#paris traffic

[periodicult]

Merry Go Round/Paris Traffic, Seventeen magazine, August 1985.

[lauren-grodstein]

On the guilt

From my teensy apartment in Paris, where my husband sleeps on a "double" mattress fit for a person and a baby, or a person and a large pet, and my son sleeps on the pull out couch, and I have shuttled between them throughout the night for reasons that not even a professional somnambulist could put together, I have finally given up sleep for the illusion it is and shuttled to my desk.  There, while gazing blearily at the morning internet (all the coffee in France wouldn't do much for me this morning) I scanned a New York Times headline called: "Draft: A Writer's Mommy Guilt."  I did not click on the link.  Of all possible guilts, I think "mommy guilt" sounds the most despicable, followed two seconds behind by "writer's mommy guilt."  (I mean first of all, "mommy guilt?"  What are we, in kindergarten?  And what the hell is a "writer mommy?"  Cover your ears and close your eyes cause you know I'm going to say it: has any man in the world ever called himself a "writer DADDY?" Um, no.)  (I mean doesn't that whiff gently of porn?)

But that's actually not the problem here, or it isn't my problem.  My problem is that there are so many things I feel guilty about all the time and being a writer just cannot be one of them.  For instance: I feel guilty that I shlep my kid to Paris so I can work when I know he'd be happier with his friends at home.  I feel guilty that I let him eat too much sugar while he's here to keep him occupied and compliant.  I feel guilty that I tune him out while I'm online.  I feel guilty that he goes to sleep too late.  I feel guilty that I don't keep my promises.  I feel guilty that I make promises I can't always keep.  I feel guilty that I bought him one of those little French razor scooters, even though he loves it, because now it seems he's permanently one errant scoot away from being flattened by French traffic.

I feel guilty that he's an only child.

I feel guilty that I'm depressed around him sometimes.

I feel guilty that I let him draw at night instead of reading him award-winning children's books.

I feel guilty that I curse around him.

I feel guilty that Ben and I seriously considered letting him watch "In Bruges" to prepare him for our recent trip to Bruges.  (He's four).

But it never occurred to me until I read that headline that there's something out there called "writer mommy guilt," and it's something I might need to have or have already.  I'm sure "mommy guilt" is about how, you know, writing takes me away from my kid and I love him and love to write and balance and money and time and blah blah blah.  Sure.  Fine. 

But please don't make me feel guilty about having these two things in my life, raising my kid and raising my books?  I love them both too much.  I know I don't give one the all when I'm giving the all to the other.  I know it's impossible to be perfect at everything.  But I feel so lucky to have these two great loves in my life.  And I just refuse to feel bad for that.