Safe, Clothed, Fed and Loved

A frustrating breastfeeding session led me to exclaim in frustration, "JUST EAT!" to my adorable and innocent rosy-cheeked babe. His bottom lip immediately popped out and big crocodile tears streamed from his big, brown eyes. That is the moment I realized he is growing up and actually responding to emotional triggers around him. Thus causing an incredible guilt to wash over me, once again. I have only felt this intense "Mommy Guilt" once or twice... a day... for the past nine months. Maybe I pushed his nap so I could finish shopping or had to give him a bottle because I had a couple of tequilas while hanging out with Sean after Jay went to bed, but that guilt just never seems to leave me alone.

In life, its okay not to be perfect. So where does "Mommy Guilt" come from?

I have a job that I work hard at. I want to be as good as I can be for the babies and their families. But at the end of the day, I know I'm not perfect and if I tried my best, I feel great and like I have accomplished something worthwhile.

While playing sports, an instrument or even a board game, I try my best to win. I try not to cheat. But at the end of the day, I don't care if I lose or am not the best in the room. At least I tried.

So why is it that for the task that I spend the most time doing; being a mom, I put the most pressure on myself? No one can be perfect all the time, so it is literally impossible to be perfect at parenthood. Yet, that is the expectation I hold for myself. I know I am not alone. Most parents expect not only to be their best, but also their spouse to be as well. And lets be honest, no matter how perfect we are, our child will still at one point or another; throw a temper tantrum (age 3), tell us he hates us (age 13) and try his hardest not to turn into us (age 23). Its human nature, right?

As parenting is not only the most difficult and time-consuming task of our lives, maybe we should remember to cut ourselves a little slack now and again. I try not to judge other people too much. However, it must be noted that I'm genetically a Green, so I can't avoid it entirely. When Sean and I see parents doing "trashy" things like letting their kids eat ice cream for breakfast in the car with no seat belts on or letting their kids run rampant, holding scissors, with the parents sporadically screaming obscenities at them in public, we look at each other and say, "we are going to do JUST FINE."

Some days I will clean the house, dress up my freshly bathed child, read to him, snuggle him, take him to story hour at the library, feed him organic, home-made baby food, and send him to bed with a lullaby sung completely in tune. (Okay, the in-tune lullaby isn't a possibility, but some people can do that.)

Other days, maybe I can let go a little and just be satisfied that my child is safe, clothed, fed, and loved.

Jay sound asleep on his sled.