Master and Commander?

I am a control freak with no control. Sounds kind of like the opening line to a Sting song, doesn't it? Prior to having the little angel, I often succeeded in holding onto control over my life. I've had at least two jobs since 2000 and during that time managed to attend graduate school a few nights a week, get through the whole program, write my thesis and emerge on the other side. I planned my wedding on my terms (poor Ma). I had my own company. Everything was going along swimmingly.

Now, there are several things I can't control. I can't control how fast she grows, for instance. The little family is set to fly from KC to Portland, Oregon at the end of July for my cousin B's wedding. I am now concerned the little angel will have outgrown the carseat that is supposed to last until she is one by then. I had anticipated checking this carseat through on the plane, then using it in my parents' rental car, easy, peasy. Now I have been broadsided by the sneaking suspicion that at almost three months she is probably almost 16 pounds. What if she hits 20 next month? How am I going to check through a carseat the size of Montana and fit it in a compact rental?

My emotions, as we have already discussed, I can't control, especially when Barry Manilow is involved. (I will never listen to "Melissa" again, or at least not until the little angel is married.) I can't control her moods, either. I can't seem to make my cat stop projectile vomiting on the new rug whenever she feels attention-deprived. I can't control my husband's addiction to major league baseball, even though the Royals have started selling off players like they were so many nonworking lamps at a Friday-morning tag sale.

The result? My control-freak side is mourning the loss of perceived world domination. The side of me that always secretly suspected I did not have it, indeed, in the bag is jumping on the bed. There is a certain peacefulness in being dust in the wind and knowing it. I don't feel nearly so responsible for all the bad stuff that happens, but I'm still just as happy about the good stuff. Funny how that works.