I feel like an unsuccessful mother these past couple days. I can't say I'm a bad mother because I haven't done anything wrong or damaging (that's my quick definition of a bad mother) but unsuccessful seems to fit. I can't seem to soothe Joshua every time like I could last week. And he fusses when breastfeeding which is most frustrating.

That frustrates me because 1. I don't feel like he's gotten a full feeding, 2. I feel like I should be doing something different to make him less fussy (whatever that is), 3. I want to keep my milk supply up so that it's there when he is ready for a full feeding, and 4. It's not expected for him to not feed well. That's probably what gets to me the most. I have this funny thing with expectations. Once I have an idea about how something should be then it's suddenly not that way, I get very frustrated. For example, if we're planning a trip to the beach (not that we have a beach closer than 340 miles) but if we're planning a trip and I check the weather and the forecast calls for wind and sun, I will start imagining how this trip will be. We'll have a pic-nic, fly a kite, I'll lay in the sun, make sandcastles, fall asleep to the sound of the waves, feed seagulls, etc. When we get there, let's say there's rain that came in unexpectedly. That one thing, change in weather, will ruin my mood because I will not have my expectations met of what the weather should be like. It won't matter to me that there may be plenty to do in doors or around town, my expectation was to do the beach stuff.

Same here. He' supposed to wake up, have his diaper changed, feed well, burp and spit up a little, make happy cooing sounds in his rocker while I eat breakfast and/or check email, then fuss a little as a sign that he's ready for a nap. But when that routine goes haywire, it throws off my expectations of what the morning should be like. Dorothy, mother of two grown kids, tells me, "Kids never do what you want them to do." She also tells me that sometimes babies lose their appetite and it doesn't mean anything is wrong. That's reassuring.

So why can't I just accept that maybe he's not hungry? Why can't I just let go of the idea that he's going to forever change and grow into a thriving boy who will eventually not need anything from me? That my expectations of what should happen next will always gradually change in all situations? To quote Bad Boys II, "wooo-saaaw, wooo-saaaw".