Chink in my armor

I found myself sitting in the waiting area of a pediatrician's office this morning. A man with his two young children sat across from me. A mind has a way of running away with itself at times. This was one of those times for mine. I found myself wondering and thinking things I had no business whatsoever to think and wonder. All of these questions and suppositions revolved around one question. Why was he there and not his wife? There are all sorts of possible answers to this question.

Perhaps his wife is very ill, and not able to bring her children to their check-ups. Perhaps he is a student, and his wife works to put him through school. Perhaps he is divorced and has custody, perhaps he is a widower. All these possibilities passed through my mind rather quickly. What I chose to dwell on with a thrill of what I think was something very like jealousy, was that he was here, in this doctor's office, looking rather frazzled, and out of breath, his children with uncombed hair and mismatched shoes, while their mother was not. Was she, I wondered with a pang, sitting somewhere behind an important desk, in a well-pressed, dry-clean only wool suit, heels and and nylons?

"Free," was the word that flashed unbidden and inevitable across my vision.

I have spent the better part of my day oscillating between feeling guilty for being jealous (let alone being nosy and judgmental), and trying to figure out why this was such a knee-jerk reaction. I love my children. I KNOW they need ME. I am devoted to them and I am grateful I can be home with them.

I wish I did not want to be somewhere more important (not likely), more glamorous (assuredly), and better-paying (most definitely) than right here, in a home that I love with three amazing, delightful, demanding and sometimes devilish children. For whatever reason, I have been struggling with these feelings more and more lately. The dear Professor is sympathetic, but unable to offer me any substantial help. In my most irrational moments, he is the enemy (these moments are extremely fleeting) keeping me prisoner.

The problem comes down to this: I am a vain woman. I crave admiration. I crave praise. Domestic pursuits are sadly lacking in these two ingredients, which in the overall scheme of things could probably be likened to powdered sugar on the list of essential ingredients for a well-balanced, healthy diet.

It isn't easy to be a woman. Even in sheltered Happy Valley.