To myself and all mothers who have this illness. Guilt.

Mothers guilt. I pin-point it to the 7th May 1998. The day my beautiful daughter entered this world. I hadn’t heard of it before and I didn’t know it existed but then it smacked me in the face and it festers in the background. The levels vary, if I’m on my iPad while everyone is watching tv It’s about 2/10. If I choose what I want to watch on tv it’s about 4/10. If I stay in bed beyond 9am I’m up to about 8/10. If it’s going skiing (tomorrow) for four nights with my parter while my two stay at their dads it’s a gazillion out of ten.

This is me, the other day when my boss said have a nice hol. Oh thanks I said. My children are not coming i said. But I had booked a summer holiday to Menorca for them in July I said. They get on really well with their dad, I said. My boy hates the cold and snow I said. We’ve paid for my daughter to go skiing with school next year I said. They get to have a lie in as he lives closer to their school I said. Sorry,I can’t help but justify myself, I said. He looked at me puzzled. Have a bloody nice time, he said.

I said goodbye to them both tonight, hope you have fun mum they said as they thanked me for the massive box of cakes and gave me a huge squeeze and a hug before they ran off to their play station and the Simpsons. I reflected on the way home that they have never made me feel guilty for anything and they could have. I do that all by myself. And I felt overwhelmed and proud and do you know what I’m going skiing and I’ll be at a bar tomorrow night and I’ll have a smile on my face. But don’t forget I have booked for Menorca…… 🙂

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