Guilt. Balance. And A New Phase Emerging

Okay, peeps.

Who’s ready for a fun round of guilt talk???

Anybody? Anybody?? (*Taps mic. Is this thing on??)

Alrighty, then. Settle in for a long rambling (if you’re at all interested), ‘cause this one is kind of a brewing doozie:

So...in my particular life, as the individual that I’m wired to be, guilt is a pretty defining emotion. 

I’m one of those over-apologizers. You know the type. That person who even apologizes for apologizing too much. Yup, that’s me. I own it. It’s a part of who I am.

But lately (like, perhaps the last six or nine months), I’ve noticed my mom-related guilt has really started to concentrate around two areas:

• The challenge of snagging independent time
• The challenge of accepting my weaknesses

Okay, so let’s tackle the first one.

GUILT, PART 1

Some background, first: I had the opportunity to have a challenging and fascinating career before we started a family, and I was all in during those years.

But now, for the better part of this past decade, I’ve been all in with my kiddos. I’ve had the desire to be, the fulfillment in being, and the support system to be a stay-at-home-mom since my children were born, and it has been the absolute joy of my life.

And now this past year, I’ve begun the interesting and somewhat disorienting experiencing of seeing a bit of a light at the end of the preschool tunnel. For two days a week, I have all three kiddos in some form of school, for some hours of the day.

And though it hasn’t been the window to a new kind of freedom that I’d anticipated—hello, sick kiddos, volunteering commitments, personal appointments and life chores/errands that just suck that brief time away—it’s certainly the beginning of what will someday be a larger transition of having all elementary-aged children.

What will that be like??? Honestly, it’s still a bit unfathomable. But I can see that it’s on the (still a bit distant horizon), and I’ve started to feel the pull towards it.

Now. I’m fortunate in that I know what I want to do with that time, someday (another post for another day, when that comes), so I don’t fear that transition or worry that I’ll feel adrift.

Instead, I find myself in this weird limbo year—or two—when I’m no longer in the my-children-are-so-young-they-can’t-be-left-in-a-room-alone stage, but I’m also not in the I-can-control-my-own-time stage, either.

For so long, I was all-hands-on-deck, I-birthed-three-kiddos-in-less-than-four-years, and was basically just in the weeds, not looking up, just living all in it. But I can say that I was present for it all, and felt a great sense of purpose and happiness in that phase.

And, man, was it crazy/beautiful. And a season of life that I know I’ll always remember as one of the best for so many reasons.

But there’s an odd sort of downside to being all in, all the time, as thing are now shifting the teeniest, tiniest bit with my children aging. And I can see how that downside is currently manifesting in my life.

Now, whether this has always been there and I haven’t noticed, or it’s a trigger of my children aging, or a bi-product of this weird mom-life transition that has begun, I can’t say. But the gist is this:

My kiddos have pretty much always had 100% of me, 100% of the time, with the result being that they’ve come to expect it. Whine for it. Guilt me a bit over it. In a way that might not fly—or be particularly healthy—as the years continue.

Now, I’m aware that this might sound a little weird or perhaps ungrateful for this beautiful mother-to-young-kiddo phase of being wanted and loved, so let me give you a pretty straightforward example that might help give some context.  

Last Fall, once our school routine was relatively settled, I enrolled myself in a Barre class that I try to attend on mornings when Little Man is in school.

But about a month in, I’d had a particularly grueling schedule for a couple of weeks and hadn’t been able to catch a class, and didn’t want to waste the membership money on something I actively wanted. So one night, I went to a class in the evening instead, and Chica just lost it.

She literally just kind of went nuclear, sobbing incoherently, physically pulling at my clothing, and just not handling my departure well. 

Of course, I listed all the very valid reasons it was important for me to go—the least of which, that it was healthy for my body—and she just couldn’t process it. Because leaving in the evening (or anytime, for that matter), is not something I do often, so it threw her for a loop. 

It took her until I was there and back to truly settle down, and while I was away, she drew this picture that was both hysterical and heartbreaking. A recreation of my departure and her response to it (front and back on a page):

I mean, talk about just...UGH. Nobody wants to see their child’s anguish drawn all over the page like this.

And, yet, oddly—for someone like myself, often plagued by guilt—I was okay with it. I knew I’d done nothing wrong. I knew it was a healthy thing for my body and mind. And I knew Chica was cared for at home while I was away.

