MANDY FLYNN: Not caring about caring

My children think I hover and worry too much. Their father has been known to concur. They talk about me behind my back and roll their eyes when I tell them things like they need to quit eating certain mandarin oranges because they’re grown with contaminated oil wastewater, and that I heard that something found in cat poo can make people go mad.

“So stay away from cat poo,” I say, only I whisper the word poo for reasons I don’t even know. Never mind we don’t have and never have had a cat. We have, however, eaten mandarin oranges for quite some time and I even purchased a big bag of them for our son to take back to school last time he was home which, upon learning of the contaminated water issue, caused me to be immediately plagued with mother guilt for trying to kill my son with mandarin oranges.

“At least she doesn’t send you coupons for a fabric store,” his sister told him. What? They don’t just have fabric. They have other things, too.

Growing weary of their lack of appreciation for my looking out for their well-being, I decided to stop. Cold turkey. Let them see how much they miss my concern. Only, I found out quickly that not worrying so much about my family only transferred to something else and for nearly an entire week my thoughts were affixed on this … thing. These … things. Would they make it there okay?

“I will be so glad when that equipment makes it to P&G,” I admitted to my husband the other morning as we lay in bed watching the morning news. I could feel his eyes on me in one of those what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about ways, but I refused to look at him until he burst out laughing like surely I was kidding.

“No, really. It’s been bothering me all week,” I told him. “Wondering … where are they now? Tifton? Are they okay? I hope they get home before the bad weather sets in.” I was, quite frankly, obsessed. Obsessed with two pieces of ginormous equipment traveling in convoy from Brunswick to the Procter & Gamble plant here. So ginormous, mind you, that they had to have special permission from the Georgia Department of Transportation to make the trip. One hundred-fifty thousand pounds, 83 feet long, 20 feet high, and over 20 feet wide ginormous. They took up two lanes of the road and couldn’t even go under most power lines, they were so ginormous, and had to travel with their own special people to lift lines out of the way as they passed.

I blame the media for my madness, giving us play-by-play of their every move. I found myself checking the news sporadically throughout the day to find out where they were, what they were doing. Did I even know the purpose of these mammoth things? No, I did not. But I cared about their well-being. Deeply.

And there were others out there like me, I know for a fact. These big boys were more popular than Donald Trump and would have much better hair, if they had hair. In fact, for a while I was even able to block out all of the horrible presidential campaign rhetoric and hysteria. Bernie Sanders prevailed in Alaska, Hawaii, and Washington state? Well, maybe if Hillary had invited the P&G machinery on the campaign trail with her, she would have gotten more votes. Ted Cruz had an affair? To my knowledge, my P&G equipment has never met him. College basketball? Okay, so I did care about that. I’m leading our bracket.

“Thank God the P&G equipment made it okay. They’re fine. They missed the bad weather. I am so relieved,” I said upon learning the news.

My husband gave me another look, but I refused to look at him until he said, “You really have lost your mind, haven’t you?”

No. I’m just a woman who cares. Maybe a little too much. So much it might be considered weird. But, unlike my children, I am sure the P&G equipment would be appreciative. At least I don’t have to worry it about oranges and cat poo or fabric store coupons.

Then again … the fabric store … they have other things, too.

Visit lifestyles columnist Mandy Flynn’s website, www.mandyflynn.com.