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I’ve written about the Mother Guilt before. It tears at me every morning as I leave the house, knowing I won’t be the first person to say good morning to my baby. It tugs a little more as I put her to bed at night, wondering if I have done all I can to be a good mum to her that day.

The thing is, I work because I have to. If I didn’t do this job I would be doing another one. I’d either be working from home (as I was before), continuously trying to check emails as my toddler hanged off my leg, or I’d be working in a newsroom somewhere, juggling the childcare run, packing of nappy bag and all the rest that entails leaving a house with a small person.

When I say “I have to” work, it’s not just a statement based on financial reasons. Yes, we need the money. What family doesn’t at the moment? But I also enjoy my job. I want to make the most of every opportunity that I can, as well as making use of my degrees, training, work experience. I want to be an example to my daughter. I want to retain some of the me that existed before she arrived.

But there’s always that guilt.

So imagine how miffed I was to read that, apparently, if you decide to be a mother, you should also decide to give up work. That’s according to Gwyneth Paltrow anyway.

The Beautiful One gave an interview to Harper’s Bazaar recently, in which she shared words of wisdom for women and mothers across the globe. According to Gwynnie, we all have to cook a fulfilling meal for our husband when he gets home from work. And we have to give up work and any sort of career when we have a baby. (That’s if we want to be the very best mum, you understand.)

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing either way for being a stay at home mum, work at home mum, working mum or anything inbetween. As far as I’m concerned, whatever your choice is just that – yours.

I’m not going to sit here judging you if you go out to work and put your children in childcare, just as I’m not going to sit here judging you if you give up work to look after your children full time.

It’s nothing to do with me. I’m doing my best just to keep my own head above water and do as good a job as I can of being a mum. I’m doing what my own mum did before me, and her mum did before that. I’m doing the same as every mum I know. Trying my hardest.

I may not make my husband a homecooked meal every night. I’m either too knackered or working to try and earn money towards that sacred deposit on a house. So I’m sorry for not being as perfect and rich and wifely as you Gwyneth.

But I’m doing my best.

And if that isn’t good enough well, Gwyneth, you can just rod off.

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Me. Changing my name.

I changed my name recently – getting married can do that to you. The thing is, I keep forgetting.

There’s nothing like being unable to place your own name to make other people think you’re an idiot.  It doesn’t help when you forget your address in the same sentence. Bloody forms. Why do they always need your name and address anyway? Stupid passports. You’d have thought a terribly unflattering picture would be enough.

Anyway, when I married the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine I decided not to follow my new husband’s suggestion and call myself Mrs Northern Love Machine. Instead I took his actual name: Weaver.

This is a problem for two reasons. The first is that I harbour secret hopes of one day producing a sister for Frog and “Eva” is one of my favourite names. While the NLM thinks “Eva Weaver” has a certain ring to it, I have to disagree.

The second problem is that I rather like my maiden name. I like the way it gives me an opportunity after a couple of glasses of wine to lie to people about my family’s huge wealth. “Oh ‘Forbes’, yes that’s us. We’ve got the magazine, the castle, everything. We’re stinking rich.” *ahem*

I’ve also grown rather attached to my old name. Molly Forbes is who I am. It’s who I’ve been since the day I was born. Molly Weaver sounds like someone else.

So I’ve decided to keep my old name, sort of. I’ll stay Molly Forbes for work purposes, so the name matches the one on my portfolio of cuttings and demo tapes. But I’ll be Molly Weaver at home. It means I get to have a secret Weaver-related identity. And it also means I get to have the same name as my daughter and husband, without giving up the old one completely.

Is that a cop out though?Am I sitting on the surname fence here? What’s in a name anyway? I’d love to know what you think.

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