Letting Go of the Mom Guilt
My kids are 14, 16, and 18 and I'm still dealing with mom guilt. It never goes away. I wonder if I'll still have it when they are 24, 26, and 28. I'll have to ask my mom. In fact, Domestic Spaz, my previous blog, was pretty much inspired by my mom guilt. The whole thing centered on how I felt I was failing as a mother. I mean, I tried to make it funny - have a little laugh about it. I was relatable... because we all feel like we're failing as a mother. So my failures, my mishaps, probably made some other moms feel better about their own failures and their own mishaps.
On Mondays my youngest, Nicholas, has Boy Scouts. My husband, The Man, had a meeting to attend and our oldest, William, was working. We do have a car for Will to use but it's an old Honda Accord and it has an airbag recall. I just haven't been comfortable with him driving it until we got the airbag recall done so he had my van. (Sidenote: we got the airbag recall fixed yesterday so all is good.)
At any rate, The Man dropped Nicholas off at his Boy Scout meeting and told him if he couldn't get a ride home to call us as soon as he knew. See, there are several families that have boys who live down our street so usually a ride home is no big deal. But in the case that he couldn't get a ride, my husband would leave his meeting early and grab him when the meeting was over.
All should have been well. Except it wasn't.
At 8:30, when the Boy Scout meeting was over, I got a call from The Man.
"Nicholas can't get a ride home and says he doesn't want to make them wait the 15 minutes it will take for me to get there to pick him up."
I immediately FREAK OUT. I grab the keys to the death trap Honda and run out to the car to race off to the meeting to pick him up. The death trap won't start because it hasn't been started in forEVER and the battery is dead and it's pitch black and I can't see and I'm not even listening to what The Man is saying on the phone because I'm just FREAKING OUT, Y'ALL.
Why do I freak out? Nicholas is safe. At most our family has inconvenienced someone for an extra 15 minutes. This isn't life threatening. But I am yelling and screaming and freaking out on the phone. Why? Because mom guilt is taking over my brain. I am freaking out because someone is sitting at that meeting with my son thinking "Who doesn't pick their kid up on time from Boy Scouts?"
Me. I don't pick my kid up on time from Boy Scouts. I am the #BadMom.
Nevermind the fact that The Man is the one who takes him and picks him up 80% of the time. Nevermind the fact that in a few years I will likely never see the particular scout mom that was waiting with him again. Nevermind that this wasn't something that happened out of any kind of malice.
I mean... okay, I know my kid and maybe I should have seen it coming. But I really thought it would work out this time.
The whole point of the story is that I was racked with mom guilt. So much that it is now Thursday night and I am still thinking about it. I am still dwelling on what some other mom is thinking of me. Moms are hardest on themselves... but we are petrified that other moms are judging us. It's ridiculous. I feel like it's gotten better since the kids were little.... like in pre-school when our super fair skinned daughter, Claudia, had the worst sunburn ever and I got a lecture about how we needed to understand the Florida sun and the impact it could have on a child's skin. We're Florida natives - Claudia wasn't even 3 and we just had never dealt with someone so fair. I cried the whole night because I was feeling judged.
Or the time I brought pre-packaged fruit cups and regular Capri Suns to 6 year old Will's flag football game for half-time snack. Evidently only fresh fruit and Gatorade was acceptable. I didn't see that on the sign up sheet, but believe me - it only took one time for me to learn.
The Man doesn't freak out. Dads evidently don't have dad guilt. He just shrugs and does what he perceives to be his best. And because he's a dad he gets a pass. Like - if a dad does anything involving his kids he's a saint and if a mom doesn't do everything involving her kids she's completely unfit.
This year - in addition to the whole being true to myself thing - I'm also just going to give myself a break. I'm going to be less hard on myself and just try to see all the good I'm doing. Life is too damn short for me to be worrying what some other mom thinks of me.
On Mondays my youngest, Nicholas, has Boy Scouts. My husband, The Man, had a meeting to attend and our oldest, William, was working. We do have a car for Will to use but it's an old Honda Accord and it has an airbag recall. I just haven't been comfortable with him driving it until we got the airbag recall done so he had my van. (Sidenote: we got the airbag recall fixed yesterday so all is good.)
At any rate, The Man dropped Nicholas off at his Boy Scout meeting and told him if he couldn't get a ride home to call us as soon as he knew. See, there are several families that have boys who live down our street so usually a ride home is no big deal. But in the case that he couldn't get a ride, my husband would leave his meeting early and grab him when the meeting was over.
All should have been well. Except it wasn't.
At 8:30, when the Boy Scout meeting was over, I got a call from The Man.
"Nicholas can't get a ride home and says he doesn't want to make them wait the 15 minutes it will take for me to get there to pick him up."
I immediately FREAK OUT. I grab the keys to the death trap Honda and run out to the car to race off to the meeting to pick him up. The death trap won't start because it hasn't been started in forEVER and the battery is dead and it's pitch black and I can't see and I'm not even listening to what The Man is saying on the phone because I'm just FREAKING OUT, Y'ALL.
Why do I freak out? Nicholas is safe. At most our family has inconvenienced someone for an extra 15 minutes. This isn't life threatening. But I am yelling and screaming and freaking out on the phone. Why? Because mom guilt is taking over my brain. I am freaking out because someone is sitting at that meeting with my son thinking "Who doesn't pick their kid up on time from Boy Scouts?"
Nevermind the fact that The Man is the one who takes him and picks him up 80% of the time. Nevermind the fact that in a few years I will likely never see the particular scout mom that was waiting with him again. Nevermind that this wasn't something that happened out of any kind of malice.
I mean... okay, I know my kid and maybe I should have seen it coming. But I really thought it would work out this time.
The whole point of the story is that I was racked with mom guilt. So much that it is now Thursday night and I am still thinking about it. I am still dwelling on what some other mom is thinking of me. Moms are hardest on themselves... but we are petrified that other moms are judging us. It's ridiculous. I feel like it's gotten better since the kids were little.... like in pre-school when our super fair skinned daughter, Claudia, had the worst sunburn ever and I got a lecture about how we needed to understand the Florida sun and the impact it could have on a child's skin. We're Florida natives - Claudia wasn't even 3 and we just had never dealt with someone so fair. I cried the whole night because I was feeling judged.
Or the time I brought pre-packaged fruit cups and regular Capri Suns to 6 year old Will's flag football game for half-time snack. Evidently only fresh fruit and Gatorade was acceptable. I didn't see that on the sign up sheet, but believe me - it only took one time for me to learn.
The Man doesn't freak out. Dads evidently don't have dad guilt. He just shrugs and does what he perceives to be his best. And because he's a dad he gets a pass. Like - if a dad does anything involving his kids he's a saint and if a mom doesn't do everything involving her kids she's completely unfit.
This year - in addition to the whole being true to myself thing - I'm also just going to give myself a break. I'm going to be less hard on myself and just try to see all the good I'm doing. Life is too damn short for me to be worrying what some other mom thinks of me.
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