i'm gonna take the guy who invented guilt out back and beat the crap outta him later
Wanna help?
I went to the gym this morning after letting my husband sleep in two point five hours past the hour the children poked their shiney faces into our room. It was dark when they got up, I'll have you know. Dark and cold and dreary.
I let my husband sleep for two point five guilt free hours.
Why is it then that I, completely of my own insane doing, felt rushed at the gym. It was as though a rope, pulled tight between Wiggle Yer Butt Fitness Studio and My House, kept yanking me back. I could feel the hands of my little ones tugging at my legs, begging for more food and someone to play with.
He had his two hours, why did I feel guilty for taking mine?
Don't mistake me. My husband was not and never does do anything to make me feel like I should not go or hurry when I do. He is all fairness and pleasantry. When I call to say that my return is close at hand he does not ever (nearly) sound as though life has been hell since I left and who did I think I was going out of the house anyway.
But I still feel it, that pull, the tight feeling at my chest calling me home.
It's stupid.
After the gym I went to return some shorts (they made me look like a fat teenage boy) and planned to find something else instead. Here I am, alone, by myself, shopping. No one to stress me out with requests to get out and run around, no one demanding a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice and a sandwich prepared on fresh baked bread. I had all the time in the world (within reason) to wander aimless and find a crapload of stuff I wanted. Stuff for me.
Have you met me? I like stuff.
But I could not relax. I felt so guilty for being there. I should have been home. I should have, in fact, only done the treadmill and not the bike after because these people need me here at home.
H. O. M. E.
It's stupid.
Maybe I should give up sleep too. And eating, don't forget eating. I gave up going to the bathroom alone years ago and haven't done a single thing uninterrupted since May 2001. Why not forfeit the whole kettle of fish. By Kettle Of Fish I, of course, mean to say My Identity.
See, stupid.
So if you see the guy who thought up Mommy Guilt let me know because I'm so gonna take him out back and have at him with a good sound beating. After I'm gonna lay in bed drinking margaritas, eating chocolate, reading a book with thr TV on while I listen to my ipod and I will not be answering the many calls at the bedroom door.
Alright, I might answer one or two calls at the bedroom door but that's it.
No, I changed my mind. I'm not talking to anyone until everyone is in bed sound asleep.
Thank you. Mommy has spoken.
(no one is listening to mommy)
(again)
posted by Style Me Organized at
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
