3, 2, 1, and breathe....

I'm finally winding down for Christmas. Having not had any time off since starting back at work in July I'm in desperate need of a break. I've worked every spare hour going, rushing Ez and  Fonz through to naptimes so that I can take my well-worn seat at the computer and catch up on what I've missed while they've been awake. Young Daddy was going to work between Christmas and New Year, but he's booked the time off now, giving me even more opportunity to relax a bit.

But a leopard can't change her spots, and true to nature, here I am, planning every second of my time off. My to-do list is growing steadily, as I unwisely replace one type of work with another. Some things will bring me enjoyment I know. Even if sorting 16 months worth of baby clothes sounds like hell to you, having the space and opportunity to potter around at home and tackle some household chores is like a dream to me. But I must remember: everything in moderation.

There's no point working so hard to get some time off, only to cram it so full with stuff and pressure, that I don't take the time I really need to to sit back, breathe, and relax. I don't think I'll realise until I stop just how stressed I've been. The world has been moving at a million miles an hour, and it will take my brain a while to slow down. Taking some long, deep breaths, is going to feel so good.

Let's just hope when the adrenalin wears off, I don't come down with flu.

I'm not perfect

There, I said it.

I am a perfectionist. I discovered pretty soon after Ez and Fonz were born that being a mum and a perfectionist does not a happy mummy make. Now I'm finding out that being a perfectionist and a working mum is even worse.

I'm not content if I don't do things well, if I'm not achieving the best possible results I can. I work and work and work and work to get everything just right. Anything less than 100% makes me lose sleep. But right now I'm struggling to balance that with all the other demands on me. I need to be able to switch off when I'm with in mum mode, and just enjoy spending time with my babies. I only have this one chance to see them growing up and I feel like I'm throwing it away. I'm going to have to lower the unrealistic expectations I have of myself and my work or I'll self-combust with stress and anxiety.

I need to get to know the new, post-babies, working me.

Why do we put such pressure on ourselves? A recent survey has shown that mothers are much harder on daughters than sons, and suggests that it could be why women are much more self-critical than men. I know I've always given myself a hard time about most aspects of my life – I'm not thin enough, not exciting enough, not witty enough, not articulate enough, not creative enough.

But I want to stop. This isn't a legacy I want to leave to my children.