My How You've Grown

My, how time flies.  It seems like it as only yesterday that I was following Skyler's bus to McDonogh for the first day of summer camp.  The memory had not even receded in my mind, when, on the first day of summer camp last week, Skyler asked, without the slightest hint of amusement in her voice, "Mommy, you're not planning to follow the bus again, are you?" 

I tried to sound indignant at the mere suggestion that I would do such a crazy thing.  It was acceptable when she was only five years old and it was her very first time to go to summer camp, but for God's sake she is six now.  "Pfhhh,"  I snorted as I tossed my hair, "Of course not." 

Truth is, the thought did cross my mind.  But the thought was fleeting and lasted only several days.  After all, I have grown up as a parent. 

Yeah, yeah, I know, I should be gushing about the ways in which my kids have grown up, etc., but this is MY blog, and I want to gush about the ways in which I have become a more mature mommy.  Although I considered following the bus, I didn't.  In fact, I made a point of driving away from the drop-off spot and onto the main road ahead of the bus, just in case Skyler looked back.  I was not going to give her the satisfaction of thinking even for even a nanosecond that I was behind her bus.  I nearly got myself killed making a left hand turn in front of oncoming traffic so that I could be securely in front of that bus. 

Part of my fear about putting my kid on the bus for a full day of summer camp has its genesis in the guilt I feel about not being the kind of mom that keeps her kids at home, safely ensconced within the walls of our abode, busy with creative and edifying activities, spending days dotted with trips to the zoo and library and pool, fed with homemade nutritious lunches and snacks. My friend says that the guilt/angst of being a working mom really began with the industrial revolution, when people began to work away from home in factories rather than out on the field on their farms.  (Yes, I know stay-at-home (SAHM) moms have their own set of worries/fears.  But, again, this is MY blog.  I suppose it goes without saying that I love my kids more than life itself.  But I have to work for economic as well as psychological reasons.  The economic reasons are obvious.  But the psychological ones are a bit more complicated.

I was prepared to do some internet research on the "complicated psychological motivations" for electing to work outside the home when I got distracted by a child-related disaster needing my immediate attention.  I don't remember exactly what the urgent event was, but take your pick among the following representative options: (1)Jagger dumped out Skyler's neatly organized box of colored pencils for sketching fashion designs; (2) Skyler couldn't find her favorite plastic cup; (3) Jagger and Skyler climbed into the hamper which serves as their "boat" and couldn't get out.  You get the picture. 

In the midst of attending to the latest domestic catastrophe, it dawned on me that I didn't need to conduct any research.  The "complicated psychological motivation" for working outside the home can be summarized pretty succinctly:  If I stay home to take care of the kids all day, I will lose my sanity.  I'm willing to bet all the shoes in my closet that summer camp is more fun than staying home with a mother who has lost her marbles.