I used to make dinner for my husband and kids before I left the house anytime I had evening plans. I made sure everyone had eaten a full meal, had brushed and flossed and pottied, and was on the way to bed with the next day’s outfit folded on the dresser before I would dare sneak out the back door. That was my way of coping with the guilt of leaving my family behind. I wasn’t worried that the kids wouldn’t eat. I was worried I was failing because I wasn’t the one providing the meal.
