My oldest son Erick says I worry too much. I say that’s part of being a mother. The day of the Capitol riotS, I woke early for my day job, staring into the pre-dawn darkness, and feeling like nothing but wanting to return to bed. After a good bit of coffee, my mood lifted by late morning.

A few days before, I had messaged my daughter, who lives and works in Washington, D.C., imploring her to leave D.C. before the Jan. 6 if she could. It didn’t matter to me if she and her boyfriend stayed at his family’s or came to us, I just had a bad feeling, and wanted her out of D.C.

I didn’t look at the news all afternoon, but had a text from my daughter in the late afternoon, letting me know that she and her boyfriend were safe in their apartment, and not near the problems at the Capitol. I didn’t learn about the depth of the problems at the Capitol until a bit later, and by then, I had something else to worry about.

My youngest son James was with his father and was supposed be brought home by early evening. His father is an ardent Trump supporter. I am not. It was also the day after I posted a Mama’s Musings column on Instagram and Facebook. The column does not mention my ex by name. Still, it was running through my mind that he might be offended. Especially when no “We are leaving now” text arrived. That’s his usual means of letting me know they are on their way.

I waited a good while, and then sent him a text. He did not respond. By then, I was worrying out loud. Finally, after another 20 minutes, Erick phoned him. He answered and seemed confused, saying he was 10 minutes away, and that he had texted me.

I spent the next several minutes taking deep even breaths, until he did text me that they had arrived. Not long after we got home, the earlier text finally came through. But of all the days….

Let’s just say my ex and I never agreed on politics. I am what you would call a moderate Democrat. There was nothing at all moderate about our relationship. And while we disagreed on politics, it was not nearly the biggest problem in our doomed marriage.

So I worry. Sometimes I worry a lot. Because it’s part of being a mother, and because I have more good reasons to worry.

Later that evening, Erick tried his hand at rolled cookies for the first time. In less than a minute, he was saying “MOM, I need an adult.” Keep in mind, Erick is an adult. While he is a great chocolatier, he is not so much a baker. Still, I think he may have been trying to make me feel better. Either way, with a little help, he produced very nice filled gingerbread cookies.

And I was happy, knowing my children were safe. It wasn’t lost on me that a woman was one of the five who died during the rioting. And that she had a mother, too. I hope and pray the political situation in our country rapidly improves, and calm and order are restored.

Please, even if you are an adult, try not to worry your mom. She loves you.