shadeshaman's picture

mmmm hmmmmm

I woke up this morning to one kid and two cats on my bed with me. My bladder woke me up, as usual, but rather than letting that determine my morning, rather than luxuriating in anxiety, as usual, rather than rushing the cat out the door before he pees in the kitchen, or starting brekkie, I used the bathroom, and came back to bed and enjoyed the company. Cat purring, kid snoring, I started to read a Sherlock Holmes book that I downloaded on to my new, bells and whistles fancy-pants sm*rt phone.

I Don't Know Why She Does It by Paige Rien

"Some mothers work because they have to -- others for their own fulfillment." And there it was -- it might has well come in the form of a back-handed slap. Somehow because I am sensitive about my fulfillment -- that it's private and not for outside commentary, I felt like this sentence filleted me and left me for dead. I am overly sensitive for sure -- but on this topic, my sensitivity is off the charts. When pressed, do I have to work? Couldn't we downsize or live more frugally on my husband's income? Yes. Is my own fulfillment an appropriate reason to leave my son? Is that really the only purpose of my work? Somehow "my own fulfillment," sounded about as reasonable for a mother as a heroin addiction.

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