Wednesday Words of Wisdom: Mom Guilt

We all have it. You know that little niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is just not right. Maybe you didn’t breastfeed or your baby’s first food was a McDonald’s French fry (mine was, thanks mom!:). Maybe you work and your child stays at daycare. Maybe you stay home but you don’t feel like shuttling your children to eight different activities (will my child survive if I only do one sport and no music? What if we don’t do anything for a season- will the world combust?). And, date night? Cue the crying. Don’t even think about a trip out with friends- “you’re going to be gone all day, mommy?!?!” Shouted in dismay. Yes, child all day and 3 or 4 hours are totally the same thing. 

This morning, I woke at 5 am to little teething monster sobs and somewhere between 7:30 and 8 decided sleep was futile. I got up and hopped into the shower- it’s like they sense it. In tiptoes my two year old and peeks around the curtain “Hi, mama!” I have plans. I’m going to, get this, run errands with a mom friend. How could I? As I dress, little bleary eyed children wander into the room and coalesce on the bed. Ah their haven, their soft, warm, cocoon of happiness. I finish dressing and herd my crew downstairs for breakfast, tripping over any number of odds and ends that litter my house. 

Then, there’s breakfast. “I want cereal!” “I want pancakes!” “I want a bagel!” So, it begins. Half an hour, a quick clutter clean up, and a load of laundry later, I sit down to eat my own lukewarm instant apples and cinnamon oatmeal (it’s the three times as expensive gluten free organic brand so it must be good for us). 

“Mommy, I want oatmeal!” Says the two year old who already had breakfast number one. After shoving a few spoonfuls in my own mouth, I decide it’s less work to just hand it over to the little pilferer (I’m not saying I went without for his own sake- it was just easier and I do like Kind bars). At this point, I’m aching to get on with my mommy date. I’ve bribed the children with a trip to target for Valentine’s goodies and everything is set for Daddy to work from home with the little monsters at least somewhat occupied. 

I start to get my coat on. The wails begin. “Why do you have to go mama?” “How long will you be gone?” “I want to come with you!!” Inevitably, at least one child has a complete and utter meltdown to the point where I wonder if I should even bother going? But, yes, I wear the mom hat 24/7 and even though my husband is extremely helpful and supportive it’s exhausting. And, guess what- that friend I’m going out with? I haven’t seen her in two weeks. Not even for a play date. You want to know why? Irish dancing. Soccer. Laundry. House chores. Work. Life. The list goes on. 

So, how do we manage to self care when our littlest beings demand so much from us? And, I know some of you know what I’m talking about- no matter how much you give, those greedy little things want more. It leaves me in a state of perpetual uncertainty: is my two year old throwing a tantrum because I don’t have as much time to sit and play with him as I did his sisters? Is the five year old picking up her letters at a more relaxed pace because I didn’t spend hours reading her age appropriate books at six weeks old? Is my eight year old shy and quiet with strangers because she’s not enrolled in enough extra curricular activities? 

When your job is mom, there is a never ending parade of questions marching through your head, blaming you for every little misstep, every spilt milk, and temper tantrum. As if you didn’t feel guilty enough, there’s always someone out there to let you know you’re doing it all wrong. “Why isn’t he sleeping through the night, you must not be doing bedtime right.” “Why isn’t she rear facing, you know that’s the safest way to ride until they’re 16 right?” And, my all time favorite: “Oh you finally got your boy, you’re done!” (Someone tell baby Hey J because he did not get the memo.) The latter was actually yelled to me across Costco as I was leaving with my peacefully quiet children (miracles do happen) by a perfect stranger. 

Mom guilt. It’s real. What’s the solution? Not caring? I don’t know that that really solves anything. I can’t imagine apathy being in the same sentence as anything involving my kids. Valuing self care? Easier said than done. I often hear people say “put the air mask on yourself before you help anyone else” but what if you only have time for one air mask, what then? 

I don’t know, but perhaps it’s something to ponder for next time.