Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Going Away

I’m on the plane waiting to start my weekend away without the kids. I’m going to pretty much the middle of nowhere, but that is okay, because when I get there one of my very best friends will be there to greet me.

It will be nice to sit back and spend some time with an old friend. To catch up on all that is going on in both of our busy lives. I’m looking forward to seeing her. I really truly am, but at the same time it is so hard to leave my kids.

I wonder if its because I’m a working mom. If I was a stay at home mom would it be easier? Would it be simpler to say, “see you in a few days,” if I spent all day every day with them. Would I have less guilt?

I think I would.

I’m not one of those Moms who wonders if her kids will eat their veggies and get enough sleep if she is gone. I don’t have to. My husband is one of the most competent dads I’ve ever met. He drives carpools, he makes dinner, supervises bathes, sometimes he will even start a load of laundry. (My own father ranks ranked right up there with him.)

So why do I feel bad about leaving them?

I have two theories. 1 – It’s a social/cultural thing that is embedded in us. 2 – its hardwired.

Okay, so now that I am writing it out both of these sound a little bit alike, but they aren’t.

Social/Cultural
Our society tells us that mothers should take care of their kids. If you have a job outside the home, or if your job is at home, society seems to say that it is the job of a mom – above anyone else – to take care of children. So, when you leave, even for a few days you aren’t doing your job as a mother.

I think. Its one of those subliminal message and passed on from your mother type of things. You know like collards at New Years and not wearing white after Labor Day.

Then there is theory number two.

Hardwired
Something internally, be it chemical, whatever says that you shouldn’t leave your baby(ies). When they are little and nursing, and you don’t see them for a while, it’s a physical pain, “find that baby. He needs you. And P.S. – get the milk outta these boobs lady.”

Only since the milk truck stage is over there isn’t the physical pain. At least not in the same way.

Instead it’s more of an aching in my heart. (There is also a constant need to pee. But maybe that is the water, soda and margarita that I had waiting through all the delays not nerves.) I know I need a break from my kids. I really truly want one, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

Enough.

I must stop beating myself up. Get into vacation mode and relax.

Margarita here I come.

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