When I was six years old my mom had to have one of her kidneys removed because of cancer. Too young to realize the gravity of the situation, I was heartbroken when my dad left me with a neighbor I didn’t know well. I was so upset my dad even commented on it in a letter he wrote his sister back then.
Vividly, I remember crying alone in an unfamiliar bedroom.
This memory of this trauma has never left me. As a parent I’ve never spent more than 24 hours away from either of of my children. I’m a homebody. A perfect day for me is some work in the a.m., followed by an evening spent at home with my husband and children.
When I do go out for a rare evening with girlfriends I feel some guilt. Parental guilt… it’s a thing. I’ve gotten better as they’ve gotten older. I realize it’s good for them and me.
This afternoon I’m heading to the 3-day show Motor City Nightmares. For two nights and three days I’ll be away from my little people and I’m feeling excited, anxious, grateful and full of guilt. What if I miss something? What if they need me? I’m so thankful to have a husband that supports me in my creative endeavors.
I’m a mess of emotions… such is the nature of being a mother I suppose.