I promised myself that I was going to be kinder to myself this time around.
And I am.
I really am.
Soo much kinder.
But, nonetheless, there's always the guilt.
This 'mother guilt' that is a staple item in our Mummy wardrobes.
I figure, biologically, it keeps us accountable -this guilt - and therefore it serves a purpose.
You know, stops Mumma bears from simply abandoning her cubs or certain women from leaving their children in the car park at the casino... for too long anyway.
My beautiful bub slept pretty spectacularly last night.
(I won't record the details here for fear of retribution or hate mail from sleep deprived Mamas.)
I feel guilty that I have a newborn and managed a decent snooze.
Or I would have if I didn't keep checking on her and marveling that she was still slumbering!
I know an element of that guilt is grounded in the fact that I'm not breastfeeding the lovely Missi.
(Formula and sleep do seem to have an interesting relationship - no matter what the literature might say.)
Then because I just wasn't feeling quite guilty enough today, I took the plunge, made the call - and upped Magoo from one day of a pre-kindy & daycare combo to two days each week.
The. boy. is. bored.
Even when I can drive again, his little social butterfly wings will be clipped by his baby sister's needs.
He's one excited little man at the prospect of seeing his 'kindy friends' twice a week.
I'm here crying into my sesame snaps (thank you for these by the way, Erin!) because I feel guilty.
Guilty that I'm not giving Magoo enough stimulation here at home, guilty that I've chosen an easy option to 'entertain' him - you know, instead of standing on my head, cartwheeling and pulling craft activities out of my butt every five minutes.
Guilty because I looked forward to maternity leave so I could have this extra time with Magoo.
Guilty because the baby is three weeks old and I've hand balled the poor little guy already.
Guilt, glorious guilt.
What are you feeling like the world's worst mother about today?
(P.S. NOT actually the world's worst mother, for the record. I have NEVER done the casino car park thing.)
(P.P.S. Thank you JJ for some lovely playground therapy / comforting guilt sharing this afternoon!)