Mommy guilt

It’s been nearly a year since Brandon began daycare. I thought the guilt would subside by now. Maybe I think about it less, since I have the stresses of work occupying part of my mind, but the guilt is still there; lurking in a dark corner of my mind, comfortable and not planning to leave any time soon.

It was different in the 80s and 90s, when I was growing up. Most moms stayed home with their kids. I don’t remember women even being asked what their profession was – it was understood that if they had kids, they stayed home. Thirty years has passed from when I was born and times have changed. But my mind is nostalgic. It remembers my own childhood and thinks that is the way childhoods should be.

I work 40 hours a week and Brandon is in daycare 45. That means at least half of his waking hours are at daycare. I can’t feel good about that. He is learning things – he is learning what they teach him at daycare. But his attitude, the part that I’m supposed to shape, it’s not the best. He is grouchy and needy and whiny. And I know that every hour that I’m not with him I’m not helping him at all.

Did you know children’s personalities are shaped by age 5? That means I only have four years left to right my wrongs. But I haven’t quit my job. I still work 40 hours a week. I don’t know what our answer is. I don’t know if Brandon or I would like spending every waking moment together until he goes to school. I don’t know if that would replace current stresses with different ones. I don’t know a lot of things. I just know that Mommy Guilt is an ugly creature, lurking inside of me. I want to get it out.