nothin Quality Time = Work Guilt | New Haven Independent

Quality Time = Work Guilt

I didn’t have to work last weekend. Not Saturday, not Sunday, not one day! My little girl and I spent half of Sunday at a friend’s, swimming in the pool all afternoon with two of her best friends. I didn’t wear a watch. I didn’t clock out for lunch. I tried to teach a 4‑year-old how to swim, I applied and reapplied sunscreen, and I smiled.

Later that night I felt guilty. I knew that some of my coworkers had been at work from 11 to 4, and that I hadn’t been.

Was it crazy for me to think of them? Why can’t I enjoy myself fully?

What is wrong with me?

I had a lot of time to enjoy with my little girl. I practically pushed my husband out the door to take time for himself. He had signed up for a digital recording demo class, and then finally found free time to ride his bicycle. It was freeing to see how unburdened he could become if he could be Chris first, and not someone’s dad for a minute. He was happy to ride his bike and give us girls some time to swim and play with our friends.

When we all regrouped we were relaxed and tired, not anxious and weary. It was nice. I like to imagine that I could have that every day, but I just haven’t figured out how. Yet.

As nice as the weekend off and the Sunday of swimming was, I couldn’t help but think of all the time the summer has to offer that we miss while we’re at work. During the school year, my older girl is at school for almost the entire time I am at work, so the net time missed is almost nothing. My younger girl is at school for three and a half hours each day, but starts much earlier than her sister, and I get to drop her off every day. My older one takes the bus to school at nine, so I only get to put her on the bus one day a week, if that.

It started to dawn on me that I was missing so much more of their lives during the summer. That no matter how bad I had felt about working full-time and missing them, and missing out, and failing them during the school year, that the summer just let me let them down even more. There was so much more time I was not with them, that it feels like I am doing something wrong even when doing the right thing. Made even more right now, that I have negotiated the working mostly during the week deal.

Weekends are important, but these weekdays were now filled with hours where I didn’t seem to see them at all!

I started trying to wake my little one up early, between 7 and 7:30 in the morning, so I could talk to her, get ready with her, eat breakfast with her, wave goodbye to her. It seems crazy to voluntarily wake up a 4‑year old so early during the summer, but it is no earlier than during the school year. Except that now there is no school as a reason for waking up, only me.

It feels selfish, but when so much of the school year was filled with, Mommy, please don’t leave me!” I wasn’t sure what to do.

So every morning I wake her up, to find that half the time she asks me to carry her to nap with Daddy”, and she goes back to sleep in my bed. The other half of the time she asks for breakfast with me, and we get dressed and talk. But I can’t help but wonder if this early wake-up call is helping her, me, both of us, or neither of us. Or if the inconsistency in this routine is bad for her, or unhealthy even.

I guess there is nothing quite like a mother’s guilt.

As I spent so much time with my little girl, I wondered how my older daughter was faring at camp. I’m sure she was fine, and was both curious and jealous. Some of the best times in my childhood were the weeks I spent away at Girl Scout camp. I learned archery and arts and crafts at Camp Francis in Kent, and canoeing, kayaking, and sailing at Camp Candlewood in New Milford. She was attending a camp I had only heard of peripherally, and never once visited. She was learning to cook and bake at Camp Timber Trails in Tolland, Massachusetts. I wanted to be there as a camper, a mom, or a fly on the wall. I wanted to see everything but not bother her. I wanted to be next to her and promise not to drive her crazy. I missed her! I missed the dry sense of humor, the obsession with nail painting, the eye rolling, the many pairs of shoes and reading glasses scattered all over the house, I missed everything. I missed my second self lingering around, ready to review her day with me.

Think: Bonus Day”

I would normally have gone to camp to pick her up myself, but we were going to get her a day early and I had to work on Friday. She had begged us to come back from camp a full day early, so she wouldn’t miss the wedding of two of our friends on Friday night. Chris left mid-morning to drive to Massachusetts, and had a nice drive with no traffic and a chatty little backseat driver. When they got to camp, little sister was overwhelmed to see big sister, although the camp staff said they were surprised she was being up early. My daughter said she had told them, and my husband went through the camp file to show them the additional paperwork I had filed with them to let them know. Everyone involved was annoyed, and they could not get out of there without feeling confused.

The drive back home was easy, no traffic going south, and both girls fell asleep in the backseat. They stopped by a local diner for lunch on the way home, and were very surprised to find my car in the parking lot!

I had gone out to lunch with a coworker and was overjoyed when the three of them walked in and sat to lunch with us. It was a great little coincidence, and I was really happy to see them, and break up my day.

Especially when I had just been asking my friend how he did it, going to work day after day; was I the only one who had so much trouble staying committed and collected to my job? He told me to think of every day as a bonus day.” That is, instead of looking ahead so much, or worrying about the past, to just get up and go to work today, and think of it as just one day.

Pretty great idea, I thought, and I shook my head when I started comparing it to one of the AA slogans: One Day At A Time. Maybe he was onto something.

After the nice surprise at the diner, going back to finish the rest of the day at work was easier. And the stop we made at Dunkin’ Donuts on the drive back didn’t hurt. I had gotten a DD gift card for my birthday, so I treated my friend to a drink, and we went back to work pretty happy. Since I only had three more hours before closing, and then a mad dash to get myself and the girls ready for a 6:30 wedding, I was almost thrilled.

Add to that the fact that I had another weekend off, and I was practically euphoric. Now I just had to stay upbeat and enthusiastic, and try to enjoy myself. Which is another issue entirely.


Previous installments:

GPS Punks Out; Facebook Comes Through
Psst: Look Who’s Off” On A Saturday

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