Back in January there was a comment about me online (after my grilling on Four Live) about my continuing to breastfeed Charlie at 3.5 years, saying I must be
"a saint, she gives so much of herself to those children".
This has echoed in my head ever since, on my more put-upon days when I felt martyred at attending to every whim of two small children I thought of it as a badge of honour:
"But I'm a saint, I'm sacrificing so much of myself for them".
But I am uncomfortable with it now, I feel why should I be praised for doing what I do, when there are thousands of women doing far more every day, not writing blogs, and not getting any recognition for it.
Women who are getting up on cold, dark mornings to make breakfasts, find school uniforms and drive kids to school.
Women who are kissing their babies goodbye with heavy hearts and going to work.
Women dealing with post-partum depression.
Women parenting alone.
Women mothering large families.
Women handling the after-effects of a difficult birth.
Women who are dealing with uncooperative spouses.
Women dealing with illness, either their own, or their families.
Women caring for elderly relatives
Women caring for children with special needs.
Women trying to make a new life for their families in Ireland, and dealing with racism every day.
Women stretching the budget at the end of the week to feed large families.
Women whose children are being bullied in school.
Women who don't get an hour to themselves from one week to the next.
Women trying to study for qualifications as well as keep their family going.
Women who did not get a Mother's Day/birthday card.
Women who are putting on a brave face every day for whatever reason.
They are the saints, not me.