Mommy guilt is bad enough. You feel guilty for working outside the home. You feel guilty when you don't work outside the home. You feel guilty, period.
Today is one of those guilty days. I pulled out of the driveway this morning, watching two sad faces stare at me from behind the door. That's after 10 minutes of kids clinging to me, crying and asking why I have to go to work and can't we just have a family day.
I should be grateful on one level that they stay home five days a week with their father. Today is not one of them. Today, I wish for nothing but "normalcy."
Today, I hear the frustrations of a coffee-less husband who's already tense from the fussing at breakfast. Apparently the toddler's sense of "food" and ours didn't mesh.
Today, I hear the frustrations through the phone when the larger cloth diapers I'd bought on craigslist leaked and he had to change diapers and clothes and wash the carpet.
Today, I hear the disappointment in my husband's voice when he talks about how the interview he'd pinned his hopes on last week hasn't materialized into anything and that the hundreds of applications he's placed over the last year have meant nothing. Calls and e-mails go unreturned. Job fairs feel like cattle calls worse than American Idol. And all that results is a loss of time.
Today, I don't have any answers or words that can help. So I'm looking for a few good prayers.