Guilt Trips from Future Self

For so long, Donovan’s and my schedules have clashed so ferociously that “family time”, outings to anywhere, even short family walks (it was always dark when he got home) have been heartbreakingly few and far between. So, it actually came as a relief when his job at Netflix ended, albeit rather abruptly. We now have weekends together… and late afternoons…. We can DO stuff!

Of course, there are drawbacks to this, too. He’s always there… saying things. Or, not saying things. I can’t stay home from work and watch Grey’s Anatomy for hours on end anymore, which is really frustrating. I have to stop at the store and pick things up on my way home. My apologies, however, as I digress. This post is about rejoicing in the time that we can now spend as a family…. and rejoice I shall!

I harbor a lot of misappropriated personal guilt. It’s not “I’ve done something and now I feel bad” guilt, it’s “future guilt”. I feel guilty for the fact that my future self will have guilt because she will feel like she could’ve made Rowan’s early life better, gone on more family adventures, saved more crayon drawings and paintings (though I save them all, she will probably frame them), and would’ve taught her better about the world around her. I know. This whole future guilt thing is barking mad. Regardless, I find myself bordering on insane sometimes about getting out and doing stuff, so that I can assuage my future self’s guilt. And, of course, there’s always the fact that going out and doing stuff is fun! And Rowan loves it, which is all that really matters.

Donovan’s opinion of all this madness is unflattering. He thinks I’m crazy and also possibly in a state of permanent PMS, which he realizes you’re never supposed to say, but he says it anyway because he thinks it’s funny, which it is not. And yes, admittedly, I do get a slightly frantic, from time to time, and have a hard time being okay with staying in and relaxing for a day. There’s certainly a time and a place for that, too. I know this, but my future self is always nagging at me to “create memories”. Good ones. And most of the time, “Future Heidi”, who is a much better mother than I am, wins.

Portland in the springtime is incredibly gorgeous. And while it’s not currently spring, we’ve been having some remarkably spring-like weather. Warm, partly sunny, but with a lot of wet. Last weekend, despite inconvenient bouts of pouring rain, we decided to go for a hike in Forest Park, which, incidentally, is one of the largest municipal parks in the country, with over 5100 acres of natural forest land.

Rowan was pretty excited because we packed snacks for her in her backpack, and she got to wear her pretty new sweater and her adventure hat… all of which put together on her tiny little body ended up being pretty stinkin’ cute.

Then, off to the park…

She was in awe of the park, spurring even more guilt, as I thought to myself “Why should she be so in awe? It’s like she’s never seen a park before!” Which of course she has, and I was being crazy again.

It was actually pretty rainy, and before long, we had gotten pretty wet so I went ahead and pulled out my umbrella. Portlanders, as a rule, aren’t supposed to use umbrellas. There’s no quicker way to pick the transplants from a crowd than to survey umbrella usage. Nonetheless, I spend a lot of time, every day, straightening my two and half feet of hair, thus, dampness is not my friend. In fact, it’s my enemy. So, yes, I do use an umbrella from time to time — sue me. The problem with this particular case, was the there was no way Rowan was going to submit to being carried under the umbrella or walk close enough to me that the cover would do her any good. I figured her hat was good enough protection. It’s not like it was a torrential down-pour, just a gentle, off-and-on, spring-like shower. Nice, really. I kept imagining dirty looks from other hikers though — “Look at that lady, selfish… using an umbrella and letting her kid get soaked.” “Shocking.” I know. Bringing the crazy back again. But, that’s what I would have thought, if I’d seen someone like me using an umbrella while the kid ran around in the rain. I put the umbrella away as soon as possible. Hair be damned.

We walked on the path, along which ran what is usually a stream, but on this day had turned into a rather terrifying, and loud, river. Rowan was fine with the river as long as we were on the path, and kept shouting “River! Look at the river, Mama!” (I love it when she shouts stuff like that… She’s so tiny that most people think she’s a lot younger than she is, and thusly marvel at how this one year old is running along-side a river and shouting stuff at her mom.) Then, we had to walk over a bridge, under which the river roared and the water churned and our feet slipped and slid a bit on the wet boards. Rowan was not a fan of this and wanted to be carried for a bit.

And of course, no trip to the park is complete without sitting down for a delicious snack.

So there, future self, how’dya like them apples? We had a great day and will keep on having them, until you come along and take over, at which point you can feel guilty because I did such an awesome job.