The mum guilt

I’m not saying this feeling is exclusive to mothers, but I can only write from my own perspective. And this week? It’s been bloody hard.

I already have my daughter less than parents who live together. Alice’s dad and I share her time, which means that when she’s with me, I want to squeeze every last drop of joy out of those days. Every giggle. Every cuddle. Every silly breakfast dance in the kitchen.

But this week, summer schedules collided with the realities of full-time shift work, and there was barely any flexibility. Out of the seven days she was with me, work took up most of them. Late shifts meant I had the mornings with her, but by the time I’d finished work the night before, my energy was… well, let’s just say “thin” is an understatement. And at 7am when she’s bouncing out of bed ready to seize the day, I’m trying to shake off the fatigue and not feel like I’m already letting her down.

It’s that creeping, relentless thing called parent guilt.

The voice that whispers you’re missing moments you’ll never get back. That you’re not doing enough. That you’re stretched so thin you’re not your best self for them.

But here’s the truth I’m trying to remind myself of: my presence matters more than my perfection. And sometimes, a sleepy hug in the morning and a laugh over toast counts just as much as a big adventure day out.

If you’ve been here too, I’d love to know, what’s your best tip for handling the guilt?

I’ve shared more about this week over on Instagram and TikTok, with mini vlogs that show the highs, the lows, and everything in between. Because this is real life and we’re all just doing our best 🫶