The Tree House

I’m currently working on my third full Happy Hypochondriac book. This one will focus on all the anxiety and joy around raising children. I thought I was a hypochondriac before? Psh. Children allowed me to take that “crisis” feeling up to level 10 in no time flat. I was recently outlining all the stories I could tell, and they just kept coming. And coming. Now my son is 19 and my daughter is 16, and you would think maybe some things would calm down and I could stop worrying so much. Again, I say psh. The stories continue to write themselves.

Case in point, my son is currently backpacking around Peru with a fellow college student. I love that he’s doing this and I applaud his sense of independence and adventure. It is what I always hoped my kids would pursue! But I’m not going to lie and say that I’m not worried 24/7 about his safety. I’m having to compartmentalize and kind of force myself to forget what he’s up to so that I can attempt to sleep at night. Then he breaks my peace with sweet texts and updates and comments like, “I’m staying this week in a tree house in an avocado tree.”

Listen, I love that he is keeping me clued in on some of the fun. But then he sends the picture you see here. Is this actually a tree house? Is he just staying on the side of the road? Is any of this structurally sound?

I texted back some love emojis to show my support, but then said, “What happens if it rains?” His quick reply was, “We stay dry.” Well, okay then. Guess I need to think nothing further about what I’m looking at there. It’s all under control. I see a random bucket. That should cover…something.

He has since moved on from the avocado tree, but I’m still concerned. If anyone has good ideas for sleep aids, let me know!