A topic that’s close to my heart… mommy guilt.
Now, like or unlike you, I am genetically predisposed to being guilty for myself and the things that I do, even when I have absolutely no reason to be guilty for anything. My mom, who is my most cherished friend (love you, mom) likes to apologize for everything. Don’t worry, she won’t be offended by this post, because she is well aware of this, and we regularly discuss it. As I was raised by her, and we’re very close, I have inherited this lovely trait, which my husband despises. I have made a conscious effort to work on it, as I am trying to not pass this down to my children. The jury is still out on whether I am succeeding.
As a naturally guilty and apologetic person, you can imagine the insane quantities of mommy guilt I feel on a daily basis. Like today, I should have taken my kids to the park since school was cancelled for the holiday. But did I? Nope. Why? They were driving me absolutely insane. Whiny, clingy, destructive little demon children. I just didn’t want to deal with chasing them around. So I kept them home. Granted, we played outside at home. But still, I did a decent amount of reading news on the computer and told them I was working (they’ll never know, right?). I’m generally pretty good at keeping my kids busy, so when I don’t because I’m a lazy piece of s**t or because I’m just fed up, I feel so f**cking guilty. What kind of mother am I, keeping my kids at home on a beautiful day? You suck, momma.
Then comes dinner time, when my children (one who doesn’t nap, and the other who barely napped today) are assuredly not going to eat anything I feed them. So, I say, f*ck making a real dinner. Here, have this scrambled egg with some sliced avocado on the side. Cue inner voice: You suck even more now, momma. You were home all day and didn’t make anything real to eat. For anyone who was wondering, my daughter ate some avocado but didn’t touch her eggs, and my son ate some of each before throwing it all over the walls and floor. So, better than I expected?
Then my husband asks on his way home from work… “what’s the food situation at home?” Wahahahaha! You can eat the cold eggs I’ve scraped off the kitchen floor? Then I open the fridge. Oh yeah, I should have taken them to the grocery store, or at least gone on the computer and ordered some Fresh Direct. But nope, didn’t do that either. So… how about picking up some take-out? Susie homemaker, I am not. Annnnnd, cue the inner voice again: How lazy can you be?! You spend all day at home and don’t make dinner? For shame!
By the time bedtime rolled around… mommy has had it! I should be thrilled that I’ve made it to 6:00 p.m. without smoke coming out of my ears. Instead, I feel guilty for being relieved! I should enjoy my kids every second of every day. I should be grateful that I get to stay home with them. I guess it’s because I acutely know how lucky I am that I feel guilty for feeling like I’ve done a crappy job or had a bad day.
Granted, I do have two children running around me in circles, and today they were needy and whiny little barnacles. Plus I work from home, and I do this in my spare time. So, I do try to cut myself some slack sometimes. But, the guilt is real, people.
Now, here I sit blogging, and I’ll be sitting down to draw after this. What thoughts do you think are running through my guilty brain now? You got it! I should be working! I have a file that needs working on sitting right in front of me. Am I working on it? Nope. Should I be? Yep. But my kids destroyed me today, and quite frankly, drafting a breach of contract complaint is just not my idea of decompressing. I’ll do it tomorrow, with my daughter screaming “MOMMY!!!!!” in the background, and my son pulling the laptop cord out of the wall a hundred zillion times.
And here comes the kicker: now I’m guilty for feeling guilty. WTF?
Welcome to motherhood. Who’s riding the guilt train with me?
Cheers to making it past this week’s halfway point.