Guilt, Guilt, Everywhere!

Sigh.

I tried to avoid it. I really did. I am a rational (mostly rational) person. I know there is no reason for it; i know how ridiculous it is.

But it’s true. The guilt is everywhere these days, and no matter where I try to find the humour, and usually do, it is still lingering underneath, like the ubiquitous Cheerios that litter my dining room floor.

It’s funny, really. I frequently shake my head at myself; in those lucid, post-PTSD-inducing crying fits (hers, not mine), I see how absurd it is to feel guilty about putting her down for a nap, waking her up from a nap, laying her down to change her diaper, standing her up to put her pants on, sitting her down to feed her, rolling her over to put socks on.

Even now, I am laughing at how silly it is. But it doesn’t stop that little pang when her eyes fill up with tears and her little mouth forms the pre-wail ‘o’ of torture.

I am learning to laugh and roll my eyes at it, but then I feel guilty for teaching her how to roll her eyes – because I am really just handing her another weapon, aren’t I? The one she hold onto until she’s 13, and finally use it to beat me into submission?

It’s a ride, this motherhood…..sometimes an awesome one that gives you funny tummy, and sometimes one that makes you want to get off of it immediately. But I think that’s part of the whole point, really…I mean, what else could we possibly learn from this besides some great cosmic truth about journeys and life and happiness, etc.?

I learned how to get spit-up out of everything….that’s probably more the point.