I've heard it said that "Catholic guilt" is as bad as it comes, but let me tell ya, Catholics- they got nothin' on me.I find things to feel guilty about in all areas of life. Religion and house keeping keep me pretty riddled on a constant basis, but five years ago I entered a whole new realm of "mom guilt". It's always something. Either I missed a night brushing his teeth or a let him eat Kraft Macaroni and Cheese twice in one week.
A couple of months ago Thomas started talking. ALL THE TIME. Seriously, the kid can talk a blue streak and then keep going. I never realized how exhausting it is just to listen to someone. My head aches every night by the time he finally nods off to sleep and peace falls over the house like a sweet, soft blanket. And so I feel guilty.Guilty because I should love to listen to my boy. He is my world. Thing is, right now my world has too much talking going on. Car rides are a exercise in metal control and patience. I just want to scream "Shut Up! For the love of Pete, stop talking! I can't hear myself think!" (By the way, the 'hear myself think' part I got from my own mother).
It was really only a matter of time. I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it through this phase without losing it and today I did. I was cleaning out my pantry, crouched in the crawl space under the stairs, sweating like a pig, trying to organize the cake mixes and Jell-O. Thom was sitting behind me on a bag of flour talk, talk, talking away. And as if it wasn't hot enough in there, Finnigan was panting his hot dog breath over my shoulder assuming that if he looked at me long enough, I'd give him a treat from the shelf. Thom kept asking questions and telling me to look at this or that. I tried to turn around to see what he wanted and I bumped my head hard on the ceiling. I snapped. I yelled at them both to "Get out! Get out! Get out! and don't talk to me until I say!" Thom said, "I just wanted to help you Mom."Guilt. Guilt. Guilt and shame. So what do I always do when things aren't right in my world? Go shopping. My idea was to take Thom to get Pizza with friends (a lowly make-up gesture) and then stop by to get some jewelry supplies I need for an Etsy order. We did all that, but I also found this.
I know that someday, this boy of mine won't want to talk to me at all. I'll be very sad when that day comes. And guilty, because I complained and yelled when all he wanted was for me to listen.