Tuesday, February 17, 2009
I don't have baby mama guilt, I have cat mama guilt.
I steer clear of "mommy guilt." Which, considering I'm a working mom is probably alarming to some people. But likely not as alarming as the fact that I haven't been interested in using the baby monitor since Sabrina was oh, a month old or so. My husband's face when I say, "She's fine!" tells me that's not a normal stance for a mother, a first time mother at that, to take. For those about to call CPS, Chris uses the monitor (or the microphone as I call it) nightly. I'm the only one refusing.
But in terms of mommy guilt, I just don't do it. I don't do guilt, period. If something is making me feel guilty, I stop it or change it. I'm doing the best I can for Sabrina, and I personally think it's pretty damn good. Perfect? No. Far from it. But guilty? Nope.
Except when it comes to my cat. I have extreme cat mommy guilt.
I knew people's relationships with their pets changed when they had a baby. I knew it would change. But not this much. Don't get me wrong, I'm still obsessed with Howie on an unhealthy level, but not nearly what is was. And worse, I simply can't give him the attention he used to get. Sabrina has turned out to be rather high maintenace, what with her inability to feed herself, change herself, move around at will...things like that have taken most of my time when I'm home. So I no longer have time to cuddle with him (ok, so grabbing him and forcing him to curl up next to me while I hold him against his will may not sound like cuddling to you, but it works for us)or sing to him (he really did enjoy that), have long drawn out conversations with him...his mommy time has been reduced to that hour sitting on my lap between when Sabrina goes to bed and I hit the sack.
The worst isn't even that I don't have the time to spend with him, but that I keep mistreating him on accident. Like stepping on him. It keeps happening, and I'm not sure why since each time it's happened I'm wearing my Ugg slippers that are quite massive and fluffy - hard to miss, but somehow Howie ends up underneath him. Or he keeps following me into the garage but not back into the house so he gets shut in there for a few hours before I think, "anyone know where Howie is?"
I can't promise him more time during the day than I already give him, but from now on I'm going to really try to not bat his face away from mine at 3am when he thinks it's fun to tickle my face with his whiskers. Instead, I'll try and "cuddle" at that time. Or at least pet him. That should do it.