Kathy said around early evening on August 5, 2007

For me, and I’m almost sure I am not alone, being a mother means constantly wondering if you’re being a good mother, if you’re “doing it right”.  And it means wondering whether the fact that mothering makes you want to have a beer at the end of the day is an indication that you are doing something wrong.  I remember feeling like a complete and total failure when my non-napping baby would scream and cry in his crib and I would daydream of just leaving him there, getting in my car and driving to Nova Scotia without stopping.  Then he got older and routines were my life, but my worries then turned to constant neuroses about his food or whether he was walking or talking soon enough.

Now that Reilly is over a year and a half, things go pretty smoothly, save for the times when I beat myself up for letting him watch Diego for an hour to calm him down while I do stuff around the house.  Frankly I am sick of hearing people say that TV is the worst thing you can do to a kid.  I worry about enough, and every time I let him watch TV I become engulfed with guilt that I am destroying his little brain or that I am suddenly The Worlds Worst Mother.  There I go again wondering if I royally blow at this.  I know that I don’t.  I do all the things you’re supposed to do and I challenge him as much as I can, but I still pour that beer at the end of the day and go over in my head all the things I could have done differently and wonder if I screwed up.

Tonight, he didn’t want to go to bed.  It’s a new pattern that rears its ugly head once in a while.  He sleeps well, sleeps alone and soothes himself, naps great...but then one night he’ll have a complete fit and there I go spiraling down that mothering self doubt rabbit hole.  I enjoy being a mother despite this post.  When Reilly hugs me or laughs or says something cute I know he is going to grow up to be a wonderful kid.  I just hope that I can get through his life without constantly beating myself up for not being perfect.