Mom Guilt

“Mom doesn’t cook anymore.” My daughter said that to her grandmother. Mom asked Catrin what she wanted for dinner, asked what I usually cook for her, and that was her answer. “Mom guilt” never takes a break.

I quit my job when my first son was born. I wanted to be at home for him. I didn’t want to miss all of his “firsts:” first step, first word, first day of school. I got to be there for all of it, and I loved it! It was so fun I continued being a “stay-at-home-mom” for sixteen years. But I still found plenty to feel guilty about. I didn’t keep a spotless house. I didn’t brush the kids’ teeth enough. I didn’t volunteer in my kids’ classes. And I didn’t finish up my college degree.

Three of my sons have autism. Now there’s a source of Mom Guilt! Fifty years ago experts blamed moms for causing Autism. We were called “Refrigerator Moms,” because we were so emotionally cold to our children. But it wasn’t true. Eventually the experts figured out that Autism was a neurological issue, and that no amount of maternal warmth could cure it. I promised myself that my boys would grow up knowing they were loved more than anything. I scoured the internet for reliable information, lobbied for Special Education support, and tried every half-reasonable treatment suggestion for my boys. As our family planned the move from Washington State to Utah, I emailed ahead to the schools so the staff would be ready for our kids. And yet…Mom Guilt left me wishing I could have done more. I should have bought a service dog sooner. I wish I knew how to channel their OCD behaviors into more useful activities. I really wish I had more time to spend with my oldest son, the one without autism: he really needed time to be himself, not just the big brother.

There came a time when I had to get a job. I was blessed to be hired at an elementary school so my hours matched those of my children. I never wanted my kids to be home without an adult. I wanted them to know I cared about them enough to be there for them. Even so, I missed my baby’s first day of school. Guilt! I got home two hours after they did. Guilt! I finally gave in and bought them all house keys. Guilt! There was no end to what I could feel bad about.

Now I’m in school. I love it! I am learning so many new things, and finding out I’m not so bad at it, either. It is great helping people find their “voice” on paper, and seeing them start to enjoy written composition. But I don’t cook anymore. There are some days when I don’t get home until after 8:00 p.m. It was one of those days that my daughter said those words to my mother, the ones that fed the Mom Guilt.

I am so sick of Mom Guilt! I want to just shake it off, like those first beautiful snowflakes that fall from the autumn sky. I want to stomp it into the ground, drown it in the shimmery mirror-puddles on the sidewalk. I want it to fly away with the migrating birds, but not come back in the spring.

Moms like me want to give everything to their children, do everything for them. I wanted their lives to be carefree. I wanted to stop every bully, prevent every disappointment, and “email ahead” so the world would know how wonderful my kids were. But life doesn’t let you do that, no matter how hard you try.

I’m not sure, though, that I would change how anything worked out. Frustration and failure are necessary for true success and joy. My children are intelligent, healthy and happy. They are learning to work out their own problems.

And they still love me, even though I don’t cook anymore. I’ve got it good.