For all of the guilt I heap upon myself, I should be Jewish. Or Italian. Or some sort of ethnicity. I am the Queen of Guilt. If I am sick and resting in bed, I think about the walls of laundry stacked around me, and my youngest who is downstairs watching his fourth straight episode of Backyardigans. We should be reading A Christmas Carol, or singing songs, or playing a game. I should be doing my work, or cleaning the house, making dinner - something productive. Idle hands make... what is the phrase?
But then I recall why I am still in bed at 10a. Perhaps it is because yesterday I went to the DMV (only to find it closed), shuttled children to school, went Christmas shopping for my mother-in-law's gift to my kids, visited said MIL, picked up the kids' photos, picked up a present for my husband, created and picked up the Christmas cards, stopped by Target to pick up prescriptions and a few necessities, and capped off the night with a visit to my father, who is in the hospital. And then came home and graded a few papers after tucking the children into bed. Oh, and did I mention the hours on the phone setting up doctors' appointments for said father, and calling around to six different stores to find a Pillow Pet for my oldest?
My mother had four children and did about half of that on a regular basis, but somehow she managed not to guilt herself into oblivion. If I'm working I think about what a lousy mother I am. If I'm not working, I think about how my career is in the toilet, we don't make enough money, and my husband is shouldering too much of the income burden. We rush about, trying to plug holes in the walls, but still the water comes streaming through.
There is, clearly, a better way. But I'll be darned if I can find it. I continue to do the best I can but it's not nearly good enough, and it is making me miserable. I pray and I pray but I cannot figure out where God wants me to be, what He wants me to do, and where I should focus. If I could have one Christmas wish, it would be to reintroduce focus in my life. Instead I am here, there, everywhere all at once, and nowhere at the same time. Frazzled, tired, guilty as charged.
But then I recall why I am still in bed at 10a. Perhaps it is because yesterday I went to the DMV (only to find it closed), shuttled children to school, went Christmas shopping for my mother-in-law's gift to my kids, visited said MIL, picked up the kids' photos, picked up a present for my husband, created and picked up the Christmas cards, stopped by Target to pick up prescriptions and a few necessities, and capped off the night with a visit to my father, who is in the hospital. And then came home and graded a few papers after tucking the children into bed. Oh, and did I mention the hours on the phone setting up doctors' appointments for said father, and calling around to six different stores to find a Pillow Pet for my oldest?
My mother had four children and did about half of that on a regular basis, but somehow she managed not to guilt herself into oblivion. If I'm working I think about what a lousy mother I am. If I'm not working, I think about how my career is in the toilet, we don't make enough money, and my husband is shouldering too much of the income burden. We rush about, trying to plug holes in the walls, but still the water comes streaming through.
There is, clearly, a better way. But I'll be darned if I can find it. I continue to do the best I can but it's not nearly good enough, and it is making me miserable. I pray and I pray but I cannot figure out where God wants me to be, what He wants me to do, and where I should focus. If I could have one Christmas wish, it would be to reintroduce focus in my life. Instead I am here, there, everywhere all at once, and nowhere at the same time. Frazzled, tired, guilty as charged.
