Guilty (Part 1 of ?)

Oh, Mother Guilt. So many fellow bloggers and authors have written about the guilt mothers feel,  much more eloquently than I will. But, it wouldn’t be a blog about a mother working in a professional job without a post about guilt. This may the first of several times I write about it because I have this feeling a lot.

By the way, I am at Panera again, working solo. About 20 feet from me, facing me is a mother with her 4 children – three who are toddler age and 1 infant (as is said in the South, bless you, mother of 4). She seems to be a formidable mother conveying authority even though she is just sitting down and playing a game on her phone and her children are seated and standing in various profiles. A minute ago she stated, sternly “Absolutely not” to a question of one of her children that sounded like, “can we play in the water in the bathroom?” Absolutely not. There’s an excellent way of stating oneself. And, it ended it! The child did not ask any more. The mother then followed up with, “we may leave and go play at a park or you may color here at the table.” Now had that been me, I probably would have gently said, “no, honey, that is not a good idea because the bathroom is rather dirty and you could get very wet and you do not like wet clothes.”  Then, I may have stated what she said by providing other alternatives of activities. But, I don’t think I would have just come out and said, “Absolutely not.” Why not? That seems to be the easiest approach and so frickin’ effective! Next time, I’m saying, “Absolutely not.” So glad I do work at Panera, it’s like a office with a parenting lab in it.

Back to the guilt. In the afternoons, when I pick up Mr. Snuggles, an incredible kind sage of a woman is caring for him. She is grandmotherly, soft in her voice and demeanor. Well, Mr. Snuggles wasn’t feeling so good Friday afternoon and she let me know why she thought he was a little under the weather. “You know, he could be adjusting to being here full time now.” Thud. That was the bowling ball feeling of guilt crashing down in my gut. And then there was that awkward moment where your child’s caregiver is holding your child and you’re just standing there and every cell in your body is crying out, “GIVE ME MY BABY!!” Of course you can’t say that and you start to reach out your arms but then you notice that your child is quite content, calm, smiley and giving your child’s caregiver those appreciative eyes. Cheater, you think. Pin a big red “W” on my chest that stands for “Working.” Yep, guilty. Please forgive me, Mr. Snuggles! And then my mind goes down a path of rationalization, justification and apologies. It always ends with the question, “why, again, am I working?”  In an attempt to remain mindful and embrace the questions themselves, I will just recognize that this still is the question I am attempting to answer through this blog. Thus, I succumb to patience, once again.