Neglect: Part 1

I was told my job was to be there for them. To make sure they are safe, well fed and entertained, because the opposite – hurt, hungry and bored – usually leads to screaming and crying (and may also be breaking a few state laws). And if I was unavailable to fulfill these duties, then I hired a professional or a least a semi-qualified teenager without any plans on a Friday night.

But we might have hit a point (possibly a milestone to celebrate) where I am starting to question how necessary I am in their safety and amusement. I am not jumping ahead to leaving Alex and Avery at home alone with a movie and a post-it-note containing phone numbers in case of an emergency while I run kid-free to the grocery store, but just wondering if I really need to be in the same room – watching, directing and hovering – every hour of the day? And if I am not, why do I have mixed feelings of guilt (like I am am ignoring them and focusing too much time on myself by shopping at jcrew.com) and hurt (realizing they might just be dissing me in favor of their growing independence and each other’s company).

The tipping point was getting the Wii. I removed myself up front in learning anything about the gaming system; not even learning how to turn it on. My reasoning was because I already I have too much household IP and didn’t want to take any ownership (or develop any knowledge) in this area. The end result is that they think 1) I am a complete idiot when it comes to video games, 2) I have a horrible golf swing, and 3) I am useless in answering any questions related to Lego Star Wars. With that, they rely on themselves and do not come seeking me out when Anakan cannot utilize the force to win level III. And surprisingly, this is now carrying over into other aspects of the lives. TV remote. Alex is a master. Snack time. Avery can fill her own bowl with goldfish. Playtime. They are way more creative than me. Bedtime. They both know PJs are in the bottom drawer.

Andy and I both feel like we just gained an extra hour in our day (or up to seven hours on a Saturday or Sunday). I realize I should not be complaining. This is a good thing and something I dreamed of for over the past five years. Just wished someone gave me a heads up how quickly it could come, so I could have been prepared mentally and with a stack of books, a list of house project or just the ability to sit and do nothing – all of which I have putting off since the day I found out I was pregnant in 2004.