Guilt

I don't think it's wrong for adults to go to bed a mere hour after a two year old hits the hay. In fact, I'm pretty proud that we manage to stay up until the clock strikes 8 o'clock. But when ambulance sirens can't wake us-- that's when the shame hits. What if BB was crying? Or an earthquake hit? Or those sweet elderly neighbors who I just blogged about last month had a medical emergency?

Oh wait. That actually happened.

Last week, our cool neighbor ended up in the ER, and we didn't even wake when the ambulance arrived.

Here's the guilt. I did wake up as the medical team was preparing to leave. The engine must have revved, or a door must have slammed-- and I got out of bed to peek through the blinds to see what the noise was. What I saw was a fire truck and an ambulance, and I froze. I knew I should run outside to help, but I told myself I wasn't even sure the hubbub was about our pals.

Oh the lies we tell ourselves.

This isn't a terrible story. Our neighbor is okay. But this is one of the moments I'll regret. A time when bad judgment and weak character got the better of me. Like the childhood pal I didn't invite to the wedding. Or the friend's father who came to visit from out of town, took a train 40 miles to meet BB, and who I did not drive back to his hotel. Or my roommate's unaffectionate dog who tried to nuzzle into my lap for a rare cuddle, and who I pushed away-- he had a seizure two seconds later.

I think about these moments all the time. I run through my action and inaction and I grunt a little in shame.

That's what I'm doing now. Grunting in shame.

My New Year's resolution: don't take the unaffectionate way out when it comes to other people. Even if you have to get out of bed.