Yesterday evening, Mark and Miller walked out the door to go to the park. Normally, I’d have gone with them. Last night, I gave myself a pass to stay home.
As the screen door closed, I heard Miller say, “Daddy, I sure do love…”
Mark responded, but my own guilty conscious was louder than his distant murmur.
In my mind, I heard Miller profess his love for his dad for doing fun things with him and taking him fun places while lame-o mom stays at home and misses an opportunity to make family memories.
I cut off those thoughts and focused instead on how much I love that Miller loves his dad. I love that Mark takes him fun places and does fun things with him. I love that they get one on one time together.
When the boys returned, I said, “Mark, how sweet was that when Miller told you how much he loved you as you walked out the door?”
Mark gave me a questioning look. “That’s not what he said. He said, ‘Daddy, I sure do love mommy,’ and I said, “Me too buddy.”
Mom guilt. At best it’s a misconception. At worst it’s a flat out lie.
Shoulds, feelings of not doing or being enough, that battering ram insisting More!, and a terrible little critic called comparison? They’re all mom guilt’s cronies. Find a way to stop those bullies as quickly as possible. Don’t fuel their falsities.
I stayed at home yesterday evening. I also made a new family memory. Take that mom guilt.