My man is *ahem* slightly hungover and is napping with Daniel (at my request) so I am putting my feet up (really!) between some straightening up and getting ready for dinner. I know my sanity requires this but I can't help but feel extremely guilty over how I'm leaving the sugar container on the dining table from my coffee consumed hours ago, or how I should move the baby bouncer to the wall instead of where I dragged it to be near the couch... or how my toenail polish is so old, my pink toes aren't even varnished anymore.
But what really has me feeling the extreme pressures of guilt, besides everything else in my life, is the fact that my son has a gnarly little rash going on down south, that is entirely out of my control and not my fault but still is my fault completely. Darn my inability to predict his poops and that he may potentially sit in them for a little while! I started using cloth diapers during the day, which claims to help eliminate diaper rash completely. The one disposable diaper we use at night rarely encounters poop anymore (he's a daytime pooper) so I don't think that's the culprit, and we're not supposed to use barrier cream or ointments with cloth. So what am I supposed to do?! I heard a tip and did some research on use of coconut oil as a ointment for cloth diapered babies, so I've been using that... with very little success so far except to make my wallet sad over the $7 per 6 ounce jar at Whole Foods. Why.
So I've been casually job searching and I think I may have found something worthwhile (emphasis on may, as communication regarding said job is painstakingly slow), it would be a per diem job as a registered nurse but I am terrified, TERRIFIED of the idea of taking Daniel to a baby sitter or daycare. Like somehow, the one or two day/few hours a week he'd spend with someone other than me or his father will ruin him forever? Yeah... I just sit here and wonder how moms or dads who have no choice but to daycare their kids almost from birth do it. I know the majority of childcare providers are NOT the scum of the earth unworthy of even being under my shoe, I just can't help but think the terrible things that have happened to children in the past will ALL happen to my precious son.
Becoming a mother has turned me into the best and worst person I could possibly be - the ultimate in motherly love and the fatalist drama queen. I need help. Or just to get over myself. A little household disarray, tiny rash on his bum, and a scrap here and there with fellow daycare kidlets will not ruin my son... I just need to remember that.