A Moment of Panic in Momma-hood

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.