A few weeks ago, while the boys were machine-gunning during tea, the Labrador puppy was busy chewing my husband’s slipper and the border terrorist had once more taken herself for a walk across the fields, my six-year-old daughter asked me a question. “Can I have a sleepover this weekend?” “Absolutely not,” came my reply as I desperately rummaged in the freezer for something to give my husband for supper.
She promptly ran upstairs and threw herself on her bed. Later that evening I calmly explained that weekends are for relaxing – a time to switch off from school and enjoy your family. “But that’s boring,” she said. I was not about to admit that the world of sleeping bags, late night whispering and midnight feasts fills me with utter dread. Next came the familiar words, “Annabel’s mum lets her have sleepovers.” “Well, she is Super Mum,” I replied curtly.
Since then Super Mum has featured regularly throughout our day. I am constantly asked why I cannot reach the dizzy heights of Super Mum. In fact, I am lagging way behind her. Super Mum has four children ranging from 9 years to 1 year. She also cares for a hard working husband, two dogs, one hamster, a cat and a pony. Each morning, she is up at dawn to go down to the yard to muck out the pony and then back to no doubt rustle up a full English breakfast for the rest of her brood. She is young, slim and smiley even when she is laden down with school bags with a baby under one arm. She holds down a part-time job and she is on the dreaded ‘Committees’. I hear that Super Mum prepares the most wonderful, nutritious pack lunches each day, which are the envy of the rest of the class. After school, Super Mum collects her children, sports a warm smile and whisks them off to an impressive range of clubs, no doubt offering them a slice of homemade apple cake in the car to keep them well-fuelled.
This weekend, my daughter and two of her school friends are off to Super Mum’s for a sleepover. I was assuming that she had cleverly managed to off-load her other children for the night. Not a bit of it. Another three more will be fun, she laughs. I wonder how she does it. Why is she not the teeniest bit stressed or popping the odd Panadol at the thought of it? Because, of course, she is Super Mum. She was born to be the perfect wife, mother and pet carer. Instead of being green with envy every time I see her, I have now decided to embrace her. We need mothers like Super Mum to keep us on the straight and narrow and to remind us all to stop shouting, stay calm and enjoy our merry broods. But please, please spare us the sleepovers.
