Confessions of a working mother

I haven't been home in time for stories once this week. Hate that.

When I was having a particularly low time in the work/life juggling act last year, my friend Katy sent me a copy of I don't Know How She Does It by Allison Pearson. I have to say my instant reaction was 'why do I want to read about this? I'm living it' - I wanted escape, not to have my nose rubbed in it.

But you know, it's funny and it's true and it makes you want to press it in to the hands of your husband and wail 'this is my life this is my life!' You're safe to do this, there's no way he'll read a book so pink, and when you've calmed down again you'll realise that maybe it's just as well because there's not a lot he can do to make things better.

Because the true cause of things feeling wrong is emotional, not circumstantial.

Six months on, a line from the book keeps coming back to me:'nobody told me'. It's so true, that nobody tells you how it will feel when you have to leave a sick child to go to an important meeting; nobody tells you how it will break your heart that you can't make the Christmas play, or rush in late and miss the crucial bit. Before your child is born, you think about them in terms of logistics. After you've met them, the worst thing is that you still have to plan everything as logistics, but all you really want to do is pour all your energy and love and creativity into them and to hell with all the careful plans.

But the other truth that shines to me is that the pressure comes so much from ourselves. It's not about what's best for the child: god knows little a is healthy and happy, and chucks my energy and love and creativity back in my face most of the time; and it's not even about what work demands of us. It's that we think we should be able not to have it all, but to do it all. We want to be perfect mothers and perfect career girls. It's the perfectionism that does us in.

So, give yourself a break. Read Allison Pearson. Laugh, cry, and then go back to crazy multi-tasking.