Mommy-Guilt and Less Selfish Revelations

My daily routine goes something like this: wake-up, immediately start getting ready so I can be dressed by the time two sleepy boys come down the hall, take the sleepy boys down the stairs, get breakfast started for kids, pack my lunch, feed the dog, attempt to get children dressed, leave for work, see patients all day, pick up kids, start dinner upon entering the door, play with kids, baths, stories, 30 minutes-2 hours of post-lights out attempts at inducing sleep, awaking in the children's bed, stumbling down the hall to my bed, drifting off to sleep to the sounds of my husband snoring (sorry honey!) and repeat the next 6 days.

It's easy to say that I long for days where I get a moment to myself. I daydream about the days I used to come home and check my email, flip the TV to a non-animated show and go to bed when I wanted to. So when Brad offered to take the kids to Nashville for a night a few weekends ago, I was conflicted because I felt a great sense of guilt at letting them go without me. 

I think it stems from being a working mom and knowing that weekends should be treasured. It's the mom-guilt that I'm somehow not being there enough for my boys during their waking hours. But when I look back at the last 4 1/2 years as a parent, I realize that I can still count the nights I've been away from my kids on two hands. And it wasn't like I was abandoning my children. They were going to their grandparents house with my husband, their father. Needless to say, they were not feeling the see-saw of emotions I was, they were just ecstatic to go see their beloved Mohm and Gogo (yep, those are their grandparent names)! 

I know I need to get over myself. I think back on my childhood and the great times I had with just my mom or just my dad. I remember sleep-overs at my Grandma's were the best and the over-nights at my aunts and uncles were always awesome (except for the clocks at Aunt Dorie's house...those of you who have stayed there know what I'm talking about)! And my children need to have those experiences without me. I guess part of me worries I'm going to miss something special. We've long past the days of firsts (first words, first steps, etc), but there is so much joy in seeing my kids discover and do new things. I love watching them with our family and seeing how loved they are. I hate just hearing about it. 

On the other hand, I watched all the shows I wanted to watch that night. I went to bed when I wanted and got up when I wanted. I cleaned the house and it stayed that way (until 10 minutes after the crew returned from Nashvegas). I ran errands without worrying I had to get back to relieve my husband. I got my haircut! I needed a day and night to myself, because in all honesty, I haven't had one in a very long time. 

This parenthood gig has made the whole "dying to self" thing so much clearer to me. For years, my involvement in Christian circles has touched on how we must "die to self" to truly know what God wants from us. That's easy to talk up that Christian lingo but really hard to do as a single adult without too much true responsibility. But it becomes very clear what that means when you are a parent. 

I don't do anything where my first thought isn't, "where, when, how will this affect my kids?" When I was breast-feeding, I was constantly thinking about how to keep this little creature alive, since I was providing his nourishment. This came with the inability to realize I needed a shower or a change in the clothes I had been wearing for 72 hours straight. I don't plan my own agenda without preparing a coordinating one for the rest of the family. I really don't get to think about myself first, nor do I really want to, because these other people in my life are so important to me. That's dying to self. When it's no longer about you any more, and it's all about the ones you love. That's what God wants from us. 

Can I just comment here that dying to self is exhausting, scary, and a constant struggle? I would have never thought how consuming motherhood was going to be. I would have never realized how often I would long to be in two places at once (one place that the only rule was: no children allowed, and the other rolling around on the floor playing silly games with my boys). I never realized how often I would choose to not do something for myself for the sake of my kids. I never realized how much I coveted my time and my schedule. 

Now, I'm not saying that I didn't deserve a break. God knows, and so do all you mommies, that we all need a recharge sometimes. Our littles are better served if we aren't going crazy on a daily basis. But I try to step back every once in a while and realize that my parenthood parallels God being our Holy Father/Mother/Being. He sacrifices a lot for us, lets us go off and do all the crazy things we think are getting us somewhere, and then he's there when we run through the door screaming, "Daddy, I'm home!" He doesn't take vacations away from us, and he wants nothing more from us but to drop all our outside distractions and realize the love that we have before us. On my good days, I can do that. On my bad days (which are more often than I like to admit) I try to check-out for a few minutes on my phone or with bad cable TV. 

I don't know how to stop feeling the conflict of trying to be there for everything in my family's life. But I'm trying to really make an effort to realize that God's a parent too and he doesn't want us to feel guilty for allowing our kids to have experiences without us present. In fact, I know the day will come where I won't be there for my kids every wake-up and bedtime, and thinking about that makes me sad. But I cannot let my desire to keep them innocent and little stop me from teaching them independence and self-care. I can be an example that "dying to self" doesn't mean I have to neglect myself either. Taking a break doesn't mean checking out of life at all levels.

We start as selfish beings, all-consumed with ourselves. We were not meant to continue that way throughout life, that's why a lot of us become parents. I think God knew we could never truly give ourselves over to him without having a clear example in our daily lives. Boy, did he get it right! Until this little living, breathing miracle became mine, required my love, devotion, direction, and of course, re-direction, I didn't get it. I didn't get the way God loves us, wants us to leave everything and be his. He wants to be the arms we run to for comfort. And I understand that so much clearer now. A weekend of reflection and missing my kids does wonders for the soul. This post would not have been written in the middle of our normal, chaotic days and nights. And in the end, the break was good, but the reunion was better!