On Guilt
All mothers hear voices. Actually just one voice, as insistent as it is irksome. That would be your momologue, your internal running commentary on how it's going as a mom.
But it's never saying, "Good job, Mom! Brilliant navigation of that sibling rivalry incident! How fine and upstanding your children are! Pats on the back for that quick save of the ice cream cone!" No. These momologues are not about praise and positive reinforcement. They hector and nag. They cluck at you and fret. The voice in your head recites an endless to-do list. It whispers comparisons to everybody else's kids. It tallies up your shortcomings with the precision of the IRS. It's never satisfied. Oughta conceal more veggies in their casseroles. Oughta scrub out the bathtub every time with Clorox before I send them in it. Shoulda signed them up for after-school Chinese lessons so they can compete in the new economy. Shoulda taken more home movies last vacation. Shoulda taken more home movies all the past year. Woulda helped organize the school fundraiser, if only I had more time, inclination, and tolerance for inane meetings. Coulda found a more respectful way to nip today's bickering than, "Keep that up and I might tell Santa to cancel Christmas!" |
 
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