On Mothering

Mother’s Day started for me this morning with an elaborate presentation of gifts from an elaborately recycled box (“It’s so visco, Mummy!”) and as I waded through my box of tricks, I felt lucky to have two pragmatic, resourceful and incredibly loving daughters in my life.

I felt like I didn’t quite deserve their unequivocal love and affection; I am approaching the final stages of a divorce from their father.

The minute I finally realised I could no longer thrive within my marriage, the hurricane of self destruction hit me: ‘mother guilt’. It had, of course, been there since I became a Mum- it’s part of it all- but my goodness, it’d never felt like this before!

The thing is, I’m still working out how to do it; I’m still working out how to be me as a mother for 60% of the week and me as me for the other 40%. There’s a difference. For me anyway, there’s a difference and the facets of these two personas haven’t quite resolved to accept each other yet.

But I’m getting there. The path ahead is becoming clearer and my two girls are right beside me, helping me to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

In the wise words of the great John Steinbeck: “Perhaps it takes courage to raise children.”