A Mother’s Tale of Regret

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I am wracked with guilt. I was too busy to celebrate Mother’s Day. Despite my kids’ plans for a Castle Island outing this afternoon and my husband’s plans for dinner out tonight, I respectfully declined their offers and secluded myself in my downstairs family room, seated at the computer, forcing myself to complete overdue evaluations for work. I am a bad mother – I didn’t want to celebrate my status as the matriarch. Instead, I put work ahead of pleasure and “adulted”.

I was honest.  I admitted to being exhausted to the bone and, looking ahead to another stressful week, I needed to get this work done. But now tormented by my lack of engagement, does progress on these evaulations feel better than spending the day with my family would have felt?  I guess I will never know since the opportunity has passed and the evaluations are not finished, a testament to failure on every level.

I am lucky. I have my family close by, for the most part, and they are a supportive, wonderful presence. So, in a way, everyday is Mother’s Day. How many people can say that they get a hug and a kiss from their grandchildren daily? -that is, when I get home from work on time.  The window of opportunity is small and their bedtime routine is rightfully sacred. So once again, I sacrifice the time that should matter most.

I am a cautionary tale.  Regrets are like a cancer and in many cases, there’s no “do over”. Fortunately, I have an understanding and forgiving family. Dinner reservations can be changed and there’s always next week for Castle Island. But life is short, and as Ferris Bueller once said, it “moves pretty fast”.  Grandchildren grow up and, with that growth, the love stays the same but the kisses and hugs will be fewer. “Adulting” will turn into “elderly-ing”, when there are no guarantees. Health diminishes and the mind fails. How awful!

I am sorry for being a “bad mother” who did not celebrate “Mother’s Day”.  I propose a “do over”. And I promise to come.

 

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