A couple of days ago I saw a tweet. It came at just the right moment, speaking to me through my haze of tired eyes and puffy feet: “The idea that we always have to be tired to be successful is wrong. We need new role models.”

It seems SO simple. But in a society where so many of us are rushing around all the time, proudly declaring how busy we are, it seems almost controversial to suggest that being busy and, ultimately, being tired is not always a good thing. There is such a thing as being too busy.

This week has been a bit of a strange one for me. After my pregnancy health scare last weekend I’ve been more aware than ever of the need to slow down a bit. And when I say “slow down” I don’t mean sitting on the sofa all day. I mean reverting back to a normal pace of being, that doesn’t involve running up and down the stairs, rushing everywhere and constantly fretting – to the point of waking in the night – that I’ve forgotten to do something. 

Before I became a mum I found it quite easy to switch off. I’d go to work, work my arse off, then come home and chill out. Sometimes I’d go to the pub, sometimes I’d go out for dinner, sometimes I’d just sit around at home in my pyjamas with a face mask and a good film. The point is, I didn’t feel guilty about doing “nothing”, because I knew I’d fulfilled my busyness quota for the day.

But when you have responsibilities other than work, the thought of sitting around in your PJs seems like a huge luxury, rather than just a normal way of relaxing after a busy day.

Most days, I have just three hours of child-free daylight time to cram in all the freelance work I do. Considering I work around 30 hours a week that’s not very much daylight time. So my evenings often involve working too. When I’m not working I’m being a mum, entertaining, playing, talking. And when Frog is happily entertaining herself I’m doing chores, making tea, scraping porridge off the carpet.

It never ends. Parenthood is brutal. Add work to the mix and the idea of carving out any time for yourself is almost laughable.

When I take a step back, though,  I realise so much of my hectic life is down to my own making. I don’t need to take on as much as I do. We moved to Devon for cheaper living and a better quality of life, after all. But as a freelancer, I find it hard to turn work down and, if I’m honest, there’s a competitive edge to me that doesn’t want to be “out-done” by my peers.

And then I burn out. Or get sick. And I rue my life and wail that it’s everyone else’s fault rather than taking responsibility for the fact the situation is entirely of my own making.

Partly, I think, this need to be busy is linked to what I see others around me doing. I compare my own workload, for example, with those who have full-time childcare or children already at school. I think I should be doing as much as they are, so I pitch more and say “no” less. And then I see other parents saying how busy they are too, like being busy is a badge of honour to wear with pride. We smile over our hectic weekend plans and share a laugh over the fact, “It never ends, eh?”

I’ve realised something this week though. As I’ve stayed up late to meet deadlines, comforted my daughter in the middle of the night over a bad dream, rushed to get laundry done and stop my home resembling a hovel, it dawned on me that sometimes doing nothing is just as important as doing something.

Sometimes you need to watch TV mindlessly without scrolling through Twitter at the same time. Sometimes you need to get outside and go for a walk without feeling the need to quickly check emails en-route. Sometimes you need to allow yourself to turn down a work project or sit for five minutes with a cup of tea on the sofa, without that feeling of guilt taking over.

Doing nothing doesn’t make you an under-achiever. Switching off your phone and having an hour in the bath with a good book doesn’t make you lazy.

We don’t always need to be tired, overworked and too busy, to be successful people worthy of praise and respect.

I just need to remind myself of this a bit more often.

What do you think? Do we place too much value on being busy?

The post Being busy is not a badge of honour appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

When we moved to this little corner of Devon at the beginning of the school holidays it all felt very exciting. The sun was shining hot heat over the pretty hills and the sandals and strappy tops on the high street made it feel like a holiday.

Two weeks passed and the holiday vibe was replaced with something else.

My (teacher) husband was off work and my three year old’s pre-school was closed for the holidays. We had days out and trips away, but I still had to work, albeit from home. Life was still exciting, but I craved a bit of stability and routine. I think that craving was partly due to the fact we are only temporarily renting our house, so it felt even more like a holiday home. 

This time last week I was sad that summer was over. I already missed the long days on the beach and rambles over the moor. I dreaded the pre-school dash in the morning and cramming the extra work hours into my shorter working day. But, at the same time, I was eager to return to a sense of normality. I was ready for it to feel less like a holiday and more like our life.

So, summer is now officially over. But you know what? That’s OK. The last week has been brilliant. We are starting to feel settled. We have a new routine.

