can't win for trying

Tonight, Liam and Max went with me to run a couple of errands before we picked up Henry. I made some crack along the way about being their favorite person in the world (for turning their backseat movie on, I think), whereupon they informed me that I am not, in fact, their favorite person. That honor goes to their father. "I like Dad better than you," Liam solemnly informed me, "because he spends more time with us and does more things with us. You are always working."

And then my little peacemaker, Max, chimed in: "Maybe you can still be Henry's favorite person, though."

And you know what? It's true. This summer, I have been working a lot. Too much, really. And since Mike (who is a fantastic parent and totally deserving of the boys' adoration) is home during the day, and so are Liam and Max, they have been spending a lot of time together. They go to swimming lessons, shop for groceries, work in the garden, all sorts of things. And my time is, as it has been for some time, in the afternoon/evening. I'm the one who eats dinner with them, does evening activities with them, tells them their bedtime stories. But I guess it's no big surprise to me that it's not enough for them. They only know that Loni is the one taking them to the water park, not me -- they're not thinking that I'm putting in a few extra hours to pay for that trip.

I don't get hit with the working mom guilt as often as some of my friends do, I think. Still, it stings a bit. But then I remember that I also grew up with a working mom, and I may have complained about it (Sorry, Mom!) but it didn't take me long into adulthood (if it even took that long) to see the gift she was giving us by doing it. Not just the part where she provided for our family, though that shouldn't be underrated, but the part where she showed us, every single day, that women's work isn't only in the house. So I guess there's hope that my boys will see it that way one day too, and that I will get to share the co-favorite-person mantle with Mike.