Born to do this?

I never use this thing anymore. And why would I? I mean... I don't share it with anyone. I more or less use it to sort through my own thoughts, or to get out some kind of passive aggression. All seems a little silly to me, really. It is, however, nice when I'm more consistent so I can go back and remember how I was feeling in certain situations, at certain times in my life. I must say that in college I was an avid "live-journalist", for better or for worse. I really enjoy reading those old posts, aside from the fact that they are so god-damned cryptic that I can't even decipher them half the time.
At any rate, a lot of people I know with mommy blogs have been talking about their "fail" moments as mothers. I have to laugh at them, because BOY do my failures Trump theirs. I mean... seriously?
Well for one, there's the mom guilt of working. Everyday is a struggle. I'm emotionally drained when I come home, only to find that my little munchkin has grown leaps and bounds and usually has mastered some new skill. I feel like I'm never there for any "firsts" unless I control when they happen. (Like first time eating certain things... etc). That's the ultimate feeling of failure. Missing out. If I had a choice, I'd be a house-maker, and I'd be home everyday with my babe. But I don't live in that world. I live in a world where I am the wife of a struggling small business owner, who works every bit as hard as I do, but doesn't get any compensation for it, yet. I live in a world where mortgage, car insurance, car loan, utilities, and other various payments have a tight grip on me. So I do my best to keep afloat. I do what I feel is best for my family, unfortunately that leaves me with a huge feeling of doubt. Am I doing the right thing? Who the hell knows, sure as fuck not me.
Back to the topic, since that's not really a blatant failure but an overwhelming sense of dread. I have had MANY mommy failures. Like the time I let my son smoosh strawberry yogurt up his nose and in his eyes. Good job, Mom. And then there was the time that we ventured out to S & J's house for a cookout, and I got lost in the adult conversations (since my life lacks adult conversation most of the time) and completely neglected to see that my son was eating fistfuls of dirt. Nice, Mom. And how about the time I nearly FORGOT my sleeping son in the car. Yep, that's right. I did. I came home from god-knows-where and Lucas was sleeping in the backseat. I had to pee SO bad, so I grabbed his diaper bag, my purse, and few other odds & ends and dashed in the house. I went pee, and proceeded to walk to the dishwasher, open it, and THEN realize that THE BABY IS IN THE CAR! What an asshole. Seriously... I spend 100% of my time at work worrying about what he's doing, if he feels like I neglect him, yada yada yada, and yet I FORGET he's in the car because I have to pee? Needless to say, I ran out there, less than 2 minutes had passed, and there he was. Sleeping peacefully. Not a care in the world. And there I was, bawling my eyes out in the driveway, cursing myself for being so stupid. Wonderful, Mom.
Oh and then there was just last night, when I brought Lucas up to his nursery, only to find that Daddy had taken the sheet off his crib to wash it. I called for him to come up and help me (I'm too short to reach the mattress...pathetic). So he comes up, and I plop Lucas on the floor of his own bedroom. Should be a safe place, no? Well we struggle the stupid fitted crib sheet onto the mattress, and tag team the shit out of that bumper pad, and his crib is ready for him in under a minute. And what did Lucas manage to do in that minute... wrap the cord from his monitor around his whole body, including his neck. While it was plugged in. Yup. In under a minute I managed to let my child potentially electrocute and strangle himself. Awesome, Mom.
I also tend to break EVERY guideline and rule set in front of me. I use bumper pads, despite their "lack of airflow". I let Lucas sleep with us for the first few months. I let Lucas swim in his kiddie pool without a swimmy diaper. I let Lucas roam about the house, despite the fact that it's not 100% baby proof. I moved his car seat to forward facing 3 weeks before his first birthday. I introduced nearly every food "too" early. He's eaten strawberries, blueberries, eggs... all the things I SWORE I would hold off on. I let the dog kiss him - on the mouth. He loves it.
So, am I a terrible mother? I guess only time will tell. But I can tell you this: When I come home, and snuggle the shit out of that wiggly little munchkin, and tickle him until neither of us can breathe - he sure doesn't seem to hate me. In fact, his big wet "kisses", snuggles, headbutts, and other signs of affection seem to tell me otherwise. Maybe I'm doing just fine.