Neglect, of a different kind

Yesterday I decided to spend my lunch time at Old Navy in search for red Christmas tights for Leila.  As I was walking around the store BY MYSELF I was reminded of what it is like to be out of the house, not at work and also without someone attached to you.  As I roamed the store looking at all of the adorable winter clothes for girls I thought about my own girls and how fast they were growing out of their own clothes. Leila is very close to being too big to shop for in the baby girls section of the store, and to me, that feels very premature.

My kids are so cute, and interesting and funny.  I should know this, I spend a lot of time with them, as it should be.  But if I am completely honest about it, maybe just a little bit too much.  It is the classic mommy guilt conundrum.  I love my kids, I feel like I should be the one that is with them whenever possible...but that 30 minutes alone in Old Navy felt a little bit too foreign to me, if you know what I mean.  I am uncomfortable even typing this, because it doesn't seem right to me, but in the last 8 months I have attended a football game with my husband and friends and spent about 2 hours at a party with work friends, without Cory.  I am not complaining, but I guess I kind of am...can you feel my guilt seeping through the screen? :)

I miss my husband, I miss myself.  I miss a full nights sleep, and eating without having to hold anyone down or beg anyone to try their dinner.

It is not for a lack of baby sitters or opportunity that I find myself in this predicament.  I have had offers, and I almost always turn them down.  I think it is my competitive nature that keeps me running this marathon without a break...I know other mom and dads have date nights, time for each other and time for themselves, but I get some kind of sick satisfaction in going on doing everything without a break.  Kind of like the baby nursing...I don't enjoy nursing, I would adore the ability to go out and not worry about pumping, but this is what is best for my kid, and I will stick it out if it means I pump at home between feedings to make sure there is enough milk to get us through the week.

Why do I do this?  I claim competitive nature, but part of me thinks that now I have an excuse for being short with my 3 year old, or letting her watch too many cartoons.  Not reading and interacting with my 8 month old as much as I probably should.  If I took better care of myself, I might have to admit that I am just naturally not a good mother, and that thought scares me.  Even if I did get away, I would spend the whole time missing them.  One of the torturous realities of motherhood.

I wish I could be one of those fun witty bloggers with a huge following who can stay at home and collect advertiser money to pay for my life, but then I read over the gloomy crap I write and I realize, I had better keep my day job.