Frog LOVES pre-school. We get to wander down the hill together in the morning when I drop her off and I feel like part of a club, as I smile at the other mums at the gates. This is simple stuff, but they are things I missed when I was working on a breakfast radio show alongside my freelance writing work, pulling 80 hour working weeks and being out of the door at 4.30am. The work was fun, but so is walking down the road listening to the chatter of my story-telling three year old.

People are friendly here. There is a slower pace of life, I feel less stressed and frantic. I get no Internet signal outside of the house, so I can’t surreptitiously check my phone for emails. I like that. My three year old likes that. People know when they can get hold of me so I don’t worry about being available 24/7.

We have a little routine going on. Afternoons are spent doing stuff. Eating cake in a cafe, meandering down to the library or the park, going to swimming lessons or playing at home.

For the first time since becoming a mum I have a regular two evenings a week to myself doing non-work, non-mum stuff, at a Yoga and a Zumba class. I even enjoy the walk there (although not so much when it’s raining). I’m starting to wonder if this is what “normal” feels like.

Of course there are bouts of stress or anxiety, as I fret about hitting deadlines and keeping on top of work. But, mostly, I am managing the juggle. I enjoy my mornings working, even. It adds balance to the mum stuff.

Summer’s over, but that’s OK. I’m looking forward to seeing what autumn brings.

The post Summer’s over, but that’s OK appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I became a mum at 26. We didn’t own our own home and we weren’t married. But that was all OK, because that was part of The Plan. We moved from our town centre flat to a little cottage in a village, with the intention of saving and enjoying life as new parents. We had always discussed having two or three children, about four years apart.

The Plan involved buying a house before another child came along, getting married at some point and continuing with my career as a journalist. That evolved along the way, as we realised that childcare is blooming expensive and my meagre salary would barely cover the cost of a morning at nursery. So we made some adjustments and Ta Da! The Refined Plan was born.

Except that didn’t really work out either, because my work situation changed. And then we decided that we might not want to live in this area until we bought a house. And, actually, we weren’t quite ready for another baby yet. It dawned on us that perhaps The Refined Plan was not so much a helpful guide as a heavy weight hanging around our shoulders, taunting us with what we were yet to achieve.

And so, here we are.

We have made the bold decision to ditch the plan (see? I’ve even removed the capital letters). Instead we are running with a new way of doing things. It’s called the See What Will Happen And Enjoy Life In The Now route. Not so catchy, but far more fun.

The thing is, this lack of clarity over a big life plan seems to irk some people. Apparently, if you are a good, responsible parent, you need to map out each five years of your life and get from A to B seamlessly.

As my two year old hurtles toward her third birthday, I’m constantly reminded – often by complete strangers – that she doesn’t have a little brother or sister. Sometimes they look at my belly, as if searching for a bump, before seeking my empty arms for any sign of a newborn. They always appear disappointed when nothing is there.

I didn’t know this would be the case.

As if being a parent isn’t hard enough, with the minefield of decisions and constant “Am I doing enough? Am I doing it right?” questions, there is yet more thrown at us. Not only do we have to put up with divisions and judgments about whether we leave the house to go to work or stay home to look after the children, breast or bottlefeed, puree or baby-led wean, use a buggy or a sling – but now, it seems, our very choices about HAVING children are thrown into the spotlight.

I’ve lost count of the times I’ve been told to, “Hurry up and have another” before my child gets too old to “get along” with any potential sibling. When I joke that we’re not quite “ready yet” for another baby, I’m met with a raised eyebrow and a shrug, as if I’m irrationally peculiar for not immediately planning our second baby once we became pregnant with the first.

Life doesn’t work like that though. Life has a habit of throwing curve-balls and putting new opportunities and hurdles in our way. Life doesn’t always allow us to plan each year perfectly, map out each century, define each day.

Our new Not Plan doesn’t mean we aren’t motivated. It doesn’t mean we are existing from day to day without making provisions for the future. We still have wishes and wants and things to achieve together. We still have a journey to make as a family and an adventure to carve out.

But it won’t fit into some tidy, neat little grid. It won’t, because life isn’t a spreadsheet. Sometimes you’ve just got to ride the wave and accept you don’t know what’s on the other side.

The post On not having a plan appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Sometimes you just need a weekend eating too much food, straying no further than 8 miles from home and just, well, being together.

