Mommy Guilt

In the last 10 years that I've been a mom, the biggest annoyance I've found isn't with kids that argue- although that IS annoying; it isn't with finding the curdled milk sippy cups stuffed under the couch that I had told my preschooler to put in the sink...a week ago- though, that IS disgusting; it isn't even with the constant battle over messy rooms.

No. The biggest annoyance? Mommy guilt.

Its like a fly that won't leave you alone.

“You should take your kids to the park!”

Bzz.

“You should be spending more time with your kids!”

Bzzz.

“Your kids should have nicer clothes!”

Bzzzz.

“You should be breastfeeding!”

BZZZZ!!!

Now, usually these statements that go through my mind are followed by the tiniest, most pitiful of whimpers in defense of my actions, and they usually all stem from me trying to do something for myself or something out of my control:

“But its raining.”

“But you're trying to eat, sleep, clean, etc.”

“But you can't afford it.”

“But your boobs were getting ripped off by that little creature and you look SO much nicer with a set.”

The problem is that they're merely whimpers and its difficult to hear whimpers over loud, blaring THX surround sound volume.

Its a bit pathetic, actually. Personally, deep down, I know I deserve a medal just for keeping them alive. I mean, if you knew me, you'd understand- I don't have a green thumb. Mine is black. Plants only come to me if they're looking for a way to die. I've tried growing plants from seeds- they die. I thought that my problem was that I didn't know how to nurture them into mature, strong, independent plants, so I bought plants that were already mature, strong, and independent. All that did was prove that I know how to take away the will to live from plants of all ages. In fact, I'm pretty sure I saw one plant take its own life when it realized who was taking it home, because it was slumped over the stake in its pot (describing the type of plant it was) as if it was trying to drive it through its heart. That one was brown by the time we reached my house.

All that to say, I'm doing a pretty awesome job of just keeping 3 kids alive and thriving, so I shouldn't feel bad when things don't go EXACTLY according to my wacked out fairy tale idea of mommyhood, right?

So, I'll TAKE that shower so I'm not stinky and dirty looking! I can wrestle 5 minutes to myself. I washed my hair last week anyways.

I'll eat that sandwich- heck, I'll eat it at the table sitting down! Ok, that's pushing it. The counter maybe. I'll eat it AT the counter. A half a sandwich. Ok, a piece of bread! I'll eat that piece of bread without fear of neglecting my kids!

And I won't worry about the breastfeeding, bottle feeding battle!  If I choose to breastfeed, well, God gave me 2 boobs for a reason, right?  Isn't one of them supposed to be a spare?  And if I choose to bottle feed then I will accept the consequences of possible BPA poisoning and psychological damages that stem from not having a mommy who gave him her boobs to give him life.


Oh, who am I kidding?

I WILL win the Mommy of the Year award!

Um, can you send it to the tired, dirty looking, boobless, anorexic gal rocking back and forth in the corner? Yeah, that's me.