Not Much.

I ran into an old friend today (old, as in I've known her for a million years but she is very young). We were talking about the balance between motherhood and a career. We are both in pretty much the same place: we have jobs we enjoy but we're not doing what we went to college to do because we want to have families too. We were talking about the guilt we feel for not being there for our children 400% (I think we're both at 115% or so not counting laundry). We were talking about the guilt we feel for not doing what we set out to do with our educations. It's like a rock and a hard place but the rock isn't that much of a rock and the hard place is soft and cuddly. I told her that I solve some of this by being creative -- even if it is in little ways. I'm not out to get a show at the Whitney or anything but I like making stuff. I like connecting with people through the things I make by writing about it here. Then I confessed that yesterday was the first thing I had made since I finished up the Christmas presents. She asked how that felt, "Did you feel guilty for not making something for so long?" No, I said. No, I did not feel guilty. But I explained how good it did feel finally to draft a pattern and pick out some felt and cut and stitch, even just a couple of seams. I loved making a little doll jacket even though I spent less time creating it than it took me to get the doll out of the box.