Motherhood is not for perfectionists. This irritates me but remains no less true.
This means that self-beratement for not being perfect is fruitless (though I hear it may be fruitless, regardless) and I am even more irritated. How does one deal with the realization that s/he is not perfect? Usually not well. For some reason I have the silly notion that if I just WILL myself to perform to a certain standard, then by golly it's possible. If I'm not adept at a certain function/task, well then I just haven't applied myself enough yet.
Since this is approximately the 84 millionth time I've arrived at this realization we can conclude that I am quite adept at refusing to learn from the past.
I have limits. I cannot do it all. I hate that.
I can keep a baby alive and (relatively) happy. That's something.