Mom guilt. Literally the entire reason I started this blog. As a resource that other OK moms out there can refer to when they are hiding in their bathroom eating chocolate and drinking coffee. You know, just so they can escape their children for more than two minutes. Yes, they may be sticking their fat little hands under the crack of the door and yelling your name, because the need you to pick up the blankie they dropped, but you don’t have to respond because you are “taking a shower.”
I actually did this on Mother’s Day and it was delightful. I sat in the bathroom at 7:30 am, ate an entire bag of brownie brittle and drank my coffee with the shower running. Best. Day. Ever.
As you all know, I am pregnant. Like super pregnant. The kind of pregnant that has people saying “bless your heart” when I tell them I still have five weeks to go.
I’ve got swollen feet that only fit in flip-flops. My mood swings are off the charts. Fast food is a main diet staple, along with orange juice and Honey Buns. I could possibly stop mid-sentence and grip onto a piece of furniture because those surprise Braxton Hicks contractions have just started popping up. Or get a big old jab from a baby elbow in the ribs that takes my breath away.
I can honestly say I’m at the point where I just don’t give a sh*t about much of anything. You do you; I will sit in this chair with my feet propped up and eat all these doughnuts. Yes, I’m listening, I just don’t care that much. I have a child the size of a melon inside of me at the moment.
And you know what, that child is going to have to come out of my body at some point in the next five weeks or less. That is terrifying. I’m hoping all you other moms out there remember this feeling.
So let’s get to the nitty gritty. There are a lot of new things going on that have caused me insurmountable amounts of mom guilt. I know they shouldn’t ― hopefully ― but my hormone levels are high and just about anything can make me cry.
I typed this list as quickly as possible. Just let it all out.
- I have not bought ONE SINGLE ITEM for Baby Simon, who will be here in five weeks or less. Poor kid doesn’t even have a nursery in the works. He has no new clothes. No diapers. No pacifiers that I can actually find. There is a tote of Henry’s old clothes in the basement that I need to wash and go through. If this kid comes early, he might be rocking a diaper from the hospital and one of those generic white hats for his ride home. Then sleeping in a box or dresser drawer. I now understand why I never got anything new as the second child.
- I have subjected Henry to all my pregnancy cravings. We cannot drive past Dairy Queen without him screaming for ice cream. He has a new love for donuts and tells me that is what he wants for breakfast every morning. He used to ask for eggs and strawberries. Oops. You can’t blame him though!
- My hormones have been crazy. I have gotten a short temper with Henry more than a few times lately. He was running naked covered in dirt around the house the other night and I was trying to get him into the bathtub. I yelled, “You get your dirty little body in this tub right now if you ever want to see the light of day again!” to him. It was then I realized I am slowly but surely morphing into my mom.
- Henry’s third birthday party is in two days. I sent out an evite about five days ago. I have ordered a cake. That’s it. I haven’t even bought the poor kid a present yet. His first birthday was a freaking extravaganza and they have definitely gone down in quality since then.
- I took him to the park the other day and I was so hot and miserable that I made him leave after 15 minutes. Worst mom ever. But my feet were swollen and he kept going down the slide backward and upside down and getting stuck. Then he would yell “MOMMA HELP!” and I would have to wedge him from the slide. It was exhausting.
- The iPad and Netflix have become the best babysitter ever.
- Henry does not understand that in a few weeks his whole life is about to change. We are bringing another baby home and he will have to share the attention. Have I prepared him enough? Does he know that I still love him just as much? He isn’t old enough to really understand. He honestly thinks he has a baby in his belly, too. I just want to give him so many hugs and kisses before Baby Simon gets here and snuggle with him on the couch. But I can’t get him to sit still long enough to have a conversation. Or when he is sitting still he is normally sitting on my head.
Ahhh, good old mom guilt. No matter how much we rock life and parenting, we still worry that not paying crazy amounts of money to send our child to private trumpet lessons at the age of 2 will put them at a disadvantage when they apply for college. Just sit back, relax, and eat another doughnut. Your child will turn out great! We turned out OK, right?
For more, visit my blog at HashtagMomFail.com!