One Bad Mother

I've heard countless times that when your baby can't be consoled and you feel as if you're at the end of your rope, the smart thing to do is to just lie your baby in his crib and walk away for a few minutes. You know, to keep yourself from losing all sanity and throwing your baby (or yourself) out the window. Well, today (I think) was the first time I've had to do that with Asher. And I had to do it three times, with each time feeling like an even worse mother.

I know it's the best thing to do - it keeps mommy from doing bad things when her blood pressure is at explosive levels and it gives baby a break from hearing mommy retardedly shriek, "What's wrong with you? Tell me! I'm not a mind reader, for cryin' out loud!" (Duh. I guess parenting really doesn't always bring out my strongest or brightest side.) Maybe it's just me, but I get a horrible sense of failure when I can't comfort my baby. I know, I know - sometimes babies just cry to cry or they cry for some problem we can't fix - but it doesn't make me, Ms. Control Freak, feel any better. When Asher cries, I ought to be able to pick him up and magically make him feel like the happiest baby in all of the land. This should occur not only because of my superior baby wrangling skills, but also because he loves me so much and my mere presence makes everything all better. (HA.) And when I can't, when I pick him up and he flails his arms and legs and claws me with his fingernails that I just freakin' clipped a week ago and he screams in my ear and gives me the stink eye, I can't help but take it personally. And three times in one afternoon? Talk about a horrible slap in the face of my ego.

One thing I'm learning from Asher: It really isn't all about me. Not anymore. Now it's all about him. Who would have thought??

Babies. Hmph.