I sometimes wonder if I might not be the greatest Mummy in the world.

I try my best, but I’m easily distracted, have a terrible memory, and sometimes just forget that there are things that mummies are supposed to do.

The problem has been eased significantly by moving Belle to a school with no school uniform, (because of a house move, not just laziness), but despite no longer having that weekly Sunday evening panic attack, racing against time to get uniform dry on radiators, I still find myself rather lacking.

Monday mornings are particularly bad. This Monday, making Belle’s packed lunch, (a job I loathe), it occurred to me that I didn’t know where her lunchbox actually was. I looked in the cupboards, around the kitchen, but to no avail. I eventually found her schoolbag in the downstairs toilet and there it was, three day old sandwich crusts and all.

I felt bad and hoped nobody was looking. Isn’t this something a Good Mummy would deal with on a Friday afternoon? I rummaged in her bag, and pulled out a scrunched up letter, requesting cake donations for the previous Friday, and a set of maths homework. I felt worse. I looked over my shoulder guiltily, even though I knew no one was there. Checking for letters and homework is definitely something a Good Mummy does regularly.

Ah well, at least this way I give her a new excuse. “No Sir, the dog didn’t eat my homework, I just have a hopeless mother.”

We can’t all be perfect can we?