We have just about perfected the recipe for Kate-flavored Mommy Guilt.

First, on the first two days that I go back to work, arrange for both children to have brain transplants. Replete with tantrums, dramatics, and frusrtation... and that's just by Willem and my dad. The kids are out of control.

Next, on the third morning, wake Jacob at 6:30 in the morning and have him stand in his crib, sniffling and calling plaintively, "I want Mama, I want Mama." Not in a cranky, demanding sort of way, much heavier on the woe-is-me scale. Bring him into bed with me for half an hour and have him lie on my chest and stare at me all balefully and pathetically. Then have me head off to work.

Then, in the middle of the night after the third day, have Jacob wake up and be absolutely inconsolable. Have Willem get up with him, and then have Willem come wake me up and say, "I've tried everything, I can't get him back down." I'll grumble and head in there, Jacob will cling, like a burr but cuter, and sob whenever I try to put him down. I'll burst into tears, it'll be a mess. Then when I finally leave Jacob to cry himself to sleep, he will do so within 90 seconds.

Finally, when I come back to bed (and for this part, it would be helpful if you were my husband, because if someone else is in my bed at 4:00 in the morning it will freak me out and that will get in the way of the purity of the guilt), you could try to comfort me, but by telling me all of the reasons why I shouldn't be feeling sad and guilty, so now I get to feel guilty ABOUT feeling guilty! Hooray!

Sigh. It'll get better. It BETTER get better. Argh.