A Subtle, Guilty Struggle

Andrew and I have a struggle.  It's not something we argue about loudly.  No one is stomping off, yelling, slamming doors, screaming I am the meanest mother in the world.  It's actually a very subtle struggle.  I don't know that Doug even realizes we have this struggle. 
It's over stuffed animals. 
I bet you're asking yourself- "Seriously?  Stuffed animals?  What could the struggle be over them?" 
Well this is me- and I have issues. 
I hate stuffed animals.  To me they're clutter, dust collectors, space taker uppers.  I hate clutter.  (there's a whole other struggle against clutter between Doug and I- but that's a whole other post all together).  If I allowed it- Andrew would sleep with all of his stuffed animals, bean bag, John Deere pillow, stuffed animal pillow, and NC State pillow.  I can't allow it.  I have asked myself why?  It's not my bed. Why do I care how much junk is in there with him?  I don't know. I just do. I have even convinced myself that Andrew sleeps better without all that junk in his bed.  (when in actuality- it's probably just me that sleeps better).  I used to just pile the animals in a basket by his bed, but they were too easily accessible and I would find extra animals in his bed with him when I'd go to give him one more kiss before I went to bed (sometimes I find Transformers, cars, superheroes, or books in bed with him too).  So I bought one of those nets that you can hang up in the corner of your room, and had Doug hang it up so that we could put all the animals up- out of easy reach. 
The struggle is pretty much over.  The animals are put up and not cluttering up everything and it makes me happy- sort of. 
I have issues, so of course, I feel sort of bad that I went to such efforts to put them out of easy reach.  What harm did they do?  None.  And yet, while I feel bad- I can't take them down either.  The clutter makes me feel itchy and twitchy. 
However this leads into my next train of thought.  Guilt.  I am riddled with it. 
Shortly before I had Andrew.  I was gigantically pregnant and vegging on the couch watching Oprah.  Gweneth Paltrow was the guest and she was saying something about parenthood and no one prepared her for the extreme guilt.  That comment made a huge impression on me, because as suddenly and intensely as you love your child- you feel extreme guilt. 
The other morning I took Andrew to sports camp.  We were running a smidge late, so I gave him a granola bar and some milk for breakfast to eat in the car.  When I dropped him off I realized- we didn't hardly talk at all on the ride over to camp and all I gave him was a granola bar for breakfast?!  How was that supposed to sustain him until lunch?  When I got home I was stricken with how awful I felt.  Seriously.  How could I have not talked to him? (I wasn't mad at him- I just didn't have anything to say). 
I can feel guilty for the same thing, but different sides of it.  I will feel guilty for not playing with Andrew enough and maybe he's lonely, and playing with him too much so that he can't entertain himself.  For letting him watch too much tv- or not letting him watch enough because he doesn't know who characters like SpongeBob (honestly he's not missing anything on that particular character) are and am I unintentionally making him the class loser?!  I feel guilty for buying him too many toys and spoiling him, but then I feel guilty for not buying him what he wants.  Reading to him too much- so that he's not practicing reading himself, or not reading enough.  The list never ends.

How does a person live like this?  Oh I am sure many of you out there, completely understand what I mean- particularly if you're a woman.