I’ve been accused of dropping off the planet the last few weeks.
My blog has been neglected, my home a train-wreck (until my lovely housekeeper paid a visit yesterday) and my husband and I have passed like ships in the night. Grandpa paid a visit to help me contain the chaos, but until I finish my project, the turmoil seems inevitable.
So, what detracts me? What takes me away from reality?
I’m ghost-writing a book and my deadline is Oct. 1st.
No pressure for a mom of three smack dab in football and soccer season, ministry kick-offs and oh, another two jobs.
So, I came up with a scheme (and probably the only way I could finish the book on time) which was to pack my bags and head for the hills -or La Quinta, in this case, to my parent’s giant home in the desert. I could get away for a few days, write like a fiend and finish the book.
I also thought I might rest a bit and refill my bucket.
But it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.
Stinking Mommy Guilt interfered.
Oh, she is a nasty thing. The morning I left, the “Berenstain Bears,” one of Kolby’s favorite shows was on and featured Mother Bear getting a job and not being there for her family. Father Bear and Brother and Sister were left to flounder and fend for themselves in the wake of Mother’s ambitious dreams.
Kolby looked up at me with big eyes, “You’ll never leave me, right Mama?”
“Uhhh, oh, ummm. I love you.” (As my bag is packed and in the car)
Seriously PBS? Is it a conspiracy? I thought you were a pro-woman liberal show and now you make me feel like poop!
As soon as I arrived in La Quinta, I put on my pajamas. These are the same pajamas I lived in for two and a half days.
After a few hours of work, I called home at bedtime and Kolby bawled in my ear. “I want you to come home now Mama.” My big kids groaned…”We miss you, Mom, please hurry up and come home.”
And Mommy Guilt washed over me in waves of fury.
All I wanted to do was make the wails of my children go away as fast as possible.
So, instead of working and taking leisurely breaks to swim or leave the house and eat or shop, I holed in like a burrowing groundhog and worked twenty hour a day. In my pajamas.
I took a few breaks to replenish my coffee cup, eat a few old crackers and demolish a box of macaroni.
I didn’t walk outside, watch TV, read, eat much or EVER relax. Stupid Mommy Guilt turned me into a stark raving mad woman possessed by the desire to get home fast at all costs.
I was like Benji separated from his family and the mountain in between me and my babies and hubs was a pile of words.
I could taste home and it was all I wanted.
I drove home Tuesday evening and finally relaxed, reveling in the arms of my kids and husband. (And maybe crying over the state of my house)
And then one of my neighbor friends -a lovely mommy with three little ones said to me, “I hear you went out-of-town to write a book. I’m jealous. I want to write books too. I want to go away by myself.”
And I shook my head and laughed.
Without a partner in crime, with no margaritas or a pool to lounge by with a friend, with ALL work and looming deadlines…getting away is highly OVER-RATED.
Work and vacation aren’t good friends.
And MOMMY GUILT is a horrible companion!
