There are two times where I can pretty much bank on feeling like a terrible mother.
Right before (and as) I am leaving for work in the morning.
(For "abandoning" my child and motherly duties, leaving them to my poor husband, in my pursuit of worldly things)
And from about 6 to 9 pm every night as I am desperately trying to calm my screaming child who refuses to eat, nurse, or otherwise be soothed despite my very best efforts. And while I know that Mr. D would be more than happy to put him in the swing and he would easily fall asleep in a heartbeat, I hate that stupid swing. It makes me feel replaced as a mother, and resentful that a silly mechanical thing can put the child I carried for 9 long months to bed and I can't...it's like a slap in the face from Mr. Graco himself.
Man. This parenting thing is way more complicated than I ever thought imaginable. Or, as a friend recently put it, "Its a thousand times harder than you could have ever imagined it would be. But somehow it's also a MILLION times more rewarding than you ever thought possible."