There, I've said it. I am a control freak.

We were having a nice dinner for my 74th birthday. I was surrounded by family. The food was good and everyone was in a happy mood.Then, my grandson and my husband started talking about a football player who escaped being charged with a crime. They had opposing views of the situation. I gently kicked my husband's shin under the table. It was supposed to be a simple signal to change conversation topics.Instead, my husband said aloud, "Your grandmother wants us to change the subject." And, with that, the whole atmosphere changed. Once again, I was being a control freak.To tell the truth, I think I have been a control freak my entire life. I learned from a master my mom. She could control an entire room with just a look. I'm not that accomplished yet. I still need to do the "kick under the table" routine.What is the evidence of my freakdom? Here are a few examples.I am a lousy plane passenger. When I enter the plane, I realize that I am giving up all control. It makes me crazy. From the time we take off until we are safely landed, I am tormented. Perhaps if I would be able to sit next to the pilot and give him directions, I'd be a better flyer.I must do certain things every morning such as make the bed, wash the breakfast dishes, and open all the blinds. If I don't do those things in order right away, they nag at me until I do.One of my other bad control habits? I correct people's grammar incessantly. My family can laugh about it most of the time, but they still can bristle when I stop them and ask "What?" Then they think for a minute and then correct themselves.At my birthday dinner, our granddaughter Kiele said, "Me and my girlfriends want to go on a senior trip somewhere." I said, "What?" and she answered with a smile, "I and my girlfriends want to go on a senior trip somewhere." I said again, "What?" and she thought for a minute and then said, "My girlfriends and I …" Then we both relaxed. My husband and my daughter just shook their heads.When we are driving somewhere and my extremely patient husband is behind the wheel, I have a bad habit of pointing when we are going to make a turn. Even though I know that Jim knows the way, I feel obligated to assist him.Our daughter Jennifer got married and we had the wedding reception in our home. I knew that some family members and friends wanted to help. They would get back to the house before I would after the church service and they would get the food out for incoming guests. In preparation for that, I put out the empty dishes I thought they should use and I put little signs on each plate "ham," "turkey," "deviled eggs," and so on.When I arrived back at the house, my helpers were all laughing. They said, "The control freak at work again!" I guess my idea of helping them was indeed another example of my inability to relinquish control.Jim usually tells me, "Relax, dear." Or he says, "Take a deep breath and sit down." When I hear those words, I know I am treading on thin ice. I had better take his advice.Perhaps some of my controlling attitude comes from the years I spent as an English teacher, a school principal and as the director of plays at the Mauch Chunk Opera House. When you have large responsibilities, you can become quite nervous about the burdens. You can turn into a dictator, trying to manipulate everything so that the outcome is positive.I recently read the book "Why Zebras Don't Get Ulcers" by Robert M. Sapolsky. The book combines a sense of humor with research on causes of stress. Of course, there is much information about "control" and I am smart enough to apply the facts to myself.One sentence got my attention. "There are some jobs where stress comes in the form of having too much control and responsibility that rare occupation where, over the course of an average workday, you might find yourself having to direct the landing pattern of an array of circling jumbo jets at the local airport, personally excise someone's cerebral aneurysm, and make the final decision as to whether taffeta is going to be IN at the fall runway show in Milan."After I read that sentence, I realized how silly I am. My concerns and wish for control are minor in comparison to some folks' lives. If my husband makes a wrong turn in the car, we can stop and turn around. If I don't make the bed, wash the dishes and open the blinds, the world won't stop spinning. If my friends use the wrong dishes at the wedding reception, no one will care as long as the food is good. And if my husband and my grandson want to debate an issue at the dinner table, I can start a conversation with someone else and ignore them.Correcting grammar will probably be a trait of mine until I die. Now, all I have to do is figure out a way to have the pilot let me sit beside him and help him fly the plane.If you would like to contact Dr. Smith, she can be reached at her email address: jsmith1313@cfl.rr.com or in care of this newspaper.