Sometimes A lot of times I feel I am the self appointed ‘worrier’ of the family. It’s funny how, when I look back, I see that ever since I had a baby, I have spent atleast 62% (if not more) of my time worrying about one thing or the other. Another 20% can be accounted for by sleepless nights. Then there’s the 14.75 % for guilt and the remaining 3.25% is reserved for the joys of motherhood.
I am assuming that’s the case with most mothers. And if it’s not, I don’t want to know because that will only make this lop-sided ratio even more lop-sided. At this time, I cannot afford to allot more than 62% to the Department of Worrying!
As of now all I care about is the 14.75% being wasted on Guilt. Since I cannot do anything about the worry (that’s the side-effect of mommyhood) or the sleeplessness (mother nature just made me that way), I figured I might as well work on the guilt. Especially with it being so very irrational and annoying. Not that I am a very rational person. But this is too much even by my standards! For example, the other day, long long ago, Mr. M had had a long day at work and was very tired when he got home. Minime wanted him to read her a story. But, he said no. She came to me next. I was cleaning the kitchen and I was dead tired too. Afterall, I had been working all day. Granted that I was doing menial household stuff but that doesn’t make it any less tiring. And to top it off, I am the one whose day starts at 5 a.m. So, I said no too and then spent the next two or so hours tossing and turning. If you notice (coz I just did) I am feeling guilty right now for having said no to Minime two months ago and hence this whole post trying to justify what I did. On the other hand, a few minutes after the whole ‘no-no’ episode, what do I see? Minime is fast asleep, as if she couldn’t care less about the story. And her dear daddy is snoring away to glory. This was in less than five minutes. And here I was almost in tears from the guilt. I went and checked on her atleast 3-4 times through the rest of the night. I imagined her sobbing with her face buried in her big stuffed doggie (she does that sometimes…I am not a psycho, I swear!). I imagined her talking herself to sleep. I imagined her every possible way except fast asleep.
And now, I am convinced beyond doubt that the guilt comes with the territory too. I am stuck and for life!