So more than having me swimming in guilt, the episode really got me thinking about the type of example I want to set for my children someday when they are adults or parents, actively looking after their own bodies and mental health, carving out a sliver of “me” time. And whether or not I want them to feel any form of guilt for that. 

And, of course, the answer is NO!

I want them to feel the beauty of a balanced and fulfilled life. Of, course I do.

Now, admittedly, this example is one riddled with other contextual factors. Perhaps Chica was not feeling so great that night. Perhaps it was more about disruption of routine than the feeling that I’d abandoned her. Or perhaps it was just a one-off meltdown. One can never tell, right?

But it certainly pairs with a pattern of my kiddos really expecting to be in the near-constant presence of, and entertained by me—and Daddy, when he’s home. And the guilt that covers me when I’m exhausted, or having an off day, or I’m short of patience; when I’m playing with one and not three of them, or simply having a day where I’m wanting to shortcut parenting a bit. We all have those days.

And before you say it, I’ll beat you to it and admit that I’m aware the time will come in the very near future when I’ll be yearning for the love and undivided attention of my kiddos. But that time is not now. A balance is best in any scenario, and by that point, a million other factors will be in play, no doubt. All I can do is focus on the here and now, and keeping us all supremely happy and healthy. 

So...the point of this first half of a rambling post is this:

It is currently an increasing focus of mine to foster the empathy, understanding and recognition in my children that it’s perfectly normal to cut their parent(s) some slack. To play amongst one another without my involvement, or to curl up with a book or a game in their respective rooms, or to just give me a break—no matter what the reason. Without guilting me over it.

I want healthy, well-adjusted, independent adults, peeps. And we’re now at a stage where they can truly absorb my lessons on this front—both spoken and through example—so the time is ripe for laying that foundation. 

GUILT, PART 2:

I know, I know you’re sitting there thinking: how can she possibly ramble more????

Rest assured. You’re reading of your own volition. Abandon post (literally) if you’ve lost interest. But fortunately, this guilt portion is more concise and straightforward. And the gist is this:

I’ve really had to come to terms lately with my strengths as a parent, and the areas where it’s perfectly okay to let someone else—ahem, Daddy for the win—really shine. And to not feel guilty about it. 

Basically, it all comes down to the simple fact that I am my kiddos’ caregiver 13 waking hours of their day, and I don’t just get to be the fun parent.

I’m the one who has to feed them and clothe them (curse you, never-ending laundry), prod them to complete their homework and tutor them when the need is there. I’m the taxi that shuffles them to their extracurriculars and the one who takes care of the household cleaning, and the one who handles pick-ups and drop-offs and doctor’s appointments, bad moods and illnesses.

And just like the battle of me versus them time, the battle of chores versus fun is ever-present. And one that can easily get me down.

I don’t want to feel guilty because I have to load the dishwasher instead of chasing them around. Or because I have to force them to practice their spelling or pick up their toys instead of playing a made-up game. I really do wish I could be all fun, all the time.

But again—its all about balance. And knowing my own truth (as the hubby constants reminds me).

I know how much time I devote to them—crafting, reading, snuggling, chatting, organizing their events and adventures and being the general glue to our days.

And I know it’s okay to let the hubby be the one to burst in at the end of the day and toss them upside down and chase them giggling around the entire house, and make up silly, no-holds-bars games that just tickle them to no end. That’s his parenting time to shine, and one of the reasons I love him like mad.

And it’s okay to know this and not feel guilty about it—even on the days when my kiddos inadvertently compare Mama and Daddy, and don’t see all that goes into either of our roles. 

In summary:

This here blog, at times, is such a wonderful touchstone for my thoughts and concerns. As with a diary, sometimes it’s just cathartic to purge and put it all in writing to understand all that’s rattling around in my brain.

And if there’s one thing I’ve come to accept as a parent, it’s that change and growth (in all its forms) is CONSTANT. Just when I think I’ve got it all figured out, another phase emerges and I’m back to the drawing board—hopefully, with more tools to work with, each and every time.

And right now, my peeps, we just happen to be at the beginning of this transition from babies/toddlers/young kiddos to, well...just kiddos. Of elementary age.

And despite all the challenges and the guilt—oh, that darn guilt—I have no doubt this phase will be every bit as beautiful as the last.

And taking taking stock of it all is just an important rite of passage as we head onward and upwards.

I can only imagine the things I’ll have to think about this time next decade.  

Over and out. 

:)