Monday, March 2, 2015

How much do moms actually have to give? Or: Why I'm a terrible mom.

Today is my birthday, and I have planned a luxurious and relaxing day for myself.  I booked three hours (THREE HOURS!) at the spa and plan to go to the movies by myself afterwards.  I've been walking around telling everyone that for the first time since becoming a mom, I'm taking a day off just for me!  This is the first vacation day I've taken since FrencyFry was born where we weren't going out of town or daycare wasn't closed.  This really is a first for me to just take the day for myself, and I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this.

This morning, after the husband left for daycare drop off and work, I started the day by watching some House of Cards, Interneting and general lazy-bumness on the couch while drinking my coffee.  Off to a great start!

And then the phone rang...

FrenchFry threw up on the way to school.



Yes - I actually cried.  Not tears for my toddler but tears for ME.  (See: terrible mom.)

I just can't believe it.  My day, my spa treatment, going to the movies, my ME time... it's all slipping away from me with one simple phone call.  My husband is actually on the way home right now with him and he's volunteered to take the day off from work to take care of our son so I can still have my day, but I feel so conflicted.  If FrenchFry is not feeling well then I do want to be there to comfort him.  Ugh.  <whimper>  But it was supposed to be MY DAY!!

And now the question is - can I leave a sick kid and even enjoy a spa experience?   Will I hate myself if I stick with the plan?  Moms are bombarded with messages that tell us to take care of ourselves while simultaneously living up to these incredibly high standards we are given. When we do try to take time for ourselves it's hard not to feel that familiar mom guilt. 

Coincidentally, last night Tim was reading FrenchFry the Giving Tree, and I was telling him that I really don't like the book.  I think it's because it feels like it's about the martyrdom of motherhood - and that's really not my favorite part of being a mom.  It seems like we are expected to be happy giving all of ourselves over to our kids, but how can we be?  Don't we have to preserve ourselves somehow through this thing called motherhood?  Can we give all of our love without chopping off our limbs too?

Is the little boy an ungrateful little jerk or is it just me?

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