Guilt, and the assuagement thereof

Guilt, and the assuagement thereof

Sunday, 6 February 2011

As any good Catholic will tell you, there is no end to the things to feel guilty for. As a working mum I do pretty well avoiding guilt because I know Alfie is getting daddy time, but there are still times when I ache to be at home, when I torture myself thinking that Alfie is suffering because I’m not there.

Mostly it’s at times when I get Facebook messages that start

“Just to warn you boy looks like he’s been through the wars. Scratch and a black eye today L”

Those are the moments when my ego demands that he need me and my cuddles. Those are the moments when I want to grab my bag and head straight for the car because there is nothing on earth more important than drying my son’s tears and kissing his bruises better.

I stayed at work though, and saw out a really tough week, and in a feat of unimaginably bad timing, Keith had made plans to be away today instead of being at home to soothe my aches and feed me beer.

Actually it turned out to be unimaginably good timing, because Alfie and I had an “us” day. An incredibly good “us” day.

We started off at a soft play place. Be grateful I put a filter on this photo, the colours in this place made my eyeballs blister.

Alfie’s eyes lit up when we got there, not because of the toys but because of the other children. As soon as his little feet hit the mats he motored off to the nearest toddler and they began that intricate ritual of bubble blowing and arm flapping that seems to come when toddlers meet.

An hour later he was ready for lunch, so we wondered down the road to Cafe Rouge and he hoovered salmon fishcakes before rubbing strawberry jelly into his sleepy eyes and passing out in the buggy on the way back to the car.

Normally Alfie is a one shot deal when it comes to nap time, but my little boy has had such a hard week I managed to get him to drop of three whole times. Oh yes. The third time was just my idea of heaven – we kutched up on the sofa together under a blanket, his head slowly sapping the feeling from my arm while his sweaty little hands clung onto the front of my jumper.

And that’s when the rest of the world disappeared and I found my little bit of heaven, snuggled up breathing in sweet smelling toddler hair. There is nothing that matters to me in those moments except him and me, and maybe that's enough to make up for the other moments that I miss?