{"id":3983,"date":"2011-08-26T00:00:00","date_gmt":"1970-01-01T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3983"},"modified":"2014-04-21T17:54:41","modified_gmt":"2014-04-22T00:54:41","slug":"the-guilt-gene","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lesliedinaberg.com\/wordpress\/?p=3983","title":{"rendered":"The guilt gene"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Image by Stuart Miles, Freedigitalphotos.net<\/p><\/div>\n

G-U-I-L-T should really be a four-letter word.<\/p>\n

Years ago, when I was in full-blown rebellious teenage daughter mode, I jotted this quote down from Katherine Lee: “If there’s anything that can match the heights of mother-love, it’s the depths of mother-guilt.”<\/p>\n

Boy is that ever true.<\/p>\n

I was raised on a diet of guilt. Sure, it was well seasoned with humor (which I must add, so I won’t feel too guilty when my mom reads this), but guilt is so deeply embedded into my DNA that I feel guilty not having mastered guilt yet.<\/p>\n

I’ve spent most of my life making important decisions based on the avoidance of future guilt. If I don’t finish the laundry tonight then my son will have to wear dingy underwear tomorrow. What if he gets in a car accident because he has dingy underwear? Does the dentist really know if I skip one night of flossing? If I watch “The Next Food Network Star<\/a>” tonight instead of “Desperate Housewives<\/a>” will I be personally responsible for the end of scripted television? What if I skip that one school board meeting and they vote to cut out recess? It never seems to end.<\/p>\n

Some days it feels like my whole life has been one, big, guilty, mental dress rehearsal for all of the bad things that might happen if I don’t do all the good things I’m supposed to.<\/p>\n

Yet, despite so many years of good girl-dom, good wife-dom and good daughter-dom tangled with all the woulda coulda shoulda catastrophes in my head, I am still surprised by how entwined guilt is with being a mom.<\/p>\n

It’s not even noon yet and already the ugly wheels of self- recrimination are grinding against each other in my head. When I dropped off Koss at school, I felt guilty for driving my big fat carbon footprint car (but I can’t afford a Leaf or a Volt, so I feel guilty for not working more to make more money). Then I felt guilty paying $4 for a latte when I had perfectly good coffee at home. But I hadn’t gotten up early enough to make the coffee, another thing that made me feel guilty.<\/p>\n

Plus it was Beach Day so I made sure Koss had sunscreen, a towel and his own sandwich in case he didn’t like the ones the other mothers made, but I wasn’t driving on the field trip and wasn’t even going to come to the beach until after lunch because I had to finish writing a story first, which of course, I felt guilty about. Then there’s the fact that I didn’t sign up in time to bring the sandwiches he likes, not to mention all the baking I haven’t done for all the parties and events in these last four years of school.<\/p>\n

It’s enough to make you drown in guilt.<\/p>\n

Erma Bombeck once called guilt “the gift that keeps on giving.” She was so right. I used to blame it all on my mom, who has an amazing ability to shoot guilt darts with the slightest change in the tone of her voice. Of course I feel guilty about blaming her, especially now that I realize that she couldn’t help it.<\/p>\n

I’d blame my husband, but he doesn’t care. Whoever said, “men feel guilty about nothing and women feel guilty about everything” clearly spent some time with him.<\/p>\n

I finished the story but left dishes in the sink and beds unmade in order make it to the beach before the party was over.<\/p>\n

The minute my son saw me he gave me a huge grin and a hug. All that rushing and hustling was worth it after all.<\/p>\n

Then he hit me with the stinger: “Finally you’re here, mom. What took you so long?”<\/p>\n

I couldn’t have said it better myself.<\/p>\n

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t respond to Leslie@LeslieDinaberg.com. But you should at least go read more columns at www.LeslieDinaberg.com. \u00a0Originally published in the\u00a0Santa Barbara Daily Sound\u00a0<\/a>on August 26, 2011.<\/h6>\n

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