"All mothers are working mothers."

I have a little magnet stuck on my fridge door that says: "Richly blessed is the heart of the child that has a stay-home Mom."

Clearly, the irony of this sentiment was completely lost on my own mum when she bought it for me, and I allow myself a wry smile every time I read it.  But that's a whole other blog best left unwritten.

I have a theory that every woman is born with a dormant guilt gene, which then springs into life when she becomes either a mother or a Catholic (or in some cases, both).  As my Spanish-Irish Grandad was excommunicated by the Catholic church when I was a toddler, I didn't have to worry about being struck down by that particular guilt-poisoned arrow.  However, any void from that has been more that filled by becoming a mum, and even more so now that I'm a - dun-dun-duuuuuun! - working mum.

Up until a year ago I was a stay-home mum myself, having given up working full-time just before my first child was born, and I didn't return to work until the beginning of this year, after 12 years and two more children.  And I must admit that I revelled in being at home full-time.

I knew I was in a very privileged position, I was always thankful, and I never took it for granted.  It allowed me to be at home for my kids, but it also gave me the freedom to run my church's Toddler Group two mornings per week, and to help out at my kids' school three times a week teaching remedial maths to 7th graders.  Plus, my house was always clean and tidy, instead of looking as if someone had rolled a hand-grenade in here and shut the door behind them.

In January this year I was offered a part-time job by a friend of mine who owns her family-run business down in the village where I now live.  Initially, I was to be working in the office three mornings a week, job-sharing with the very nice lady who's done all the company accounting and administration for the past 7 or 8 years, but who now wanted to drastically cut her hours.  However, after 6 weeks, the very nice lady decided she want her cut her hours even further down to nothing at all, and so my part-time job became full-time.

Of course, I could have turned the job down.  However, the idea of being able to contribute to the household finances (and having "my own money" again!) was very attractive.  I also could have said "No" to running the office full-time when the very nice lady decided to leave me to it, but that pesky guilt gene kicked in again and I genuinely didn't want to let my friend down. 

Once the shock subsided, I got myself (and the rest of the family, kicking and screaming) into a shiny new routine.  And everything was going swimmingly until my daughter caught the first of a series of nasty tummy bugs and had to be sent home from school... 

I am so thankful for everything I have, and I know that I am very, very lucky.  I am blessed to have my family, my friends (especially my wonderful Mrs B who helps me with childcare during the school holidays), my home, my job, and the extra money it brings in.  But the guilt... Ugh!

So I'm stuck at home again today because my little girl is sick.  Again.  Gunk coming out of every orifice.  Very unpleasant for all concerned, and not least of all the kids' poor bathroom...

Almost as painful as seeing my little darling suffering, though, is the sheer agony of the terrible guilt I feel from having been *this close* to sending her to school this morning. 

Thankfully, common sense and my responsibility to my daughter (as well as my responsibilities to other parents and school staff) kicked in as quickly as that blisteringly dumbass idea had, and I went into full-frenzied Nursie mode.  I'm thoroughly ashamed that I even considered sending her to school.  What in the name of Jango was I thinking??

As I sit here writing this blog, and keeping one very close eye on my precious little patient as she sleeps fitfully on the sofa, I promise I am doing my very best not to think about all the invoices, the bank recs, the expenses receipts, the weekly expenditure report, and the month-end statements that are currently in my To Do tray on my desk.  And the purchase ledger updates.  Oh, and then there's that VAT return that needs to be submitted by the end of next week... 

Guilt, thy name is Adie.  And you suck pink Twinkies.