The "What if" Game

As I was scrubbing the pots from dinner last night, I was dancing around and singing along with the Dead as Shakedown Street played from the iPod. Jean was upstairs giving the kids a bath, while I cleaned up dinner. Suddenly, I thought that I should turn the music off and listen ... I thought it, but didn't do it. I stopped singing and kept doing the dishes. I thought, "Did I hear a scream? Did Jean call me? Is there a problem up there? Did one of the kids fall and hit their heads and is drowning and I am needed. Maybe I should turn off the music? No. There is no need. But what if one of your kids is up there dying and you are too selfish to turn off the music to check." And I turned off the music. There was no screaming, just splashing and laughter from upstairs.

And that it when it occurred to me. That the whole thought process that I just recounted, is one that someone without children does not have. People who don't live with children, don't have to deal with that kind of self-imposed, what if guilt.

I must have the conversation with myself twice a day. Sometimes its while I am trying to get dinner ready and the vent fan, facet, and burner is too loud, and sometimes is when I down the basement changing the laundry. I am relatively certain the kids are OK, but I am in the basement with the dryer making a racket, I am separating whites from colors. Suddenly, I have to stop and go through this thought process: "Is someone screaming? Should I go check. They are fine, just finish putting the dirty underwear in the washing machine. It will take you three seconds. Was that another scream? Yeah, remember the last time you stopped what you were doing and ran upstairs, to find out they both kids were screaming in Spanish back at Dora the Explorer. 'I need your help. Say Abra! Louder, say Abra!' How much trouble could they be in? But what if someone is unconscious?" And so it goes, until I either finish the task or abandon it to check on the kids and find them sitting comfortably yelling Abra!Abra! at Dora.