the Mom Guilt trap

 

I have a confession. I don't buy into the fabled mom guilt thing. I just don't. Though sometimes I end up feeling guilty about not feeling guilty, but that's when the little hamster in my head gets tired and confused and usually takes a nap. But seriously, it seems like most moms are always feeling guilty about something or other. I mean, my facebook feed is full of status updates like the following:

"Looks like it's hot dogs for lunch again. Mom of the year award goes to me."
"Poor little Jimmy got a boxed birthday cake mix instead one from scratch. I'm such a bad mom."
"Sarah tripped and hit her head on the coffee table. I tried to catch her but I didn't make it in time. Sigh."
"I ended up buying all my kids Halloween costumes this year. I feel terrible that I didn't hand sew them like I normally do. I just hope they don't hold it against me when they grow up. "

Reading these kinds of status updates usually make me want bang my head on the driveway. I mean, I get it, the mommy world is full of self-righteous, know-it-alls that think that it is their heavenly assignment to call out and judge other moms whose parenting skills they deem less than perfect. And then there's the wonderful world of mommy blogs which can make you feel like every other mom in the world is dressing their kids in coordinating Gap outfits, feeding their kids only organic, non-GMO, homemade cupcakes with ingrediens that they grew in their own sustainable backyard garden, and taking their kids on magical bike rides everywhere. I understand all too well how easy it would be to fall into the mommy guilt trap. But I decided a long time ago, before I even had Shye, that I just wasn't going to do the mom guilt. I gave myself a free pass on that count and it sure has been nice.

Am I a perfect mom? Well let's see, my kid regularly goes on walks barefoot and wearing nothing but a diaper. She still drinks a bottle at night. She frequently picks food up off the floor and eats it, in public too. She has licked the unsanitized handle of practically every shopping cart shes ever been in. She hates baths and usually only gets one, maybe two per week, the rest of the time it's just a sponge bath with a baby wipe. She still ends up in our bed sometime in the early hours of the morning. She only eats one meal a day, the rest of the time it's usually just snacks. She throws the most epic fits every single week in church. She watches more movies than I really care to admit. Her hair is so wild and defiant I'm convinced that it might actually be a sentient being. She drinks water anywhere she can find it, the pool, splash pad fountains, puddles on the ground, our neighbor's lawn sprinklers.

This is Shye on a walk in our neighborhood. With no clothes on.

And you know what? I don't feel bad about a single one of those things. I refuse to apologize for any of it because I'm doing my best, as I suspect most other moms are too. Let's face it, parenthood is mostly about survival. You do what you've gotta do, no guilt necessary. Besides, for me guilt is a finite emotion. I only have so much of it. And I would rather save it for something important, like the fact that I ate an entire one pound bag of roasted almonds while writing this post. Now if you'll excuse me, I think my daughter is drinking water from the toilet with a straw.