressible need to warn me about every possible danger from the unavoidable bumps and bruises of toddlerhood to highly unlikely parasitic infections from Floridian waters. It still drives me a little crazy, but I understand it.

So after news of a truly devastating Christmas morning fire in Louisville, which hit a little too close to home, and the many sleepless, anxiety-filled nights that have followed, I am resolving to find a little peace each day. 10 minutes. That’s all. Ten minutes of solitude each day to take time to breathe, to walk, to read, to meditate, to do anything that calms my nerves. Specifically banned from those ten minutes are technology (TV, computer, telephone, but not music) and multi-tasking. While banning anxiety may be more to the point, it’s not realistic. The idea is that eliminating the stresses of bad news, an overloaded to-do list and the pressure of dealing with those things, even for 10 minutes a day, will eventually help ease the anxiety. Time will tell.