Today was the kick off for the new year of MOPS, Mothers of PreSchoolers, in our area. I truly enjoy this group and get a lot out of the programs and just the fellowship with other moms.
I saw many moms with "new" babies. The were so small and sweet. The mom's looked so completely in love and excited to have their babies, to hold them, cuddle them, change their clothes. I wonder if I even remotely appeared to feel that way with Baby Pie. I know I did with Bug.
Baby Pie will be 11 months old at the end of this week. I'm looking back on this last year and am feeling guilty. Pie was unexpected and as I've said before rocked my world. I love her dearly and would do anything for her, but I remember feeling resentful of her presence in my world. I don't know that I've spent the amount of time doting on her as I did with Bug. I've had the time to do it, but she also wasn't very receptive to cuddling, rocking and lullabies. I know I haven't read to her even a tenth as much as I read to Bug, but again, she's not receptive to sitting on a lap or on her own and hearing more than a page or two.
I knew how to parent Bug. I am lost trying to parent Pie and I feel horrible about it. I found myself confessing today to another mom that I want to put her in daycare 1-2 days a week so I can have a break from her and she can have a break from me and be around other kiddos her age. The disbelieving look I got from the other mom was disconcerting. I found I needed to justify, justify, justify what I was THINKING about doing. It's not like I was thinking about putting her by the side of the road for a few hours a day a couple of days a week for a break. That would make me a bad mom.
Anyway, I took lunch to hubby and cried a bit when I told him what was bothering me. My dream would be that he stops at the store on the way home and gets me a cheapo boquet. However, reality is that he'll come home to Pie waking up and Bug unhappily managing homework and leftovers for dinner and he'll tell me how sucky his day was. He'll ask about my feelings and pick up and carry Pie around, but all will be brushed aside soon enough as he returns to the blow by blow of his day and plans for studying this evening. There is nothing wrong with reality. It's how we communicate. It's part of how our relationship works. However, I can dream. I can dream of boquets on bad days. I can dream.
I hate mommy guilt. Babies are different. Children are different. Parenting, thus, has to be different and aimed at each individual.