It can strike at any time.
At the park.
At the dinner table.
In the shower.
This time it happened at the grocery store.
At first, everything is fine.
I go about my usual routine–nothing out of the ordinary, just a regular day.
And then it happens.
Almost out of nowhere,
I become overwhelmed–but not in the good way.
My body becomes flooded with panic–panic that I am messing up at this whole Momma-hood job.
My heart beats faster, my arm pits tingle {yes, this happens when I get anxious}, and the room feels like it’s 100 degrees.
A million things that I am surely failing at begin to race through my mind.
He doesn’t eat a balanced enough diet.
He should be sleeping in his own bed.
I should have weaned him from a bottle by now.
I’m not reading to him enough.
Am I getting him enough social interaction?
Do I have enough patience with him?
Oh man, he’s not on a waiting list for one of those popular
pre-schools–should he be?
Does he play outside enough?
Is he watching too much TV?
The list goes on.
And for some reason, I convince myself that every other Momma I know has got it all figured out.
That I am the only one making mistakes every day.
The only one who is near certain that I will blame myself for every mistake my son will ever make.
And then I force myself to take a deep breath,
I finish buying my groceries,
take a look at my son smiling back at me,
and I force the moment of panic to pass me by.
Because this is Momma-hood:
Always worrying that you’re not doing enough,
that your kids failures will be your own,
that you’re messing up.
And then you take a deep breath {which we Momma’s don’t do enough}, and you remind yourself that Momma-hood is MOSTLY:
Hugs and kisses.
Miracles and milestones.
And moments like these.
