Guilt. It's What I'm Good At.

And I'm not talking about giving guilt.  (As usual, that's another post altogether.)  I'm talking about feeling guilt.

I know that everyone feels guilty about some things, some times, but I always feel guilty about something.  Usually my inability to be June Cleaver, Angelina Jolie and Wonder Woman all wrapped up in one.  Heck, I even feel guilty when I leave my family to go shopping.  To buy food.  At the commissary.  For my family.

This weekend is a fine example.

I'm SO excited about going to SpouseBUZZ Live in Hampton Roads, butthe guilt is getting to me.  I'm not brave like AirForceWife, so I'veasked my mother to watch the kids while I make the four hour, two nighttrek.  What if they wear her out?  What if someone gets hurt?  What ifthey're awful?  What if they lose power?  What if Tropical Storm Hannaturns into a huge, evil hurricane and I get stuck in Virginia Beach foran extra three days?    What if someone needs to go get my grandparentsout of South Carolina and my mom is the only person who can do it andmy sister can't watch the kids and I bring them with me and we getstuck in a hotel room in Virginia Beach for an extra three days?

You can see how this logic can go on for a long, long time.

Plus, this is only the first weekend that I'm abandoning them thisfall.  There are three more, unless my mother quits before then.  Whatkind of mother leaves their children for four weekends in one season,with their father TDY, to do something that she enjoys?  I should behome, doing laundry, cooking dinner, being a MOM.  And my poor husband,knowing that I'm galavanting all over the country instead of keepingour lives together back home.  I'm sure that isn't a happy feeling forhim.  (Smart and kind man that he is, he'll deny this.)

Guilt, guilt, and more guilt.

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