Living with Guilt

My post today is going to take a slightly different tone. My previous posts have been centred around myself and my ‘doofus’ ways, and I’ve decided that I want to talk about something I’ve probably never really spoken about – except to those very close to me.

Guilt. Or more specifically the guilt of the working mother.

Today my son stayed home from school. He has had a niggling cough for a while and last night he was particularly poorly. I called his school from outside my workplace this morning to report that he would be at home today, and after a conversation with the lovely receptionist I was asked which form class he was in. I had no idea. His teacher is new, I’ve never met her, and I didn’t even know her name. It suddenly dawned on me that my husband and mother know more about my son and daughter’s schooling than I do. I immediately felt the familiar stab of guilt. Right in the chest.

I’ve always worked since having my children. I returned to work when my son was 4 months old and when my daughter was 5 months. Not out of choice, but out of financial necessity. It just made financial sense for me to return to work, and my family were on hand to help out, and with a husband working flexi hours it all just seemed logical. We would struggle without two wages coming in.

I’ve got used to it over the years. I’ve missed so much. My family very kindly kept my son’s first steps a secret until I saw him do it at the weekend, and when my daughter cut her first teeth this was also left for me to ‘discover’. I had the chance to walk my son to school throughout the first 5 months of his schooling, whilst on maternity leave, which was wonderful and lead to me meeting some lovely mums and making friends; this is something that has been important to my son’s integration into the school, and our family into the local community. I’ve had to accept that I will not have this opportunity with my daughter. It will be my husband and mother on the school gates, not me.

I’m not ashamed to admit it – it hurts.

On the flip side I truly love my job, and my weekends and school holidays are dedicated to being with my children. I am very lucky to have the school holidays, and I’m always grateful for this time.

Being a working mother has made me a better mother. I appreciate the precious time I have with my children, and little things make me smile and become a big deal. Like hearing my son crack a joke I actually find funny , watching my daughter react to her first viewing of Cinderella, or wandering through the park with an ice cream.

Being a mother has also made me a better teacher. I find myself being a lot more caring and considerate of the students’ feelings. I treat my students how I’d like my children to be treated. I also appreciate my job so much more. I am very lucky to have such a wonderful job. I know this and do not take it for granted.

But all this does not stop the guilt. I feel guilty every time I leave the house in the morning, every time my children have a cold and I know I can not stay home and snuggle with them, every time there is a parent event / coffee morning at school and I can not attend, every sports day that falls on exam day, and every time I miss out on a big event because I am at work.

I’m also ashamed to admit that alongside the guilt comes a burning jealousy. I’m jealous that my husband gets to walk my babies to school most mornings before he leaves for work, I’m jealous that I’m always going to be the ‘third’ emergency contact for my children after my husband and mother. I’m just jealous that I miss out.

But over the last eleven years I’ve learnt to deal with it. I’ve learnt not to beat myself up over it, and I’ve learnt to cope. I’m not going to pretend to be the best mother in the world, nor am I claiming to have all the answers, and I am certainly not under the illusion that I am the only working mother in the world. I’ve just come to realise that it is OK to feel like this sometimes.

It is OK that sometimes I WANT to go to work to escape the madness at home. It is OK to lie and make up plans at the weekend so I can sit at home with my kids all day without interruption. It is OK to shamelessly treat my children whenever I can, and it is OK if sometimes I drive the long way home after a hard day to just listen to my music and unwind before I put on my ‘mum’ face.

It is OK.

It is OK because it is my way. It is the way I have chosen to live my life and bring up my children. I know that while I may not be there for sports day, I will happily watch my children play all day. I may not be able to always stay at home when my child has a cold, but I’ll be there as a comfort for every nightmare; and while I may not be there on the school gates when my children come out of school, they have my uninterrupted attention during the long school holidays.

I’m not the perfect mother, I make mistakes, I’m human. But I love my children dearly, and they always come first. They know this, they accept that ‘mummy works’ and enjoy their time with me during the weekends and holidays. My children love me.

This may not be the perfect solution / recipe for everyone’s family life, this set up may not work for others. But it works for us, and that is what counts.

So I got over my pang of guilt this morning and went into my first lesson of the day. My husband updated me on my son’s progress throughout the day, and when I returned home to take the parent baton from my husband, so he could start his shift, I cuddled my son and gave him the best medicine he could get.

Mummy’s cuddles.

#guilt #parenting #family #work #love