I can vividly remember when my now husband and I started getting serious, he said that he would like for me to stay home with our children. My reply, laughter. After all, I wasn’t going to college to be a stay at home mom. Oh how our words come back to bite us on the ass.
Today, I would give anything to be able to be home more with my children and raise them myself. Instead, day after day I drop my children off so others can care for them and I go off to work. Every morning, I try to sneak out of bed before my son wakes up. I tip toe into the bathroom to begin the endless routine of trying to beautify myself. I then sneak back into my room and try to find a flattering, professional outfit in the dark (mainly because my son is probably in my bed). If I get this accomplished before he springs out of bed by 6 am, then my morning has gotten off to a good start. If he is up, I have to get ready while my son incessantly tries to save me from being swallowed by the drain, entering a fantasy world and which would cause me to never ever return from that magical place known as the bathroom. Or at least I'm assuming that is why he freaks every time I go in there alone: he's not a mama's boy, he is just protective and wants to make sure I don’t end up in the abyss.
This is where the guilt begins. The second I drop my son off and see his little eyes follow me out the door. Or when I place my daughter in her mom-mom’s arms and she reaches out for me crying. From that moment on, this immense feeling of guilt overcomes me and even though I am doing this for my family, I long for a better solution. So the overcompensating kicks in.
My life would be easier if I just walked into the grocery store and stocked up on all those delicious Gerber selections. But no, I neglect my daughter enough during the day so I have to spend the time that she is sleeping steaming and pureeing carrots, sweets potatoes, peas and butternut squash. What about fruit you ask? Well that gets made every morning before I get her out of her crib so she can have fresh bananas and apples. I don’t take any breaks while at work because I have to pump my breast milk so she can have a little taste of mommy while I am out making a name for myself. Shopping at the grocery store would be easier if my very active 2 year old wasn’t with me; but how can I leave him on a Saturday when I just left him all week long? So he comes along. And showers? Well they simply offer another opportunity for my son and me to be together (hopefully you notice the sarcasm).
Travelling for work doesn’t make it easier. Today, my husband sent me a video of my daughter, who was about one thrust away from a full blown crawl, her first crawl that I could potentially miss if I don’t hurry home tomorrow (I’m hoping my lovely husband will choose to keep her in her bumbo until I return, therefore taking away any possibility of her crawling). When I sit around and hear people say, “oh, a girls night out is a necessity” or when I read on Facebook things like “I can’t wait to go out tonight and drink” I can’t help but notice that I have no desire for that. Leaving my children and husband is not something I look forward to and I often wonder why they do. Maybe I envy them because they don’t appear to have the need to be with their families at all possible times like I do. I have been away from them for 3 days now and I am counting down the minutes until I should be home again (roughly 1,080). Or maybe I’m proud of myself for having formed such a wonderful circle that fulfills me in every way that I don’t need gratification from anywhere else. What I am certain about is that this guilt will continue to haunt me and make me overcompensate in many ways. Ah, school bake sales will be a blast…
