Quietly Driving Myself Nuts

There's a relentlessness to being a single parent. Have you ever braced yourself against a cold wind that wouldn't stop? It's like that. I like that analogy because it's a fancy way of saying there's a difference between responsibility and sole responsibility.

I can't help thinking that my son's ear infection the week after The Doctor departed was my fault, somehow. Did I let him swim in the tub? Did his sister do something while I wasn't looking? Are his toys clean enough? Did I wash behind his ears? Should I buy an otoscope so I can check them myself? How much do those things cost anyway? (I checked - between $100 and $150, possibly less, but I don't know what to look for in a good otoscope.) I know there was something I should have done differently, I'm certain of it.

His ear is mostly fine now. There's some fluid left in one ear, but it's not bothering him. The fluid will probably drain.

My daughter had a tantrum on the way home from day care this week. Was it something I did? Probably. I can't give in to a tantrum, right? I have to wait it out, while all the other parents and children are looking at me. I can feel the weight of their pity. I can also hear them thinking that my daughter's mother wouldn't have let this happen.

Is this a change in behavior I should worry about? Do I need to make a counselor's appointment? Is this an example of "acting out" - misplaced frustration from my daughter missing her mother? Will this scar her for life? Am I solely responsible for this sudden irreparable damage to my daughter's psyche? Will she not be able to maintain adult relationships because of this tantrum? Am I possibly overreacting?

Are the kids getting enough liquid? Too much? Too much salt? Not enough? Is that a new mole? (Not on the kids, on me.) What the hell am I making for dinner tonight, anyway? Was my daughter using words when she was my son's current age? Should I be worried if he isn't? What do the books say? Do I have time to look it up right now? No - my son is eating a rock. How did he find a rock inside the house? Why would he eat a rock in the first place? How strong a "no" should I give him? Doesn't matter, he laughs at the word "no" anyway. How do I fix that? Now my daughter is chiming in, telling her brother "no" for me. Is that good? When is bedtime? Are they sleeping enough? Too much?

Did I remember to tell my daughter to put on underwear as she got dressed for school today?

Like a constant wind that one braces against; the internal monologue of a single parent.