Mothers' Day
When I see Madonna in the glossies, with her happy marriage to Guy Ritchie, and her perfect pigeon pair, I feel jealous. I keep imagining life in that huge house in London with chefs, cleaners, personal trainers, and nannies to take the sweat out of family life.
Madonna appears to be a mother in control of her world. Whether shes a good mum, I cant say. Nor do I have any idea how much time she spends with her children. But, as an icon to modern motherhood, she seems pretty cool - epitomising the idea that you can manage it all if you have the guts and - crucially - the money.
Its a hard virtual reality to live up to, of course. I doubt Madonna has spent the last two weeks sleep-training a toddler and coping with a sick child as I have. No doubt she has night nannies to ensure that she gets her beauty sleep, and day nannies to mop up and entertain. And Madonnas ego is probably too big to struggle with my biggest problem to do with leaving my children guilt.
When I had my first child I didnt expect to be swamped with this emotion. I assumed Id go back to my exciting full-time job and relinquish the care of my son to a nursery. I was blissfully naive about the precarious world of childcare, and shocked by the physical and emotional drain that shift work and motherhood had on me. My partner and I tried to juggle demanding hours and international travel assignments, but I ended up taking responsibility for domestic arrangements while at the same time trying to hold my position in the pecking order at work.
I felt very alone. We considered paying someone to be a surrogate parent (not an option: house too small, too costly, why have children?) At the end of the day, I felt torn in so many directions that, after the birth of my second child, we decided one of us had to stay at home. And that one was me.
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