When I was at Girl Scout camp one of the activities on the first night was that we were supposed to stand on a picnic table and free fall backwards and let our cabin-mates catch us.

I went last.  And I bent.

Know what I mean?

I bent at the waist — so some unfortunate girl got the brunt of my bony bottom.

When I was in high school, a boyfriend asked me to do that same thing — fall backward and let him catch me.

I didn’t want to.

He argued with me and said it was the true trust test.

In the middle of the argument, I said, “Okay, fine, here I go.”

And I fell flat onto the grass.

So what I’m saying is — that game sucks.

And also, trusting people with my own self is hard.

Trusting people with Tom is near impossible.

Tom isn’t falling backwards off of picnic tables — but only because I am watching him like a hawk.

And I don’t know if it’s that he’s at an age where he seems to be seeking out choke hazards, or if it’s that I’m staying home with him full-time right now — but all of a sudden it’s gotten harder for me to trust him with others.

And by “others” I mean Kevin.

Now, I trust Kevin with my life.  I trust Kevin with Tom’s life.

He is an awesome husband and father.

So when I say I don’t trust Kevin with Tom — I don’t mean it as harsh as it sounds.

I mean, I don’t trust Kevin will feed Tom yogurt as a snack.

I’m not sure Kevin knows that wet diapers also need to be changed.

Last week I worked at the television station in the early mornings, but was home by 9:30 a.m. to be with Tom for the day.  Tom usually wakes up between 6 and 7, so I had to give Kev instructions on how Tom and I do our mornings.

And what I discovered was that…

1.  I had a hard time handing over those mornings.

2.  Even with the instructions, those mornings went nothing like our normal mornings.

After Monday morning, I added more instructions.

After Tuesday, I wrote things down.

After Wednesday, I mentioned just one more tiny little instruction.

And by Thursday I realized I was nuts.

And I stopped the insanity.

Tom was fine.  He was alive.  He has a dad who loves him very, very much.

He also has a dad who is willing to put up with his nut of a mom.

And I don’t know what finally snapped me out of it — but I finally realized that Kev can do things his own way and it will be fine.

Tom won’t be scarred for life if Kev gives him formula instead of oatmeal for a few mornings. Or if Kevin puts Tom down for a nap, but doesn’t turn on the humidifier.

And I have no idea why it took me three days to realize that, but it did.

I do think Kev would catch me.

I know he would catch Tom.