Mommy Guilt.

I haz it.

Yesterday I was stuck in a “meeting” when the phone call came. Daycare called. They left a message and then called the hubster. By the time I heard the message and called back, he was already on his way to get E. Poor kiddo had an upset stomach.

The hubster called after he got him. I asked how he was and he said his teacher told him that E was walking around saying that his soccer ball hurt. He had on a soccer t-shirt that day with the ball right on his belly. Hearing that broke my heart. I should have been there. But I have to work.

E wasn’t allowed to go to school today (daycare rules) so the hubster and I were trying to figure out what we were going to do. I had to be at work this morning for opening day and he had a lunch meeting. I hated that we were trying to work out a shuffle and that I just couldn’t be there.

E was feeling pretty good (really no symptoms of an actual stomach bug) and wanted to go to the park. He was having a blast. He went up and down the slide all by myself multiple times and was so proud of himself.

Then it happened.

We saw him swatting at something and then the scream. The blood curdling scream. I ran over to him and scooped him up. He was inconsolable and holding his hand. At first, we couldn’t see anything. I took him to the bathroom to run it under cold water. He showed me his boo-boo and it was a little mark.

Thankfully, another mom came over and offered a band-aid and a lolli. Both of which E gratefully excepted.

For the rest of the night, if you even mentioned the boo-boo or looked at it, E would start crying and want you to hold him. And I didn’t mind the extra snuggles.

These are the moments that give me a major case of mommy guilt. I know it’s irrational guilt. But it’s still there.

And I hear it only gets worse.


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