Mommy Guilt

Alright, so even though my mom hasn’t quite finished the office/craft room yet, {ahem, Mom!} I decided to let her take a break and go to the zoo Thursday with the kids.  And of course Anthony and I went, too.  Had we not, C may have hog-tied her to an animal’s cage or a picnic table or something and she may not have returned.  Then who knows where C might have ended up.  He might have ended up in the monkey’s cage.  That’s truly where he belongs. 

I always tell people, it takes one of us to take care of C and one of us for the other four.  That is NOT an exaggeration, folks!  He is the equivalent of multiple, wild children!

Anyway, when we returned to my grandpa’s house afterwards, I learned that my cousins were planning to take their little ones to the splash park downtown the next morning. 

As fun as that sounded, I just wasn’t sure I was up for getting everyone ready that early {ok, so 10:00 isn’t super early but…} after an already long day I’d just had at the zoo. 

I told them I would think about it. 

And so I did……… and decided that I just couldn’t do it. 

Instead, my mom called me that morning {she’s staying at my grandpa’s} and told me that if I wasn’t going to take the kids to the park, I needed to get ready and go get a pedicure with her and my aunt… mom’s treat.

Now THAT sounded like fun!  Maybe I should go for one every six years instead of every 20.  What do you think? 

Mind you, I don’t treat myself to anything very often.  First of all, we don’t have the funds for me to do so, but on the rare occasion that Anthony insists I take a small amount to buy myself some clothes or something I’m in desperate need of, I always end up coming home from that shopping trip with one of two thing….

1- NOTHING!  Because I’m too afraid that we’ll need the money for a bill or something and I’ll regret my purchase later. 

2- Clothes for K!  She is the only one of my kids that doesn’t have someone that gives her hand-me-downs.  The others have sisters and/or cousins and friends that pass things down to them.  It seems that K is always in need of pants or shoes.  So, I buy those instead of something for me. 

This helps keep the Mommy-Guilt away.  I never regret that purchase.  If I buy something for me, it’s inevitable that I will feel guilty about it upon leaving the store. 

Now, back to the pedicure!  Just as my feet started soaking, it hit me!

I shouldn’t be here!  I should have taken the kids to the park.  They’d be having so much fun right now!  Their cousins are having fun without them.  What am I doing here? 

I tried to ignore the nagging voice in my head but it wouldn’t go away.  I think the voice spoke louder as the woman giving me the pedi pulled out that scary little razor thing that she was going to use on my heels!  Run!  Get out of here!  You really ought to be with your kids… at the park! 

Yeah, I might have freaked out a little at the thought of that razor scraping off the thick, dead skin that has become my heels. 

And no, I did NOT allow her to use it.  Instead, she was permitted only to use the pumice stone.  Ok, so she had to work a little harder to scrape all the yuckies off but she did a fine job.  And my heels are almost real heels again!  They’re not the rough sided pieces of velcro they once were. 

Thank you nice lady at the beauty salon!  I’m sorry I freaked out at you.  Razors are scary!

And then my feet bathed in a plastic bag full of hot wax… still guilty.  But it felt nice!

  

Anyway, the guilt didn’t go away even as they painted my nails a sparkly, glittery shade of blue {which Anthony was appalled at… BYU, yuck!}.

 

For the record, we have no problem with BYU… we’re just Utah fans!  Go UTES!!  But they didn’t have a glittery, sparkly shade of red... I looked. 

Once I got home, the guilt set in even further.  Just knowing my kids were here, not having fun at a park was hard. 

I know it’s good to treat myself once in a while.  I just can’t seem to get the guilt to subside.  Tell me I’m not alone in this! 

That’s going to be one of my new goals.  Treat myself more often, stress a little less.  After all, a happy Momma means for happy kids, right?  Or so I’m told. 

Please note that all 10 toes are present and accounted for!!