Poppins

Why do I feel guilty going to the gym while my son is at school? I suppose there is a part of me that thinks if we are paying someone to watch our son, I should be doing something constructive with my time, like earning money or writing the great American novel. I don't know why I feel guilty spending that time taking care of myself. I mean, in Upper East Side Manhattan culture, part of the deal I think with rich husbands supporting their wives is the trade off. Wives don't have to work so they can spend time working on their upkeep.... otherwise they get traded in for a younger model. I suppose the difference with me and the hub is, we're not rich, and he is too sweet to ever criticise my appearance one way or the other, so I'll never know if he thinks my butt is too big or the bags under my eyes are beginning to show.

I see these women at the gym... running on treadmills while their little guys scream bloody murder in the on-site childcare. That guilt I feel for those women is part of the reason I haven't splurged on a family membership. I couldn't imagine not spending time with the bub just so I can sweat for an hour or two. I am one of those people that (sadly) martyrs herself for her child. Rather than send the bub to the gym childcare like a reasonable housewife, I get up at 5:30 a.m. to go swim and race back home before the bub wakes up so as to not miss one second of quality time. I even feel guilty doing the stroller-mommy thing because I'd feel bad making him stroll for an hour while I exercise.

But what this means is, I have no life whatsoever. I blog. I occasionally write an article or two for the paper. I write freelance every now-and-again for my old job. Every once in a blue moon, I write creatively, but that's it. There is no time to even organize my broom closet or wash my car.

And I feel guilty about every free minute I am not doing something for or with the bub. I picture those moms who can't afford to spend time with their kids. Who have to work two jobs to make ends meet. Who the fuck am I to complain about my cushy existence? Then, whenever I start to feel like I'm losing my mind, I picture those moms with ten kids and no money who suck it up and raise their offspring with a smile... Never complaining. Never beating the living shit out of their kids. Always having dinner on the table on time. I mean, these women probably don't really exist, but somewhere in my mind I have created them as virtual role models for the kind of caretaker I want to (or feel like I should) be.

Is this unrealistic? Sure... but screw it. I'd rather make myself insane now than have some guilt in later years that I didn't do everything I could. If you haven't figured it out by now, I feel guilty about virtually everything in life. I am up at 2 a.m. most mornings worrying about something. And in order to not lose my mind, I often feel like I have to solve a problem right then and there or I will flip off the deep end and circle right down the drain. That probably comes from growing up in a dysfunctional home. Never feeling like I had control of a situation, so that now whenever I begin to lose control, I become enraged and can't deal with it.

The other weekend, we had some friends out to the farm, and I was casually telling the wife of the couple about all my child-rearing anxieties... Am I too stern? Will yelling at the bub screw him up forever? Am I going to hell if I spank him every now and then? The woman finally looked up at me and said, "Don't worry. You're not like your family." I looked at her for a second, and I just started to sob. She hit it right on the nose. Without even realising it, I was feeling guilty for thinking I was creating a childhood too like my own.

Guilt is my most unfavorite sensation, so I will go to great lengths to avoid it. In order to rationalize the occasional day that I swim at the gym while the bub sits in school, I tell myself I am using that time to brainstorm story ideas or problem solve the grocery list.

Maybe someday, I'll have some free time to just be and think about nothing at all... hopefully in about 16 years. Hey, that's not too far away when you think about it.