I am stuck in Boston. A place that seemed so magical a few days ago but has in a sense taken me hostage. I was supposed to leave yesterday but a fire at a key control tower thAt controlled most of the flights on the East Coast and a storm in New York where we were meant to land quickly resulted in a cancelled flight, a missed connection and us stuck in Boston. All this while the domestic airline, Singapore Airline and a useless travel agent tai-chied responsibility of getting us back to Singapore.
This means I may not be home in time for the twins' birthday on Tuesday. And I can't do a damn thing about it except to feel guilty.
My guilt manifests on many levels. And all of it stem from having taken time off away from my children. On one hand, I know I had to do this. But all the guilt and missing them that had been simmering all through the trip and kept under control by a massive amount of present buying burst forth yesterday as the pilot walked off the plane and left us stranded.
Irrationally, I feel I am being punished for even daring to choose anything over my children. Hearing Evan ask me why there is a storm in 'my country' and the usually cooperative Jordan chuck a fit because she didn't want to do her writing just delivered more strokes of flagellation on my already sunburnt and painful back.
I feel that I am the worst mother in the world because I might miss their birthday and many will say that is why I should never have gone in the first place because my rightful place was beside my children rather than continents away. And for daring to leave, this is my punishment. The guilt and the fact that I might be stuck here until one of the parties sucks it up, takes responsibility and actually finds us a way home. At this point, I don't really care if it is a plane, train or automobile. I just want to get home.
So it is really true. Women really can't have it all, and I'm being damned for believing so.