The maternal juggling act shouldn’t be a source of guilt

AS we career towards Ada’s first day at primary school, I’ve been wracked with what I suppose these days is casually referred to as “mum guilt”.

Last Sunday she woke up and asked me if it was “Mummy Day” yet. When I said I had to work, she grumbled: “Not again!” Cue said guilt. We used to have lots of “Mummy Days” before she started preschool, and my lieu day for working a Sunday would often fall on her non-nursery day. A day which she and I would spend together, off on an adventure in the morning and then the afternoon spent doing arts and crafts or baking.

Unfortunately Mummy Day has fallen by the wayside as preschool, swimming and gymnastic clubs keep her busy during any days I do have off work, and so a lot of our time together is now spent in these snatched hours in the mornings or evenings.

She’s growing up so fast, lately it feels like I’m just the person who’s getting her breakfast in the morning, then spending the next hour nagging her to get dressed, wash her face, brush her teeth, you know the drill. Then off she goes to preschool on the back of her dad’s bike, and that’s it until she arrives home at 6pm, tired and grumpy, looking for snacks. Then it’s back to me nagging about bath time and pyjamas. It’s a vicious circle – for her and me.

It’s hard to be “fun and silly mum” at 7am when your child is still waking up over her Weetabix and not in a joking mood, and then at 6pm, when I turn off the computer and she barrels in through the back door, it’s even harder to summon the energy to do anything other than dinner, bath and bed.

Almost five now, those cuddles that used to be bestowed on me so regularly and freely in the early days, just for being her mum, are now few and far between, a groan of “Muuuum!” when I insist in enveloping her in one anyway. I’ve always felt that me working full-time is a good thing. Ada’s been used to both parents working since she was very young. Being away from your children does not hurt their development. During the week, a mixture of nursery and grandparents means she’s definitely benefited from interaction with other people and places. She’s a happy and sociable child, independent, and smart as hell.

Though that guilt of feeling like I’m not doing enough as a mum never really subsides, I keep battling away. I get up early to exercise so I’m back before she wakes up and when we are together I try to be as present as possible, these summer evenings allowing us a little extra daylight to play in the garden after dinner. This morning while she was eating breakfast, I caught myself saying: “I’ll just empty the dishwasher and then I’ll sit down with you.”

“Actually, scratch that,” I said, “I can do that later.”

It never feels quite enough, but that’s the exact feeling maternal guilt breeds on. Ada is a lucky girl, adored by my husband and I, she has got two loving parents so is not short of attention. I’ve taken time off work next month so I’m available when she starts her first week at primary school. I’m going to cherish those first walks to school together, leaving behind the baby years for good and entering a new stage in her life.

It is a juggling act – this constant quest to be a good mum while also continuing to carve out your own life. I have got better at spending a weekend away from her to do something like the Three Peaks Challenge or spend time with friends. I know that seeing me go and do these things means as she grows older she will also place value on exercise, independence and friendship.

I read once that questioning or worrying about being a good enough mum means you already are one.

Maybe that’s enough.