One kid, then a second, and then a third jumped-tumbled off the high bus steps and gang-tackled me. After hugging them back, I walked behind the boys with my daughter, who chattered about her day.
“I have something I want to ask you about,” I began, my arm resting on her shoulder. “All of you.”
She squinted up at me through the afternoon sunlight. “Why? What?”
I started to explain what was bothering me as we kicked our shoes off by the steps to the laundry room. Standing there, with my fingers wrapped around the door frame, I felt off-balance. One time, years ago, I had shut the door on my son’s little fingers when he used the frame to maintain his balance, and since then, I’d been afraid of sticking my fingers in the space between the door’s edge and the door frame. And yet for some reason, I still did it every day anyway. Once I got my purple and bright yellow running shoes off my feet, I breathed a sigh of relief that my fingers were intact, and slammed the thick white laundry room door behind me.
I removed lunchboxes from backpacks, stacked the three backpacks in the space between the china cabinet and the dining room wall and set snacks in front of the kids. For a few minutes, everyone talked at once about their day, three overlapping voices forming the ever-shifting mosaic of our life as a family.
I leaned against the kitchen counter top, which is where I usually stand when I’m in the kitchen. Since the accident, I almost never sit down at the table. It’s become my new normal and no one thinks anything of it. When my husband isn’t around, sometimes I jump up and sit on top of the counter, right near the spice drawer, which is where I used to sit as a child. This annoys my husband. He thinks it’s going to break the counter, so it’s one of my many guilty pleasures, I guess.
“So, guys, I need to ask you something. I have this race tomorrow, but I’m thinking it’s going to take me away too long from you. That’s making me feel really bad. It seems unfair.”
“Yeah, Mom, you are gone a lot on the weekends. Why do you have to work so much?”
I sighed and looked at Maddie. “I’m writing a novel, hun. And it’s important.” I took a deep breath. Was I really gone that much? “Anyway, I would be gone, like, the entire day, from before breakfast to dinner. And so I wanted to let you decide. And whatever you decide is fine with me. I’ll honor it. If you want me home, I’ll not go to the race.”
Jim’s eyes brightened. He didn’t need to speak. I had his answer.
Then Maddie did one of her smile-shrug-hair flips, with a dozen other facial expressions thrown in for emphasis. She’s able to convey more without speaking than any other little girl I’ve met. With her voice rising to a higher pitch as she spoke, she spoke. “I want for you to do what makes you happy, Mom.”
I sighed. “No, I’m asking you what makes you happy.”
She twirled her hair. “Well, it will make you happy to run the race, won’t it? You’ve trained for it. You’d be disappointed if you didn’t run it, wouldn’t you?”
I felt like Hell. She cared about me—that was obvious. She wanted me to be happy—that was also obvious. But did she just not want me around? I tried to pull it together. “I don’t want you to miss me while I’m doing something that will make only me happy. What you want is very important to me.”
She shrugged. Her faces twisted in concentration. “You are gone a lot on the weekends. But we’re okay with Dad.”
“So you want me to be gone then?” It was a stupid thing to say, but before I could right the ship, Ben, with a bored look on his face, swung around in his chair and exclaimed, “I want you to go run it. We’ll hang out with Dad.”
That stung. I tried to inspect him, to understand his words, to find the hidden resentment, but I think he was just speaking without filter, saying what he really was thinking, which he usually does anyway. Tears were rising, but I pushed that back down.
“Am I really gone that much?”
Maddie wince-smiled, and I tried to read everything she was thinking, just as she was trying to read me.
“Okay. Maddie. Please. What do you want me to do? I want to be here and I want you to be happy. That’s job one. Be a good mom. Take care of y’all. That’s my job. What you need to concentrate on is not what makes me happy. I want to know what makes you happy, okay?”
She nodded. I could almost see the gears moving in her head.
“So, do you want me to stay home tomorrow? You have the deciding vote. And it’s perfectly okay.”
She smile-shrugged again, and twirled her hair. “It would be nice to have you around. But what about all of your training?”
I breathed. Finally. “The training is fine. There will be other races.”
“Are you sure? It’s okay if you want to run it.”
I crossed the room and opened the fridge door. As I pivoted, slamming the door shut behind me, I thought real fast. This was absurd. I was being absurd. This wasn’t really their decision. It was my decision, all the way. Even if it hurt me that Ben didn’t seem to want me home, I wasn’t going to run from my responsibility. Even if staying home meant admitting I’d been gone too much, I wasn’t going to run from this. Even if it meant facing my guilt, I could do that. I could even face my guilt for being away too much and being too busy and too absorbed in my work without turning it into a shame-making session with my past, present and future ghosts haunting me.
Because, you see, I thought to myself, I can control how the future works out with me and my children by slamming the door shut on this race, and this disengaged parenting, right here, right now. They won’t remember the Saturdays I disappeared, or at least won’t be haunted by them, if I change–if I manage to be here going-forward, most Saturdays and Sundays. I’m in charge of how our family turns out, and all I got to do is be here, and when here, actually be present. I can do all of that without sacrificing my work, and my happiness.
