It is inevitable. If I leave town, disaster will happen. Not just little disaster, but unnecessarily BIG disaster. Disaster like croup. Lice. Vomiting. Refusal to sleep.
Isn't it enough that I have the underlying guilt associated with being a working mom? Isn't it enough that I don't sleep well when I travel and get tired of sitting in airports? No. God has other things in mind. Apparently I DID do something in my past that I must suffer for continually.
Now, with that all said, no one is suffering more than my loving husband Mike, who is home actually dealing with all of these unnatural disasters. He gets all of the glory of the doctor's visits, being the target of such vomit, and having the psychosomatic itchiness associated from our 4 yr old getting lice. He also gets credit for handling all of these things with minimal complaint.
But not I. Instead, I get the full-blown doubly compacted guilt associated with not being there to do my matronly duty of caring for my sick babies. Wonder what disasters will rear their ugly head on my next business trip next week?
Ciao
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