I’m often the first one up on weekdays. The sun hasn’t begun to light the sky with its vibrant and rapidly changing colors. I start coffee, glance over everyone’s schedule so no one forgets a jersey, extra snacks in their lunch or a project due date. I don’t helicopter parent; I have just found that everyone’s day goes a little smoother with a gentle reminder of “did you remember your blah blah blah today?” After making breakfast, we all sufficiently trash the kitchen in our efforts to scoot out the door in time for the bus. We walk the three-minute trek down the driveway no matter the weather. (Praises to our incredible bus drivers!) and I send my whole family off to their day.
Before I head inside, I feed animals, dig out snow drifts, or move straw and whatever else is needed. Then I get to go back inside.
Enter mom guilt.
It’s not that I don’t value the work I do. I still have a busy day of work for one job, work for another, chores. But damn it all if I don’t still feel small. I’ll take an hour to write this to you because I enjoy this. This work is honing a skill I cherish. This Substack is where I learn as much as I write. My goals are to find what I enjoy writing about, what I’m good at writing about, and who you all are who read it. Someday it could be more, I hope. For now, it is a commitment I enjoy. It fills my cup, and my prayers are that it helps to fill yours.
Did I really need to explain that out? Was it necessary for me to justify? Who am I justifying myself to?
I don’t know, either.
Mom guilt, like a shadow, enters the recesses of my brain and entangles me in a worthless duel at the most inopportune times of day.
Mom guilt, like a wraith, attacks my confidence in new friendships. It makes me second guess what was said, how it was said, if I said all the right things or if I went off on a tangent and fell of the boat in the process.
Mom guilt, like a dense fog, blurs my line of sight as to what matters most and why. What am I doing? Do I do enough? And who the heck is judging that competition?
No one. There are no judges. There is no competition. At least not a competition I want to enter. There’s no healthy prize for me in comparisons.
So out with you, guilt! Out I say! I have no time for you and there’s no place for you here!
I raise my now lukewarm cup of coffee in cheers to us all. Moms, Dads, Humans, Adults, all who are heading into our day, whatever it may be. Work from home, or commute 100 miles. Get dressed or don’t. Drive, walk, run or teach, stock shelves, or climb ladders. We live our lives and get it done. There’s work to do and we all have our reasons for doing it. Cheers to doing it to the best of our abilities.
Comparison is satan’s game. And I don’t wanna play.
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