All posts tagged: mother’s day

There’s a Difference Between Humility and Self-Deprecation. Just Sayin’…

My mum sent me a text last week. It made me feel twice my height and warmed me from the chest outwards. I guess I’m going to have to share it with you now… (Sorry mum, I know it was intended for my eyes only!) “Hey Claire, I want to express how I see you as a beautiful, stunning, gorgeous woman with beautiful long flowing golden hair, such incredible blue sparkling eyes and milky skin – which are all your assets. Enjoy being you, as you are perfect the way you are!” Gah! Did I mention it also made me a little teary? A funny thing happened when I sat down to write this piece. I wanted to share the beautiful message my mum sent me, to show how wonderful she is, but there was a reticence to include those descriptions of how she sees me. “Wouldn’t that be big-noting yourself?” the voice in my head said. How are you at taking compliments? Me? Rubbish. Someone says, “I love your outfit!” and I’m reflexively muttering, …

The “I Can’t Wait to Get My Body Back” Lie of Pregnancy

“I can’t wait to get my body back!” This is the most common statement you will hear of late coming from the lungs of this, your 36-weeks-pregnant correspondent. I’m ready.  I’m sick of myself.  I’m counting down.  And four weeks is a lifetime! Pregnancy is a beautiful, miraculous thing but there comes a point when supporting a watermelon-esque belly cantilevered at your midway point (can someone confirm that I still have legs – I haven’t seen them in so long!) gets plain old.  And did I mention the swollen ankles, indigestion, fatigue, stretch marks, weight gain and the looming promise of who-knows-how-many-hours of grueling labour? (Pity my husband – he listens to these laments often enough!) And so, with more than a sprinkling of self-pity and self-loathing, I say, “I can’t wait to get my body back!” There’s something wrong with this way of thinking though – mostly because it reveals a mind conditioned by the media’s warped representation of women and their bodies.  The glossy magazines present pictures of pregnant celebrities and supermodels with …

The Chosen Mum

Being a mum has a way of pointing a very powerful microscope at all our inadequacies before publishing the results in the ‘How To Be A Bad Mother’ review. We celebrated Mother’s Day yesterday and I suspect that some of us (no, no, not me!) felt a small twinge of guilt at all the Super Mum accolades. I’m no Super Mum: – My son watches a fair whack of television. Every day. – I wash his sheets when they look dirty (what’s an iron?). – A nutritious lunch means choosing grainy bread over white bread for his sarnies. – He needs a haircut (the jagged fringe-line is because I did try). – I’m not really into kids’ play so when my son asks me to “Build tower?” or “Blow bubbles?” I do, but reluctantly (oh, the guilt in confessing that…). – When he’s been really naughty (like, spitting Weetbix in my face and then flinging it on the walls – true story), I do the ‘time-out’ thing. Then, I squat down to his level for …