Why I'm a terrible mom

There are often crumbs on my baby because I eat over her. I'm pretty sure I've accidentally pinched her during diaper changes and that's why she's screamed so much (I've since been more careful and the screaming has mostly stopped). I've started using burp rags as my own personal napkins because we always have them around and they're so convenient.

One time I even caught her delicate skin in a snap as I was changing her diaper. She'd already been shrieking and she took it up a notch. I now knew she had a reason for the screams other than "my tummy isn't quite full."

I also occasionally buy ice cream instead of putting the money directly into her college fund, and I dress her in cute outfits simply because I want to see her in them, even though she screams every single time.

Yet sometimes I avoid changing her outfit, even if it reeks a bit from spit-up, simply because I don't want to hear her screams, or make her upset.

Sometimes I avoid changing her diaper when I know Matt will be home from work soon so I can hand her off "to Daddy to play!" (with a bright smile, as if it should be an honor to play with her, which it is of course) and then offhandedly mention that, by the way, she could probably use a diaper change.

When I'm carrying her, even though I know she's perfectly safe, sometimes she gets a freaked-out look on her face, as if she thinks she's off balance and is going to be dropped. I can see it in her eyes and it's unmistakable. Her arms even flail as if trying to keep her from falling or to be ready to catch her if she does.

When she spits up on me, my first instinct is to wipe it off my clothes first, then hers and then her face. After all, it's easier to clean skin than clothes and she'll grow out of hers before I'm done with mine.

If I could bribe her to reinstate her long afternoon nap, I would in a heartbeat.

Sometimes I throw her toys at the cats when they're misbehaving and I can't get to them.

Then there was the time that I caught some kind of chill and couldn't get warm no matter what I did. Thinking Kalina must be cold, too ("boy, it's cold in here!") I bundled her up in layer upon layer until she was red and practically sweating.

Yup, Kalina's destined to avoid me as a teenager.

The ironic thing is that in the skin-in-snap incident, as in others, she found herself wanting to be comforted by the very person who had inflicted the pain on her. Is she in an abusive relationship? Should she seek help?

I think there's a reason children don't remember much before age 3.