So I missed my son’s Veterans’ Day reception this week.
In fact, I’m writing this right after I got a text from a friend with video of the event. The sweetest little voices singing the sweetest little patriotic songs arranged in the sweetest little line across the stage. And me, definitely not there.
I’m disappointed–and not just a little bit misty–to report that that is indeed and very much NOT the case.
So today, even though I’ve been to countless other “things” with my son, and separate events with my daughters, I carry that old friend with me again.
The Mom Guilt.
See, the thing is, we are tied to our kids by invisible strings not only of love, but also of responsibility, whether real or perceived. It manifests usually with these three words: “I should be [fill in the blank].” And even though I am nearly certain my son will not remember the day when I missed his Veterans’ Day reception, the dutiful, must-do-it-all mom in me will not forget.
In fact, I believe they’re grading us by how we make them feel. Day in, day out. Our worth, our value, to them, is added up from all the times that we are there and make it count. All the love that we give when we do show up.
That’s the space where I’m deciding to live, knowing full well that it–and I–am enough.