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We are two working mothers — Lauren Rose, the director of business development for Name Bubbles, and Betsy DeMars, the assistant managing editor at The Saratogian. Try as we may to be really good at both, balancing motherhood and career can get pretty messy. As professionals, work schedules and mommy schedules often collide. So, we plow through, hoping at the end of the day, our kids — Lauren's 5-year-old son and Betsy's 11-year-old son and 9-year-old daughter — know how much we love them.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Trying to avoid those 'icky' feelings

When it comes to the old "fight or flight" scenario, I'm usually the fight type. But I discovered something about myself recently; apparently I'm much more of the flight type when it comes to dealing with some icky emotions.

It hit me when I dropped by church this morning to drop off my Jello Jigglers for Adventure Camp (aka vacation Bible school). I could never in words describe how amazing this week is every year at Saratoga Abundant Life Church. About 100 volunteers put together 5 days of unbelievably creative fun for the kids, and I was sick this year about my children missing it.

When we planned their month-long visit with relative in Kansas, I went through all the things we typically do in July in my mind. I wouldn't be able to take my daughter to the New York City Ballet at Saratoga Performing Arts Center. (Took my husband; it wasn't the same.) My son wouldn't be able to run track through BARC's summer program. They'd miss their annual Kids for Christ summer campout. But most of all, they'd miss Adventure Camp.

I thought I'd grieved it then, but I guess the wound was reopened this morning. When I stopped to drop off my contribution to today's snack for the kids, the place was a mob scene. The children and parents lining up outside the door of the fellowship hall were all abuzz with excitement, anticipating the fun that awaited them on the other side.

I felt my insides twisting up — and it was icky. It felt like a gaping hole in my gut — part missing my kids and part missing out on the action.

So, I did what was necessary to feel better — I got in my car and drove away, vowing to avoid even driving by for the rest of the week. Super mature, I know. Also super impossible — I have to be there tomorrow night for a meeting. I'm going to have to get over it, I guess. I might have to swallow hard a few times while I'm there, but it'll be OK.



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