Guilty!

Like most working mums I feel guilty. All. The. Time.

I work four days a week on a TV mag. My job is not hard. It does not pay brilliantly, but the little money I make is needed and I am grateful.

I leave for work at 7.45 am and collect the boys from their (wonderful) childminder at 6.30pm; we all get home about 6.45pm, just in time for bed and bath at 7pm.

I feel bad for not being a good enough mum. And I feel bad for not being a good enough journalist. And I feel bad for not being a good enough working mum. I look at other working mums and wonder how they do it. How do they get to work without snot on their shoulders, with their hair looking nice? How are they not dropping with tiredness? How have they got enough holiday left to spend time with their husband, instead of just taking days here and there to cover childcare?

Here are all the things I feel guilty about...

*Sending the boys to a childminder. Every Monday Thing One cries and says he doesn't want to go. He loves it when he gets there, though. Which leads me neatly on to...

*Our childminder is too good. Seriously. She's brilliant. The school holidays only started two weeks ago and she's already taken her kids to museums, paddling pools, parks and they've even held the Olympic Torch. I can't compete! On my day off, Thing One complains that going to Tesco "just isn't exciting Mummy". He's got a point.

*Going to Tesco/cleaning/tidying/doing laundry/yawn on my precious day off.

*Not doing enough cleaning/tidying/laundry/yawn on my precious day off.

*Putting too much energy into my job and being reluctant to give it up.

*Not putting enough energy and effort into my job and not being successful enough.

Ooh and I could go on and on and on. There are also the things that come up as and when. Yesterday morning Thing One was being particularly stroppy and I spent a lot of time trying to calm him down before breakfast. When I eventually got on the train to work (missed my normal train, natch), I realised though I'd got Thing Two dressed, I'd barely interacted with him at all. Poor little mite.

Anyway, I don't want this to be a self-pitying rant. I just wanted to get it off my chest. And to appeal to all those other working mums out there - how do you do it? All tips gratefully received...