Mom Guilt, Be Gone!

Thirty years into my parenting career, I still have almost daily attacks of "Mom guilt."  Each year I manage to forfeit the Mother of the Year award --as though it was ever within my grasp.

Back when the kids were small and I was still somewhat in control,  I used to fancy myself a maternal version of Ranger Bill, Warrior of the Woodlands *, braving all sorts of natural and human disasters, raising seven children "All in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done!"

The pathetic truth is that I am simply the world's okayest mom, nothing more.  Although the kids have turned out just fine, I don't feel either proud or particularly satisfied with my efforts of childrearing.  Instead I think of a million and one things I might have done better.

Now that my youngest child is quickly approaching the magic age of eighteen, I have occasional moments of leisure to ponder all that I mighta / coulda / oughta/ shoulda done for and with Debbie and the other "little ones" that I never could manage to accomplish.

My memories of Guatemala days in the 90's, back when we only had four children, are in sharp focus.  I distinctly remember all the things I taught Christopher and Timmy in our little Xela duplex out in the country, systematically instructing them at our little table, reading good literature snuggled on the bed together, and finger painting and cleaning up messes the younger siblings were forbidden to make.

One vivid memory includes mixing up some "tree paint" that was to attract moths at dusk.  I recall putting the baby (Hannah) to bed and going out with three  barefoot boys to examine the results of our little science experiment.  Timmy, in particular, had been enamored with creepy crawlies for all of his five years, and I loved witnessing the awe and expectation on his face as he carried the butterfly net out to the tree.  Mikey, with his lack of the /f/ sound, was in his own world, hunting for "wire whys" and Chris was coloring in the data on a little chart.

When Bekah, Jonny, and Debbie were those same ages, about 3, 5, and 6 1/2,  I was in coping mode, fully focused on home schooling the 10 1/2, 13, 15, and 16 1/2-year olds.  Who could blame me for skipping a few art and science projects with the little ones?  Yet here I sit all these years later, wallowing in guilt for things left undone.

All I can think to do is to include the no-longer-little ones in some preschool activities when we get to babysit my granddaughters this summer.  It won't undo the past, but it might alleviate some of my mom guilt if we paint the trees with moth food and read picture books together and make a few messes.  (What do you say, kids?  Hannah, want to join us?)

For sure we will listen to some episodes of Ranger Bill together this summer, even without taking any epic road trips across America.  I am sure the younger four were deprived of several hundred hours of Ranger Bill that the older ones got to hear.  Mom Guilt, be gone!

You can check them out, too, at https://archive.org/details/OTRR_Ranger_Bill_Singles

* "Ranger Bill, Warrior of the Woodland, struggling against extreme odds, traveling dangerous trails, fighting the many enemies of nature. This is the job of the guardian of the forest, Ranger Bill. Pouring rain, freezing cold, blistering heat, snows, floods, bears, rattlesnakes, mountain lions. Yes, all this in exchange for the satisfaction and pride of a job well done." That was the opening of Ranger Bill, a Christian radio adventure serial produced under the auspices of the Moody Broadcasting Network and the Moody Bible Institute.