I come from one of those large (eight kids) 50s and 60s Irish Catholic families. My mom worked before she got married and went back to work full-time when I was in fourth grade. She is smart - she had been in the first graduating class of women from the Georgetown U. School of Foreign Service back in the early 50s, and was President of the local chapter of Mensa when I was a kid. So she rose quickly once she got back into the work force. But when we were little, mom was always at home. There was no such thing as preschool, that I know of - my first organized experience with other children was in kindergarten (and I was terrified to go!).

Fast forward 25 years - Im living in Chicago, married with twin toddlers, and working my tush off as VP of HR for a technology company. I loved my job - couldnt get enough of it - but combining the job with new motherhood and double babies was a challenge. One time, my parents were visiting from out of town, and I had to work a bit late. Not very late, as corporate schedules go - but I didnt walk in the house until about 7:15, and I felt very guilty on two counts. Number one, my parents were sitting there with my husband and the kids, waiting for dinner plans to be made. Secondly, my mom would see my crazy schedule close up and probably think What a bad mom. But actually my mom gave me a boost that evening.

As soon as I walked in the door, I hugged my parents and my husband and immediately plopped down on the floor with my twins, piling up blocks or whatever they were doing. My mom looked at that and said I never did that. What do you mean, Mom? I asked. I never got down on the floor with any of you kids, she said. There wasnt time. Your preschool equivalent was toddling along after me as I ironed clothes, grocery-shopped, scrubbed the floors and tended the garden. I thought about that. Of course! When would a housewife in the sixties (no microwave, no household help, no car at home until Dad got home from work) have time to play blocks with the babies? Id guess that the oldest preschoolers watched the baby-of-the-moment, in fact. Those were the days of playpens, now that I think about it.

Now, I still get down on the floor with my kids when I can. But I dont stress about it. There was a whole period when people stressed Quality Time over a simple quantity-of-time-together equation. But Im not even down with quality time, in the sense of putting ones total focus on the child and his needs. Kids get a lot by being with their parents, whether the activity is putting together an Adirondack chair out of the box or doing something more child-focused. Above all, I know, my kids are fine. I work a lot, then Im home a lot, and I have a ton more flexibility in terms of how to spend my time than my mom did when I was little. Full-time job and all, I have time every day to focus on each child and see whats up with him or her. Whether its on the floor or driving home from school, we can talk and catch up.

Guilt is the disease of working moms in 2006. Guilt imposed by our employers, our non-working (outside the home, that is) friends and neighbors, sometimes by our savvy button-pushing children, and often by ourselves. Give it up. Guilt never helped a child or a mom. Your kids are golden. Look at the powerful role model theyve got in their lives (Im talking about you, honey).

My moms remark about not getting down on the floor to do blocks with her children was offered in an incredulous, maybe even slightly disapproving way. Thats fine! She let me off the hook, bigtime. I realized that its WE PARENTS who stress about the childs mental state, the childs emotional health, the damage done to the child by our absence..when three seconds thought would remind us that for 100,000 years of human history, parents have not devoted their waking hours to entertaining their children. Somehow, the children survived. Ours will too.