Sometimes, I feel like the worst mom ever. Cerebrally, I know I’m not. I know I can’t even imagine the worst “moms” out there, much less compare myself to them. So I guess it would be more apt to say, I feel like such an inept mom.
I feel inept when my son wakes up two hours after he’s gone to bed “for the night” and proceeds to play happily until midnight.
I know that the child is the spawn of the two worst night owls on Earth, but surely I should have some control over his schedule, right? There must be some sign I’m missing, or I must be screwing up the sleep process in some way, right?!? Should I move his dinner earlier, or maybe later? Or maybe his bath time? Maybe I’m not tucking him in right, or he should be in his crib (if he’s in our bed) or in our bed (if he’s in his crib), or maybe I’m not reading the right books or saying the right prayer or doing the right routine (AND WHAT ALMOST EIGHT MONTH OLD CARES ABOUT BEDTIME ROUTINES ANYWAY?).
I feel inept when he can’t let me out of his sight for three seconds without total meltdown.
Some people may say that just shows what a bond we have and blah blah blah. It feels like I’m failing in some way, failing to make him independent or trusting to others or SOMETHING. Plus, I really miss peeing with the door closed without it making someone cry.
I feel inept every time he gets sick.
This is my favorite. I get so distraught every time he gets the sniffles because ISN’T BREATMILK SUPPOSED TO BE MADE OF MAGICAL IMMUNITY PROPERTIES THAT ARE NINJAS TO ALL STRAY GERMS?!? WHY ARE MY NINJAS SO LAZY?!? WHO HAS EVER HEARD OF LAZY NINJAS??? So then I have to berate my lazy ninjas, and stew in the fact that if I ate healthier or took my prenatal vitamins or drank the water from a magical waterfall frequented by unicorns then MY SON WOULDN’T HAVE A COLD.
And the worst, the absolute WORST is how utterly inept I feel when I JUST NEED A BREAK.
It seems simple, right? A mama’s boy with a midnight bed time – what mom WOULDN’T need a break? But I have friends who are unable to have children at all, and a friend who is watching his baby waste away from cancer, and friends who never saw their children alive at all. It feels wicked to feel so tired and worn so thin. I feel like such a pitiful whiner when I have such a beautiful, healthy baby boy who loves me so much that he doesn’t want to be apart from me and who thinks his daddy and I are so much fun that he doesn’t want to sleep through the “party”.
So, really, I guess the truth is that I feel like every other mother on the planet. Sigh… maybe he’ll sleep tonight, and maybe I’ll sleep tonight, and surely things will look better tomorrow.
And if not? Then that magical waterfall better serve margaritas also.