The “I should be doing something” guilt.
So this morning I was sitting on the couch with my daughter while she watched Waffle on CBeebies (as per the parenting handbook), and I felt that familiar creeping sensation…
Guilt.
That weird, irrational voice that goes:
“How dare you sit there.”
“You should be engaging.”
“You should be cleaning.”
“You should be meal prepping.”
“You should be stimulating your child’s development and the cat.”
“And also… why aren’t you doing literally everything at once?”
I don’t know if it’s because my wife is at work and I feel like I have to be in constant motion while she is, or if I’ve secretly developed Impostor Syndrome: Stay-At-Home Dad Edition™.
Does anyone else feel this? Or is it just me silently judging myself from the corner of the room?
And don’t even get me started on the days I don’t have Elsie. A day to myself should feel relaxing… instead it feels illegal. I’m convinced murderers feel less guilt than I do when I sit down with a coffee and no toddler nearby.
Another classic: floor play.
I’m 32. I am not built for prolonged wooden train operations anymore. My knees pop, my back makes noises it shouldn’t, and yet—when I dare to sit on the couch for one minute and she asks me to play and I say, “In a minute” or “Daddy’s just having a break”…
Instant emotional damage.
Especially because she doesn’t have siblings (at the time of writing this, anyway — check back later). So it’s like, great, now I’m not just tired, I’m also a monster.
Don’t get me wrong — I love it. The trains (which I mostly turn into F1 tracks), the doll houses, throwing her in the air (calm down, I mostly catch her)… but it’s tiring. And when there’s something on your mind you need to do, it’s hard to fully switch off and play tea parties like your brain isn’t screaming a to-do list at you.
(That could be the ‘tism speaking. That’s what my wife and I call my ASD — grounding it with humour so it doesn’t feel so heavy. No hate, just coping.)
Anyway. Rant over.
I hope I’m not alone in this. And if I am… well. That’s uncomfortable information I’ll simply ignore and carry on anyway.
Right. Back to Waffle. Again.