After guzzling half a liter of ice-cold water, I rubbed my mouth on my sleeve and then nuzzled my daughter’s head. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much. I’ll try harder.”
It took a few more passes for us to reassure one another that all was well, and then I changed the subject back to the contents of their day. And as they unpacked their day like a woman unloads the contents of her purse, I tried to sort through my feelings. Feeling guilty paralyzed me, and so I had to try to set that aside and think things through. Had I been gone too much? Maybe; maybe not. Children can be self-absorbed. So can I. I never really grew up. In some ways, I’m still a life coming into being, rather than a finished product. And the thing is, I was profoundly unhappy when I was just a stay at home mom. No offense to SAHMs (Hell, moms that don’t work get their own acronym just like some neighborhoods garner their own zip codes, so they must be doing something with all of their time, right?), but I lost my sense of self when I stopped working. 
I love being a mom. But I didn’t love being just a mom. I’m not much good at most things domestic, and I never felt comfortable with the other SAHMs. I felt like the ugly swan around them, and deep down, I knew I didn’t belong. As the days revolved and became years, I felt constrained and trapped and overwhelmed with the unchanging routine of it all. I wasn’t very good at running a household and I never wanted to be.
Which is not to say I didn’t love being home with my children. I did. And they knew I loved them. Maybe that’s why they didn’t mind when I disappeared for hours on my long runs—because when I got home, I brought my grinning self to the threshold and bestowed hugs and laughs and well-timed winks. Running made happy, and being happy made me a better mom. Within limits, running made me a better mom.
I guess it’s all about balance. I’d never quite found it. Every day I reached out and tried to hold onto something stable to find it, because I was always moving so damn fast. But as a mom, I had to be my own doorframe. I had to provide the ballast to keep the ship afloat, and to do that, I had to stand still, if only for a few moments at a time, or else I was going to run my family aground. And ships, like families, get pretty messed up when that happens.
Boy oh boy can I relate. I think so many of us can. It’s all about finding balance and as a parent we have to sacrifice for our
kids. You are a wonderful mother El and you have such a die hard spirit that you are going to pass on to your kids. You care and you are
beyond fair. I love all these things about you. I also sit on the kitchen counter…always have and always will! xoxo Ella
Aw, my friend, thank you so very much! This thing called balance is a hard thing to obtain, you know? I love being a mom . . . wish it were easier. Wish I were better at it . . . but they know I love them. And I am a work in progress. With God’s help, I’ll be okay! I’m imagining that we’re sitting on the countertop swinging our feet and chatting, dear friend. Love you.
I think this is precisely why — historically — men didn’t want a woman to get an education. It’s why they wanted women to move from their fathers’ houses to their husbands’ houses. Once we have had independence, we learn to think. We have desires. Motherhood requires women to sacrifice so many of these things. But — as you said — it is a difficult thing to do. I mean, we are not monks. If we were, we would not have children.
It’s lovely to TRY to ask your children for their input, for what they want.
But the answer really is they want you.
Don’t put your kids in the position of having to decide if you can or can’t do something.
You have to be the adult and make those choices.
Add maybe one of them will remember and be hurt. Maybe someone will feel you weren’t there. But maybe the other two will offset that and say: “What are you talking about? Mom was there for us. Duh!”
El, you are a runner. There is something inside you that compels you to compete. Lord knows, I don’t have it. But you do. And I think it is important for your children to see you chasing your joy. Even if it hurts. Even if you don’t win. Or medal. Just doing what you LOVE. What better message can you show them?
And I have heard those voices. So much love in that room.
Thank you so much my friend. This happened several months ago and I couldn’t bring myself to write about it until today (it’s part of I Run). Your note was–and is so wise (Yeah I know I shouldn’t have asked them to decide–it was kinda dumb) and so kind. You were in my mind as I was writing this, murmuring, “El, this is too long, even if you only write once a week,” lol . . . I just got tired and hit publish. Sometimes that is freeing, knowing it isn’t perfect, but you gotta let it go anyway. It’s how I feel about a lot of things lately, including this mothering thing. I do my best–try really, really hard–and then let it go. Sigh. Or something like that.
“So much love in that room”–I can’t thank you enough for writing that. It made me smile.
It wasn’t too long at all. I was dying to know what you would decide to do! I’m glad you ran. It’s who you are and what you do.
Amongst other things.
Oh no–I didn’t run! No way–not when my kids needed me–gah! Mom-guilt! Thank you so much, my friend!
Oh El, I’m hoping you ran that race and came back smiling. Because that annoying slogan is right “If Mom’s not happy, ain’t nobody happy.”
I think it is really hard for women who have worked to stay home. At work I am amazing, professional, brilliant and most of all competent. I get stuff done.
When I was at home with just one kid, my house was a mess, I was always late, I forgot to do stuff that needed doing, well, it wasn’t pretty. (My husband NEVER complained, perhaps I married Ghandi)
When I started to work, the house was cleaner, things were done properly at home and at work. Some of us just need that.
