I had been going around telling friends how I can’t relate to the word ‘mother’ at all. I’m a parent, and I parent my child. Not sure why but I just don’t feel like a ‘mom’. Until a friend put it simply – it’s become a gendered term that brings with it a lot of preconceived notions and expectations. That’s what I don’t relate to. I always thought of my mom as a supermom. I always wanted to be one too. Until I had my child. I actually have no interest in breaking my back and killing myself in the process of bringing up this human until I have a partner in this game. Needless to say he’s been a good partner and parent so far. I therefore am under no pressure to power through alone. It’s a shame that the word privilege goes through my mind as I write this.
This doesn’t preclude me from experiencing guilt regularly. The guilt of underperforming at work because I now have more responsibilities that need my attention. The guilt also of relying on external help to raise my child. The added guilt of thinking about that external help when there’s an out of hours work commitment. Or when I feel I am tired and would like help even if I am not at work.
I’ve taken the day off work today. I’d been saving holidays in case there was unexpected time off due to illness for K. With the year ending, I got forced into using the holiday. It’s not raining and there’s some sunshine. A dosa joint had been on my list for a long time, but had nobody willing to trek with me to Harrow for a meal. I thought today’s the perfect day. I took the tube so I didn’t have to use my mind in driving or finding a parking spot. The restaurant was quiet, as you’d expect on a weekday afternoon. I ordered a podi dosa and read an article about burnout as I waited for the food to arrive. I could hear the dosa being freshly prepared in the distance in an open kitchen. I rarely find food exceptional. This was. And there I was, enjoying my meal, thinking to myself how beautiful and rare that moment was. Bam! appeared that guilt again. Why was I out enjoying myself while the baby was at nursery? He should have been with me. Social conditioning is a bitch. I do deserve a quiet meal alone when I don’t have to think about what clients need. I struggled but partially succeeded in shaking off that feeling to enjoy my dosa as Arijit-esque music continued to play in the background.
Fuchsia 