This is how it started, at 7am yesterday morning:

A (fraught) trip to the supermarket followed, to pick up essentials like Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and fizzy wine for the ideal Saturday night.

An afternoon of napping, reading, catching up on some work and then a trudge through the snow to the village pub. Chips slathered in ketchup, along with a glass of orange juice, a bowl of ice cream and a gin and tonic for Mummy. This is what our Saturday was made of.

The diet starts again tomorrow. Maybe.

The post A life worth living appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I’m not talking about a snotty kiss from my two year old, or a loving message from my husband (although they’re nice too), I’m talking about the other things. The tiny things that I won’t remember when I’m old. The inconsequential things that make my days a bit brighter if I’m struggling.

Spring shoots, bringing the promise of summer…

Finding the last Madeleine Cake at the bottom of the tin…

A cup of Earl Grey out of my snazzy new mug…

The last slice of Christmas cake…

Dreaming of upcycling ideas for a cute new furniture project…

Finding a note (complete with kisses from a friendly postman!) saying there’s a parcel waiting at the Post Office for me…

A spare half hour losing myself in a spot of knitting…

And, when all else fails, a delicious glass of red on a Saturday night…

These are the things brightening up my life at the moment. What are yours?

The post Little things that make me happy appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Celebrating the ordinary: managing to persuade a toddler to have an afternoon nap = win.

Last week I wrote a post admitting I often struggle with feeling “not good enough“. It was one of those posts that sees you hesitate before hitting publish. I worried that I’d been too vulnerable, admitted too much, been a bit needy. No one likes needy.

But I’m glad I wrote that post. The huge range of comments it provoked, both on the blog, Twitter, Facebook and Google+, all made me realise it’s not just me. It would seem every single one of us has the odd nagging doubt from time to time.

I admitted I sometimes didn’t feel like I was doing “enough” in my working life (despite often working around 70 hours a week). I held my hands up to the fact I very rarely felt like I was doing “enough” in my role as a mum and wife. I openly shouted that I’m RUBBISH at keeping on top of the housework and the washing.

But then a funny thing happened. I had comments from other mums with sparkly careers in the media and finance. I had comments from other mums who spend all day making homemade playdough and sensory tubs. I had comments from mums with immaculate homes.

I had comments from university students worried about getting top grades, comments from dads struggling with juggling work and fatherhood and comments from grandparents who feel they should do more.

And the common theme amongst every single comment? NO ONE felt like they were continually being good enough. Whatever that may be.

And it got me thinking, maybe we need to start shouting more about the ordinary stuff. I’m not talking about the parenting wins or the amazing career breaks or the huge big life announcements on Facebook. I’m talking about the little things – making tea without burning the saucepan. Getting the kids to bed without a tantrum. Going a full two days in a row without a celebratory glass of wine in the evening.

THESE are the things we need to make more of. Then maybe we’d all realise we’re pretty much the same. Whatever your family finances, the size of your house, the success of your career, the skill of your baking or playdough making – no one is perfect all the time. And you know what? That’s OK actually.

So, here’s your chance to celebrate the ordinary. What normal, mundane stuff has gone right for you today?

The post Celebrating the ordinary appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Change is not a bad thing. In fact, accepting that life is full of change – much that you can’t control – will make you an ultimately happy and contented person. Or, a person who can’t accept that life is full of change will never be happy. It’s like standing in front of the rising tide on a beach and trying to push it back. You’ll never win.

This is a good concept to keep in my mind this year.

Over the festive holidays I spent quite a few moments watching my daughter and trying to put her on pause. I wanted to freeze frame every funny moment and keep it still in my mind forever. I felt sad that she was literally changing in front of my eyes. Every day brought new words, new phrases, funny facial expressions and imaginative games. She is changing so fast.

But it’s not a bad thing. Change is the nature of life and I’m going to embrace it. Things in our life will inevitably change this year. Rather than be scared of our big plans and jumping into the unknown, we’re going to take a leap with a smile on our faces and the knowledge that it’s going to happen sooner or later anyway.

Life can never be the same always. It doesn’t work like that.

Thanks Dad.

Nearly 4 months pregnant. Not yet moved, not yet freelance, not yet a mum.

A year later. A mum. Still not freelance.

And another year on again. Same baby. Same house. Same area. New freelance job.

And another year. Same daughter. Same house. Same area. Same freelance role. Different hair (very important). About to change all over again.

