Guilt and the working mom....

This particular topic is very dear to my heart....more like the biggest headache I have at the moment.

When Tater was born, we decided the best thing was for me to stay home with him and attempt (note the word used) to find a work from home option that paid some of the bills. I wasn't looking to get rich but I did want to supplement my DH self employed income. So I entered the land of the "stay-at-home mom" for a couple years. I researched and researched and called and followed up and sat through conference calls, etc. until I was blue in the face. I literally mean I was blue in the face ~ one of my forays into the WAH world was with a make up company and the blue was some sort of facial type thing. Hated that because it made me break out like mad. Anyway, after many unsuccessful attempts, more than I want to admit to, I dabbled in real estate for a couple years. Enjoyed it but never really made the steady money I needed. Plus the last minute hours drove my sitter NUTS. One January when my son was almost 2 I was tipped off to a part time job that paid close to what I was looking for. Sounded like just the thing. And it was, for two and a half years. Good pay, flexible hours, and best of all, no clothes restrictions!!!

Sounds like I should be happy, right?

Well, Sweet Tater's unexpected presence seemed to demand a re-evaluation of the finances. Hmm, daycare for two. OUCH! It isn't cheap. I mean put gas and daycare together and you now have exceeded the gross national product for a small nation. Add the mortgage and I'm breathing out of a brown paper bag and popping Zoloft like tic tacs (just kidding). My part time job, while paying a decent amount, was no longer enough to pay for daycare, gas and the few other things it needed to take care of on a monthly basis. So, a-hunting I went for the "no way around it" full time job. The entire time I was job hunting, I was dealing with an emotion that was steadily growing by leaps and bounds and threatening to overtake me at any moment. Mommy Guilt. Yes, that's right. I had a HORRIBLE case and it was growing daily.

Why should my daughter suffer through daycare when we made the sacrifice for me to stay home with my son? Why should I do more for one than the other. Would she look back and think I didn't love her as much? Questions such as this battered me daily ... or more accurately, right before I would attempt to go to bed.

Add to the Mom questions was missing out on 3/4 of her day. Granted, most of it was sleeping and pooping at that point but still...someone else was taking care it her and it wasn't me. Someone else was seeing the new expressions on her face and watching her daily development. I got a "Daily Sunshine Report" and the occasional story. Not really my idea of parenting but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

So now I'm working full time and commuting about a half hour each way...well a half hour in and a full 1.5 hours home when I have to pick up the kids. DH takes them in the morning and I'm on pick up most of the time. So now I'm filled with the guilt that many mornings I leave before Sweet Tater even wakes up. Add to that she's been to daycare now 3 times with her clothes on backwards because DH either isn't awake or just doesn't get girls clothes. Then the end of the day rolls around...mentally, I'm done. Physically, well, I can handle a few more hours but not much. So I trek to the daycare, pick up the kids and head home. When one is not crying the entire way home, the other one is demanding I turn up the radio instead of telling me about his day. Which usually consists of my having to grill him like a 4th of July hamburger....what did you do today? are you working on any letters? writing your name? sign language? who did you play with today? did you go outside? what did you have for lunch? did you take a nap? The usual. I get answers like "Played" and "Nothing" followed by the request for the radio to blast away. Hmmm, okay well, we'll just talk more over dinner.

Yeah right.

I walk through the door and immediately Sweet Tater wants her supper and she wants it NOW. Forget putting her down in order to have 2 hands to prepare her meal, I have to figure out how to do it 1 handed or how to block out the piercing scream, yes, scream that she emits when she doesn't get her way. Girls and their piercing screams....whew, like nails down a chalk board to some. Ice picks in my ears but that's another topic.

So I attempt to figure out the family dinner while feeding her only to have Tater start complaining and bringing me everything but the kitchen sink to eat. More guilt. Dinner is not ready and not even close. I get Sweet Tater temporarily pacified with the dinner and little things she can grab with the newly discovered index finger and thumb. Now, on to the family dinner. No, Tater, I won't let you eat 6 slices of cheese and a handful of pretzels for dinner. No, ice cream is not a good substitute for the pretzels. By the time that discussion has concluded, I'm usually buried in the freezer feeling guilty because I don't have meals cooked and just ready to reheat for my family. Heck, I'm feeling guilt for wishing I had frozen pizzas and waffles stacked up in there. Or an unlimited supply of hot dogs and baked beans.

Getting dinner started also involves Sweet Tater playing at my feet or somewhere in the kitchen. Usually it ends up being at the base of the trash can seeing what she can pick up with those fingers.....sigh. Move her once, back there, move her a second time, back over there, hang her up in the doorway bouncer and she's happy! For 10 minutes. Dinner is ready to be put on the table and she's ready to get out of her fun little bouncy toy...it's almost 7 pm at this point. Bring on the guilt for dinner being so late. Ok, back to the table for Sweet Tater. WRONG. Sweet Tater is tired and doesn't want to cooperate for "family" dinner time. She's ready for her bath and jammies.

Here comes the guilt over not having her calm and ready for bed and being able to read her a story and snuggle before night night time. Guilt for not having time to just play with her....or Tater for that matter. At least I get a bit of time with him after his bath before he goes to bed. Unless there is something on tv that involves trucks, boats, or construction. More guilt over how much tv he watches.

So both kids are in bed and I'm as glazed as a Krispy Kreme donut. Still have the kitchen to clean up, bags to pack for the next day, and clothes to pick out for work. Dogs to feed, clothes to wash, and a husband to actually speak to. Of course, by this time, he's so fixated on the television, I have to dance naked in front of it to break his hyperfocus....just kidding. I merely stand in front of it...fully clothed....if I need him for something. If not, I usually go about my various "to-do's" and then stumble to the bathroom to get myself ready for bed. Feeling guilty because another day has gone by and I didn't get this and that and the other done like I said I would.

I'm going to stop here because there is a couple other directions I want to take this but it's getting (gotten) really long. So tune in for more guilt and the working mom tomorrow...or the next day but I'll feel guilty if I don't post tomorrow :-)

By the way, June Cleaver can bite me.