I have a friend who is a psychologist. The majority of her days are spent listening to the sort of experiences that only a trained professional could listen to day in day out. In the evenings she switches off and returns to her family to be a 'not-perfect' mother. Her words not mine.
Not perfect because none of us can be, even with years of professional training and extensive insight. It is normal to get things wrong. The attempts we make to put it right seem to be what really matters.
Recently I got it wrong, as I often do. I mistook a distressed, angry child for a naughty one. I failed to realise that the six year old losing her teacher after two years with him was now worried about losing her mother too.
I got angry, I criticised her bad behaviour, I said it was not acceptable until the words 'I don't want to lose you, Mummy' flicked a switch. I stopped and listened and the reasons for her distress came tumbling out.
Since then there have been many conversations between the two of us, lots of hugs, apologies and reassurance, and we are friends again. She has seen me get it wrong and worked hard to put it right. I hope she will be able to do the same one day.
So it is not so bad not being perfect, and what is perfect anyway?
