Mom guilt

“Guilt to motherhood is like grapes to wine.”- Fay Weldon

I dream about a day that I
Can fulfill all my obligations under the sky
Without being interrupted frequently
By motherhood and its myriad responsibilities

I sit at my desk trying to type out
An intellectual paper, but am interrupted by a shout
From my child, who is facing a crisis with his toy
He is producing copious tears, my little boy

Adept at crisis management, I fix the issue
Engage him in a book, happy with myself too
For tearing him away from toys and towards pursuits better
But soon he stumbles upon difficult words and letters
And I am called away from my occupation to attend
To him, to help him read so that the book he comprehends
Once again, I try to plow through my task
With some desperation, quite certain he would ask
More questions, keep interrupting me
The end of my project is not something I can see
My son’s read the book, now he wants to eat
Eager to get back to work, I let him have a treat
He takes his time, savoring the not-so-healthy snack
Grateful for the silence, I work quickly, not looking back
Finally he is done, and asks me what to do
By this time I have run out of options too
So recognizing defeat and laying down in surrender
I let him get the I-pad, despising myself, no wonder
For succumbing to the easy way out with exposure to a screen
I end up letting him get what I did not mean
For him to get, but my nerves are frayed
Patience runs thin, and I am dismayed
At how little I’ve accomplished in the last two hours
I need to forego battles to win the wars..
The tightrope between career and motherhood that I navigate
Is something I’ve chosen, this is an intentional state
So laden with guilt my assignment I complete
Which already feels like achieving a feat
Then go back to being a mother as ideal as I can be
Who can engage her child in productive pursuits constantly…