All posts tagged: mother’s day

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

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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

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“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

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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 …