doing it wrong

There seems to be a curse on the thinking mamas.  When it comes to motherhood, everyone I know (self included) endures waves of indecision, regret, self-doubt.

It would seem that we all believe ourselves to be doing it wrong.  Worse, I think we might just imagine that our sisters are magically doing it right.

Whatever “it” is. (discipline, sleep routines, dinnertime …)

And whatever “right” means.  (effortlessly, patiently, attractively …)

What is the seduction in the angsting?  Like, if we go back to work we worry that we are terrible mothers.  But if we stay home, we worry that we are terrible mothers.

So often a trawl through the literature will find arguments for and against just about anything:

So what’s a gal to do?  Momma Geeks … there is such a thing as overthinking.  There is power in trusting yourself, in honouring intuition and in tuning into that wee inner voice.  The one that comes from your gut.

In order to hear this in amongst the busy-ness and action of a family, find the thing that gives you quiet.  I cherish my weekly yoga class, and I go for a stroller-walk when I can, concentrating on my breath and footsteps on the asphalt (and on avoiding the oncoming trucks from the nearby quarry).  I know mamas who meditate, run, play music, read.  You gotta do the thing that gives you joy, peace, calm.

There is also great value in knowing which other voices to trust: I trust mine (usually) and I am lucky enough to have in my life other folks whose baby-views and family-thoughts matter.  Pals.  Mentors.

You know who you are.  And I thank you.