Oh God, Here We Go Again...

I can't believe that Baby Max is now approaching three months. Everyday I'm grateful that I've been blessed with such a beautiful, healthy baby. Second to these feelings of gratitude, I feel what perhaps most other mamas feel too: guilt.

As I type this, my boy is in the room next door, crying his face off. Literally. And I'm here, cowering, separated only by drywall and feeling absolutely guilty. He's just eaten; he's got a fresh diaper on his tush; but, goshdarnit, he just doesn't want to go for his afternoon "noo-noo" or nap as we call them at Chez Weatharro. We're trying to teach him how to self-soothe and after speaking to so many other moms, letting him cry (a bit) is effective. (Granted, I don't let him go on forever and always will attend to him if the crying intensifies.)

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. I thought it was bad when I was pregnant, but now, it's reaching its zenith.

I feel guilty for taking that extra 20 minutes stretching outside after a run while The B tries to placate a hungry Max;

I feel guilty for taking that extra run down a ski hill when I know Baby Max is waiting for me down below and on the verge of a mini-meltdown in the chalet;

And I feel guilty for eating that extra bit of chocolate and less vegetables when I know Max is still "eating" what I'm eating.

Guilt, be gone I say.

I justify some of my morsels of extra "me time" as ways that make me happy and content. A happy mom is a happy baby. I've heard this phrase time and time again and for me, it's true. After those few extra minutes of stretching and collecting my thoughts following a great, fast run, I'm ready to face the firestorm of dirty, poo poo diapers, hourly feedings (especially when he's in a growth spurt) and meltdowns over afternoon noo noos.

Still, I can't help it sometimes. I think parents are hardwired to feel guilt.

Sometimes, I also feel plain guilty for leaving Max in the very capable hands of my gym's babysitters to go on a fast, treadmill run. However, as Kristina Pinto writes in the Life & Times column of the March issue of Runner's World, she runs to "get away from home for an hour,"and if she gets injured and is unable to run, "the whole family pays."

I know myself. I need my hobbies; my activities to keep me sane. I've had to reduce the time I've spent on them (which is a given with a new baby) but that's okay, at least I get to still do them.

A happy mother is a happy baby.

I have to tell myself that over and over, many times on my runs.

Again, guilt, be gone I say.