Q I’m going on a city break for a long weekend with two girlfriends (both of whom have children) and one is insisting that she has to do the school run before catching the flight. Her husband could do it for once, but she won’t even ask him. Getting a later flight will mean we will lose nearly a day in Lisbon and it seems a waste of a day off work. What would you do?
A Your friend is clearly suffering from a case of perfect-mother syndrome. Joining the Hood (the Motherhood) is a tough initiation — sleepless nights, mastitis, stretching your birth canal the customary 5km … But these agonies pale in comparison with the one-up-womanship that takes place at the school gates. There is no female equivalent of the word “macho”, but there should be — “femcho”, perhaps? — because women can be very competitive.
It begins when mums vie for bragging rights on having the most “advanced” rug rat at toddler groups. The ones I attended were particularly rivalrous. Tristan may have gobbledygooked at five weeks, but Anastasia came out of the womb playing concert piano, having mastered Sanskrit en route.
“I only wish that China didn’t sleep so much, then I could play with her more,” a member of the earth-mother mafia once boasted over the Play-Doh.
To a woman who hadn’t slept for four years, this was a little like a supermodel complaining that she can’t keep the weight on no matter what she eats. “Really?” I pleaded. “What with breastfeeding and bed-wetting, doesn’t the getting up five or six times a night kinda get to you?”
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“China and India are fabulous sleepers,” she said, looking down her nose job at me. “It’s all in the parenting. You must take control.”
I had only recently given birth to my second baby. I couldn’t even take control of my urine flow.
By primary school the competition had intensified — ballet, ice-skating and Latin tutorials until teatime … A working mum who’s too busy to ferry children to and from after-school activities is tut-tutted about behind her back.
High school speech days are chock-a-block with women who should go to the vet’s to get their claws done. “Are you helping your son to extend creatively?” a glossy mum once asked me after her boy had won every prize.
“Um, he’s got an earwax deposit you could sculpt with,” I said.
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“Are you improving his gross motor skills?” she asked.
“Well, I drive him to school every day in a second-hand rust bucket,” I said. If looks could kill I’d have been vaporised on the spot.
Of course, what I now know is that it’s pointless even trying to be a perfect mother because your kids will only grow up to whine: “Why didn’t you screw me up more when I was young? I’ve got nobody to blame now!”
Perfect mums only exist in American sitcoms. If a woman raises her kids to the age of 16 without them becoming incel maniacs or Trump voters, well, she deserves a mothering medal.
Perhaps point out to your pal what a bad role model she is for her children. A British Pregnancy Advisory Service survey revealed that almost three quarters of young women felt the pressure to be a perfect mum had turned them off parenthood. Young women are so desperate not to get pregnant that they’re practically putting condoms on their vibrators.
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If your perfect-mum pal still refuses to give up one lousy school run then you and your other friend should just go ahead and book your flights and she can join you later — do not indulge her Stepford-wife nonsense.
I can’t agree on a trip with my new partner
Q I’m in a new relationship after a midlife divorce, and everything was so easy and perfect for me and my new man until we tried to book a holiday. We have completely different ideas — he wants to lie on a beach for a week and I want an adventure. We can’t seem to agree and now we have nothing booked for the summer. What do we do?
A When shopping around for the right boyfriend you’re bound to end up with a bloke you hadn’t quite bargained on. Why? Well, it’s a rule of nature that opposites attract.
Take my ex-boyfriend. I read Jane Austen; him, Jack Kerouac. I liked gastropubs with sharing boards and quirkily named craft beers; him, karaoke clubs. I loved him … while he loved my best friend, it turned out. I’m just hoping that they have something in common — syphilis.
At least in your case a compromise is possible. Indulge him with a fly-and-flop holiday, but only as a reward for undertaking a more adventurous excursion with you. Men love a challenge, so why not dare him? His need to win means he’ll probably end up exhaustingly intrepid and it will be you wanting the beach break.
Make it happen
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Why not make your holiday half and half? The Mediterranean is blessed with coastal spots and islands where you can combine nature-packed exploring with a few days’ recovery on the beach. Take Corsica, the rugged French island with hiking, mountain-biking, horse riding and via ferrata mountain trails. Go in the cooler extremes of summer, June or September, to avoid hiking uphill in 35C heat before heading to the coast for the soporific beach resorts and dreamy vanilla sands. Original Travel can arrange a week from £1,935pp, B&B, including flights, car hire, guides and a boat trip (originaltravel.co.uk).
If you have a bit more budget, Hawaii is the ultimate thrill-and-flop destination. Pick one island, such as all-rounder Maui, where you can take a road trip to the jungly eastern side and camp, or climb a volcano in time for sunrise, then spend a few days at one of its idyllic golden-beach resorts. Or take longer to tour the wider archipelago — Trailfinders has an 11-night, three-island itinerary from £2,839pp (trailfinders.com).
Do you need Kathy’s help with a travel problem? Email us at [email protected]
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