supermums and how to survive them...

Apologies for those wanting one of my quick updates - I keep forgetting to do them!
So for the last entry, it was tearful moments 1; friends squeezed in 3.
And since then, tearful moments 1, friends squeezed in 1 - plus assorted relatives! Quite a lot of relatives, in fact...and I managed to avoid catering for them all again which makes it even more enjoyable!
Writing down the amount of tearful moments like that can look a bit bleak, which is how I felt a few days ago. But actually, it's still a huge improvement and that's what I want to focus on. Even a year ago they would have been in double figures...
So...those supermums! Well, over the weekend I decided there were two strategies to deal with them. One was to avoid all parents of children around Tasha's age for quite some time, and the other is just to learn from them and let Tash do the same.
Option one did look quite appealing for a while but is clearly unworkable - or would lead to more problems than the exposure to supermums would. So instead I've opted for option two.
Thanks to those readers who made helpful points about them after my last post - I've taken those on board. The next encounter is scheduled for Thursday so I'll let you know how it goes!
The other big date in the diary this week is my last therapy session on Saturday. That's quite a daunting thought, and there have been a few moments this week when I've thought I should scrap that plan and book in a few more appointments.
But when I think about that rationally I can see it's just the thought of being on my own that is worrying me. And actually, I'm not. Okay, so after Saturday I may not have a monthly unloading session with a trained expert, but I will still have some great friends who often make the same points as she does.
And I will be £70 a month better off, and I will be able to access her if I feel the need to.
This is of course not a sudden, out of the blue decision - we've been talking about it since Christmas and we've worked up to Saturday by looking at more coping mechanisms and plans for the future.
But it is still worrying because I do feel there will be extra pressure on me from people thinking, 'Oh dear, perhaps she is still a bit too nuts and should go back to therapy...'. However, as I have learnt in therapy, that pressure actually comes from me and I need to use Wise Mind (which I always think of like Wise Owl...) to find the truth in a situation.
Anyway - enough deep stuff! For today's other news, did anyone else catch that programme with Vanessa Mae? It was about her considerable musical talent and whether it was down to nature or nurture. There was a lot of interesting scientific stuff in there but for me the main point came in a revealing quote from the violinist. She said: "I was always aware my mother's love was conditional..." and went on to say that although her mother said she loved her because she was her daughter, she was special because she could play the violin well and if she couldn't then she wouldn't be special.
They are now estranged, somewhat unsurprisingly. At least that's one mistake I hope not to make...
x

Supermums

They are a dangerous breed, and they are spreading!
Not just the mums who can have it all and make it look easy, but those who do all that and have lovely children who are well adjusted and confident.
For probably obvious reasons I try to keep those out of my "inner circle" and in an ideal world I would like to surround myself only with people who are as wonky as me.
But it doesn't always work like that, as I discovered yesterday when I met up with two friends and their children.
I thought we could bond over the general pants-ness of parenting at times, while our children could play happily together (or stop one step short of killing each other...).
I thought Tash would enjoy the company and we could enjoy a chat.
I ended up wrong on most counts!
Tash found it all a bit overwhelming (am trying to remind myself that this is why she has started at the childminder's) and in truth, so did I, as my glamerous and organised friends discussed everything from potty-training to education.
That sounds bitter, I know, and it's not meant to but I just felt completely inadequate as my daughter clung to my legs while their children played confidently.
Mine threw balls around - theirs understood the word gentle and complied immediately.
To be fair, some of them were older than Tash but even the younger one was displaying skills Tash has not yet mastered.
I did not see this as a reflection on her, but on me and my parenting skills, which must surely be lacking if she is uncomfortable in such a situation.
And the fact that they both had more children than me and more to deal with than me, PND aside, made me feel completely useless.
I did discuss it with one of them afterwards who pointed out that behind closed doors she too has meltdown moments and feels like the worst mother ever. But in public she can put on a brave face - even among friends.
That's something I still need to master - or do I? Maybe that would be another way of pretending mental illness doesn't exist and at least by carrying on as I am I'm being true to myself.
In other news, was anyone else as depressed as me by the Cambridge study that showed most people think working mums (albeit full timers) damage family life? No one bothers to ask what we think of working dads!
And my dates with my husband were lovely - hurrah!
x