It happens more times than I care to admit. I overestimate my own awesomeness and believe I am capable of more than I truly am.

This usually happens when I need to run a quick errand and suddenly every child in my house wants to tag along. “Mommy, can I come, too?” they sing in four-part harmony when I’m trying to quietly sneak out the door.

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I had been swimming in my mommy guilt for days. I could see it in my daughter’s beautiful blue eyes. I had messed up. 

I apologized of course, but the wound would take longer to heal than my quickly offered “I’m so sorry, baby.” So we slowly danced, she and I, with our still-swirling emotions. 

Out of curiosity and a need for some companionship in the area, I started a conversation on Facebook about the struggle of mommy guilt. Later that day, a sweet mom messaged me privately telling of her own pain in this area. Her story began with “I should have known better,” and ended with “I’m a better mom today,” but in the middle of those two very normal statements she waded through an ocean of guilt.  My heart physically hurt for her. 

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