Mommy Guilt...Why?

I'm sitting at my desk, editing a gorgeous senior session and praying that a) I have a cold and not allergies (I am so not ready to deal with non-stop allergies) and b) That said cold will be gone by tomorrow since I have P's fieldtrip to attend, when I hear the melodic sound of the boys' laughter coming from the back yard. And I immediately feel guilty. Guilty that I'm working and not playing with them. But why? It's obvious that they don't need me to entertain them 24/7 by the sound of laughter filling my ears. Today's society, however, has become one of instant gratification. Kids don't know how to just be bored, how to entertain themselves using their imagination. Our boys, who watch limited TV and play very little video games, are guilty of this as well. Sometimes I wonder if it's my fault. Since Day 1 of P's life, I've kept him busy, exploring things, going places and being surrounded by people. E hasn't fallen into that pattern as easily because of different circumstances but the boys and I still lead a busy life. When I was a kid my brother and I were allowed to watch 1/2 hour of TV a day (except Saturday cartoons) and video games were a luxury. We played outside pretty much from sun up to sun down without our parents watching our every move. We knew where we could go and what we were not allowed to do. I have countless childhood memories filled with fun times with friends. Although we were a tightknit family and my parents made our childhood fun, I remember so much more with my friends than my parents. That's because my parents didn't feel the need to entertain us all the time. So I need to stop feeling guilty and just enjoy hearing the boys play together, using their imaginations and just being brothers. Generation after generation before us has let kids be kids, without adults constantly entertaining them, and they've turned out just fine. So now it's time to put away the mommy guilt and do the same. Then maybe, just maybe, they'll grow up appreciating their childhood as much as I did.