The post Why change is a good thing appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

My story is one of waiting and hope and a strange week of limbo. It’s one of trying to stay positive and wanting to wrap up the people I love, taking the hurt away.

As I put my daughter to bed tonight, I was reminded of the endless ways children can surprise us. A bleak phone call had just confirmed the week of waiting was apparently at an end. There is no hope left.

As the tears poured down my cheeks I pasted on a jolly smile and started to read a story. But my two year old stopped me. “Mummy, don’t cry,” she said. “Why sad?”

I explained that people we love are hurting and sometimes life isn’t very kind. I’m not sure how to explain those kind of truths to a toddler really. But she seemed to understand.

Nodding with a sense of wisdom, Frog turned to me and kissed my cheek, where the tears had fallen. “It’s OK Mummy, I make it better.” And she tottered over to collect a hairbrush, before calmly brushing my hair and patting my head.

“I make it better Mummy,” she whispered, kissing my eyes to dry the tears. “Don’t cry Mummy. You need plaster? I make it better.”

As I accepted the soothing, gentle kindness from my (usually fierce) toddler, I felt her soft hair on my cheek and smelled her warm, freshly-bathed skin. I drank in her life and held it close to me.

“You want a magic kiss Mummy?” she asked.

Never has she known me so well.

The post When the hope is gone, kissing it better appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

So rather than be sad, I pushed the anxious thoughts to the back of my mind and spent four hours with my beautiful girl, appreciating life. When things go wrong, I think that’s all you can do. Appreciate life and grab every second of happiness you can. It’s a gift, not something to be taken for granted.

We joined the OAP’s at the local garden centre cafe. I ate a cheese scone with a cup of tea while my toddler tucked into a crispy chocolatey cakey thing.

We wandered into the fish shop (I’m sure that’s not the correct term, but I’m not really a fish person) and checked out the goldfish and other types of fish (no idea) swimming around. I spotted one about 3 centimetres long and priced at £65. We’re never getting fish.

Then we drove into our nearest town and mooched about the shops, buying Frog a new pair of shoes in the process. It’s the first time she’s had a pair of shoes without ankle support and her physio recommended it. She loves them, calling them her “big girl shoes”.

We bought some chocolate buttons (it was that kind of day) and popped into a charity shop where I picked up four lovely books for the grand sum of £3.50. My two year old will be so pleased on Christmas Day. No, seriously, she will.

Then we did a bit of celeb spotting…

And reindeer spotting…

As the crowds gathered in front of the stage in the middle of the square, ready to see the lights being switched on, I watched as my two year old lapped up the atmosphere.

I looked at her dancing her little heart out and smiled.

These are the moments we take with us. These are the moments that make life so worth grabbing hold of. These are the moments to treasure.

Life is precious.

The post Making the most of the people I love appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

It goes something like this, “I just don’t know how you do it”. Or, “I couldn’t do it, I don’t know how you do”. Or, “You should really take care – I mean, I just don’t know how you manage it”.

In each situation, the person is talking about my work.

I say “work” rather than “job”, because I actually have several jobs. I juggle these around the regular duties of motherhood, just like hundreds of thousands of other women up and down the country.

The thing is, this juggling and racing around at a hundred miles an hour has become the norm for me now. I get up at 3.45am, drive 45 minutes to work, present a breakfast radio show, do post and pre-show prep, then drive 45 minutes to the childminder and collect my child. I spend the afternoon avoiding tantrums and attempting to make my motherhood tiara sparkle like a disco ball, before putting my daughter to bed and starting the next run of work.

The other work involves sitting at my computer and writing. It may be writing copy for clients, writing features for magazines or websites, writing blog posts or just writing a million and one response emails. Either way, writing is very much a part of what I do and how I put money in the bank.

This isn’t particularly exciting, but I want to keep a record of my life as it is right now, because I know it won’t be this way forever.

At some point I will either have another baby, burn out or win the lottery.

Or – and this is the thing that really keeps me going – the work will dry out. Because when you’re self-employed, there’s nothing like the fear of having no work to keep you battling on.

So, to those that ask me “How do you do it?” my response is this: I do it because I can, because I love what I do, because I have to, because I don’t know how long I’ll be doing it for and because I want to purchase my own home eventually.

But, above all else, I do it for this:

Frog, aka Miss Motivator

The post Being a working mum. Or, “Attempts at staying afloat”. appeared first on Mother's Always Right.