Life Style

Why mothers need to drop the guilt

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At the moment, I’m feeling guilty about being a burden on my children as I get older, which is how I became obsessed with the “Swedish death cleanse”.

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This may sound like a grizzly crime scene clean-up involving rubber gloves and vats of disinfectant, but it’s practical advice on culling possessions. I’ve just spent a manic week tossing out books, clothes, records… In my zeal, I accidentally recycled my boyfriend, only to find him in a bin bag in the boot at the op shop drop-off. Repacking my scattered possessions, I felt a pang of loss. Was I really ready to give away my Led Zeppelin LPs and vintage orange Penguin paperback classics? No. I was not.

Carting everything back home again, I pondered the Japanese method of decluttering, which encourages a woman to hold every object in her life and if it doesn’t bring joy, throw it away. Well, you know what doesn’t bring me joy? Decluttering. And maternal guilt. Guilt is the gift that just keeps on giving, so why not simply mark it “Return to Sender”?

Most of us stumble through parenthood as best we can and just hope we aren’t smashing our most precious gifts as we blunder around the furniture of family life. Well, you know what? Kids are resilient. Mowgli was raised by wolves, and even he survived, right? There’s no point worrying about being a perfect mum. Your kids will just grow up to whine, “Why didn’t you screw me up more when I was young? I’ve got nobody to blame now.”

So, this Mother’s Day, let’s stop being mummy martyrs and learn to put ourselves first, for the first time in our lives.

And if your guilt gland throbs, just think of the acres of toast you’ve buttered; the flocks of chickens you’ve roasted; the schools of salmon you’ve poached. Just think of all those tedious school speech days you’ve tried not to sleep through. (Speech days would be most effective in remote areas, like arctic base camps, when they’ve run out of sedatives and surgery is imperative.)

Motherhood is as easy as climbing Everest in high heels and hotpants, carrying a disco ball. Get your kids through their teens, happy and healthy, with no addictions, cult memberships or far-right tendencies and well, you’ve reached the summit.

So today, mums of Australia, I ask you to step forward to accept your medal for all those selfless services rendered. And any offspring reading this? Get off your iPad, buy your mum some flowers and go spoil that goddess rotten.

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