You Never Stop Worrying

My youngest daughter Michaela is heading off to London on Friday for a 'girls weekend'. She's staying with a friend tonight so I caught her before she left for work this morning.

'Now, darling - you look after yourself down there. Take extra care - there are a lot of dodgy people in the world today'

Her reply was typical for someone who has already achieved a lot in life for being aged just 19. 'For God's sake, Dad - I'm not a kid any more'

And don't I know it...

But that's the responsibility of being a parent, as Michaela herself may know a few years from now. You never stop worrying about your children.

My mother is 72, God bless her, and she still frets about me making a 20 minute bus journey from her house - 40 minutes when hapless Midlothian Council spring up hundreds of temporary traffic lights in Dalkeith for no apparent reason. I tell her that, now I've reached the age of 47, have two grown-up children and two toddling grandchildren, that I'm reasonably capable of crossing the road unaided. Although, admittedly, this can be dependant on whether I head for a pint on the way home...

My other daughter, Laura, also causes me no end of concern. Are you coping with the brats - sorry, loveable kiddies - are you managing to pay the bills, are you eating properly, are you sleeping okay...?? Questions which are usually treated with contempt by my tempestuous 22 year old.

As parents we are supposed to prepare our children for life. As parents it is also hard to accept that our way is not the only way.We just have to love our children and grandchildren, warts and all. You love them and are always concerned about them -but it's part of caring.

So while I hope Michaela has a wonderful weekend in the old smoke - and I'm sure she will - there's a little part of me that will be delighted to see her back in Auld Reekie safe and sound on Sunday night. Okay - a big part of me.

Families, eh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em....