Guest Post from Erika: On Motherhood

The skunks came by again last night as Martin and I were enjoying a late dinner on the front porch. They really are magnificent animals, despite their stinky reputation. Those big fluffy black and white tails are as impressive as any peacock when spread to full sail. I noticed that only two babies followed mama this time, instead of the three I met last week. Probably road kill. Or coyote food. Or any number of other things. This is nature, after all. According to the University of Michigan Museum of Zoology, "up to 90% of skunks die in their first winter," and skunks in the wild only live 2-3 years, as opposed to 15 in captivity. But it made me sad anyway. That poor mama is working as hard as she can to feed those babies and keep them safe, and she lost one.

She's a single mother, too. UMMZ again: "Males are typically polygamous and solitary. Males and females do not associate beyond the few days required for fertilization. ... Male skunks provide no parental care." So she nursed those little guys for a month or two, and was just getting them used to the Big Outside World, teaching them everything she knows all by herself, and she lost one.

Ok, so maybe I'm overreacting because I just dropped Peter off for his first day at his new pre-school. He cried and clung and made me feel just awful for abandoning him, but I left anyway. And now I'm dealing with a terrible case of guilt. In my head, I know I am not a bad mother for wanting him to socialize with other kids and wanting time to myself to engage in pursuits that are more intellectual than singing "Old MacDonald" repeatedly and changing poopy diapers. And the time alone does make me a better, more patient and balanced mother. I can focus more fully on him in the time we have together when I have some time to myself first. But there is always that nagging feeling that being Peter's mother is my Job and I am slacking by pawning it off on someone else for a period of time. It feels decadent and selfish.

The women who lived in this house before me and baked pies from scratch in a wood burning oven, washed the laundry by hand and hung each piece out to dry, and kept the whole dang thing clean week after week certainly did not have someone else watching their kids while they did all this. But they probably did have some extended family to help out, unless that family was all Back East still. At the very least, I'm sure neighbors helped each other out, and I'm sure the women sat down for brief spell together during the hottest part of the day (94 degrees yesterday!), drinking iced tea while the husbands were deep inside the mountain, looking for gold, and the kids were all napping. But they didn't have a choice. Day care hadn't been invented yet.

I'm embracing the modern housewife role today. After I finish watching a giant ant crawl down my (indoor) thermometer (72 degrees at 10am!), I'm folding laundry, running the dishwasher, sweeping the house (all 8 rooms), making Thai curry for dinner, and rolling the giant garbage can all the way down the driveway for tomorrow morning's pick-up (all by myself!). I'm also going to check in with my clients and hopefully get some (paid) writing done. And after that, I'm going to pick up my one precious child from a full day at pre-school and cover him with kisses before we go play in the yard and sing Old MacDonald together.