As for being with other stay at home moms, with some it was easy — we talked books, politics, kids, life. With others it was hard. We talked detergents (I’m not making that up) and kids.
You gotta do what’s right for you and your family. Unless you leave them with an axe-murder, the kids’ll be fine.
Aw Elyse, you write the best comments–always make me think and feel better! I cracked up about your account of being home with one kid, and being married to Gandhi!! LOL! And yes, I think some of us do need to get out of the damn house.
Yes, being with other moms–sigh–diapers, detergent and depression.
I also do believe the kids will be alright. Man this is a hard issue!!
We love you El…run like hell
Back atcha Lisa–and thank you for making me smile!
Oh my, what complicated beings we are, trying to find balance in everything! Go run your race(s). It is not going to damage your kids, the afternoon you described is what they are going to remember, in my opinion. Training and running is the thing that is going to motivate them to do well and follow through on things they undertake. Please remember, You are Doing Nothing Wrong, remind yourself of that before you ask them what they want. You will be fine, your family will be fine, be kind to yourself…….Hugs April
April: again, you made me feel better–thank you so much hun! I am hoping that they do learn determination and hard work from me . . . and grow up feeling more independent and yet . . . loved. How many kids do you have? You sound so steady and sane and balanced! Thank you for telling me I’m doing nothing wrong–funny how hearing that always helps a little, you know? Many hugs and much gratitude to you!! ~el
The mommy guilt never stops. I hear the accuser’s voice playing over and over in my head. I’m embarrassed to admit that guilt often dictates my day to day decisions. I am sucker. For some reason, I haven’t given myself permission to live. To fully discover life outside of my four walls. But it sounds like you’ve been able to carve out a small space for yourself. Hope I can do the same one day.
I love the phrase “the accuser’s voice playing . . .” I hear you re permission to live and I think our society really can make it hard for us to feel like we’ve received permission to wander off. I know in my case I enjoy my time inside those four walls if I can get outside them too. Have a lovely weekend!
Lovely and raw, thank you for sharing your heart, El. Have you ever if you create expectations, or put then on your kids when maybe they wouldn’t have even been worried? xoxo
Hello my friend! Yes, yes, indeed I have wondered that lol! Thank you so much for your kind words my friend! xoxo
*wondered
Winking.
Whether yesterday or months ago El, this is a hard issue and one I think as mothers we likely will always tickle the edges of. I suspect your lovely children will grow up grounded in the idea they are well loved, cherished and nurtured by your sense of fair play. I always worked, always sometimes by choice and others by necessity. I was only home for long stretches twice once by choice and the other by necessity, each drove me to distraction but each had an outcome that made me and my family stronger.
El, you are loved and you love. It is clear in every word of this and so many other of your writings. Finding balance will only make you better not worse as a parent and your children will thank you in the future. How you live your life will inspire your children. You are an inspiration to so many, how could you not be an inspiration to those who love you best.
Val: I so appreciate your kind remarks and thoughtful comments. Every time I see your face, I smile and yes, I do feel loved, just as I love you. And you’re right. As moms, we all struggle with this issue, and it’s a hard one. It took me several months to get up the nerve to face this one. I know that’s silly but it’s true! Thinking of you, my friend, with gratitude.
And I quote: “One kid, then a second, and then a third jumped-tumbled off the high bus steps and gang-tackled me.” El, kids who feel distant from their mother don’t attack her the moment they get off the bus. Kids who feel connected to, close to, and loved by their mother attack her. If your running helps you to be a better mother, then do it. You have to look after yourself in order to be able to look after them.
Laura: thank you so much. Your kind comment really sunk in when I read it, and reread it. And that makes two gifts you’ve given me today. Your blog this morning (well, I read it this morning) brought me much peace. And you’re right. The running really helps me be a better, calmer, happier mom. xo
El, it’s so hard to find that balance between being happy and making sure our kids know we will always be there for them. When I worked evenings I also got the “You’re never home” comments. In fairness, it was true and I missed many holidays that the kids spent without a parent. I think that’s why I ended up with guilt ever-whelming me.
You have the same blessings that I have in that your children love you and care about your feelings. Maybe take a race or two off, or not run in as many. Maybe compromise is in order. But even if you go back to doing what makes you happy -for you – your family is full of love and that is what they will remember most.
Ingrid: gah! I hear you. And man, those comments like “you’re never home” just sting, don’t they? Then again, sometimes necessity is what it is (it’s late so my words are coming slowly).
I’m so happy that you have the same blessings I have as far as children who love you and care about your feelings! And your advice is sound, and so very much appreciated!!
El
First, congrats for being an awesome mom. It is a hard job that takes lots of love, patience and hard work. Fun and happy beach images…with wonderful smiles. Have a great week.
Thank you so much my friend! And gosh, we had a good time at the beach and it does my heart good to see their smiling faces. You have a great week too!
I love how you use holding on to the door frame, and then come back to it at the end to illustrate your need for balance. That’s one of the hardest lessons in life to learn. Balance.