Mon., Apr. 20, 1942

Motherhood is a strange phenomenon. Today I gave myself entirely to my children, responding to their every whim and wish. In the afternoon I gasped for breath after having chased Georgia Miss with them. Back in the house I let them ride my back, glanced in the mirror expecting to see my face aglow with heavenly love and beauty. Not so! Instead my hair was stringy, my skin parched from overexposure to sun, nails dirty and cracked, and instead of a look of beneficence I looked a hag. Neither Jim nor the children would want me as unkempt as I was and I suddenly recalled having heard a father say it was too bad children had any of the parental attentions showered upon them before the age of three and that such attentions, in many ways were a waste of time. So ideas of motherhood are in confusion. I love the children, but feel that to neglect myself too much for them is an unrecoverable waste of time. There was no time to think of Japs. News came in by carrier that Tokyo had been bombed. Maybe our end is not so near.

Jealousy of the women here is so apparent and so petty at a time like this. Some of them spend day in and day out with no other thoughts than to see that no one else gets more than they. Also some women forget that while their husbands discussed what might or might not be wise to bring, there was no man in my family to bring fresh fruits, so I brought what seemed reasonable and logical and an imposition on no one. Phooey to jealousy!

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