I like to think of myself as a fairly introspective and self-aware person, and so when a few readers have commented along the lines of "stop worrying so much" I had to take a step back and ask myself, "Am I?" This certainly isn't the first time I've asked this question, but usually on matters Hayden-related the answer—if not from me, then from David—is a resounding, "No!"

With Cheerios, I had to balance the issues of health and safety. Ultimately, I felt safer sticking with Cheerios to eliminate potential choking risks, whether real or imagined. But normally, the only concerns that I need to weigh are health and time, or health and money. So David and I have been pretty neurotic, as the naysayers claim, about erring on the side of caution.

Take Hayden's nursery, for example. We were extremely fortunate to have the offer of a perfectly good, well-maintained crib from my sister that I was perfectly willing to accept. Cribs are mighty expensive, and that was a big-ticket item that I was grateful to save money on. But David, in a show one-upmanship with Research Girl, had been reading up on crib construction. And when he learned that most are made from medium-density fibreboard (MDF) [1], a very sturdy type of hardboard made from layers of wood fibre and glue, he became really concerned about any potential formaldehyde that could be released from the glue [2]. Nothing other than an $800 solid maple crib would be acceptable for his baby, he decided. I freaked. Not only was $800 a lot of money, but how was I going to explain to my sister that a crib that was good enough for her kids wasn't good enough for mine?

Never mind others, even I thought David was being paranoid to the point of unreasonable. I might even, in a heated moment, have accused him of "taking things too far." But he stood his ground—something he does so infrequently that I have to sit up and take notice when he does—insisting that there was a difference between being paranoid and well-informed. And that he was willing to make sacrifices elsewhere (i.e, no new digital camera, fewer dinners out) so that we could afford to pass up the free crib for the expensive one. The free crib, we agreed, would go to my father's house for occasional sleepovers there. This was a compromise that I could accept, but one that I could easily understand others choosing not to make. Compromise swings both ways, I guess.