As a working mother, I know that we can't 'have it all' – and there's nothing wrong with that

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a ballerina, a model or a necklace. I would have three children (one boy and two girls), live in a palatial house and marry a millionaire. My constraints may have been skewed but the adult world was my oyster.

Fast-forward thirty years and the reality is somewhat unrecognisable from my expectation. I thought I could be anything I wanted, juggle work and parenting and be the most attentive wife possible whilst building a tidy nest egg.

Sometimes I laugh at how misguided I was – sometimes I want to cry.

When I became a mother, I didn’t just give birth to a child, but to a whole world of guilt, self-doubt and sacrifice. Don’t get me wrong, my children have coloured my world in every hue of joy and unconditional love, but it has doubtless come at a cost.

Sadly there is a common uncomfortable thread that ties at least most mums together. They feel torn, think they’re getting motherhood wrong somehow and feel like they’re doing a disservice to their career, their children, their partners or all of them.

Whether it’s a juggling act trying not to drop any balls or a tug of war being pulled in different directions, motherhood certainly feels like one crazy circus act.

The first myth that was completely debunked for me around the time I found myself driving my eldest on the motorway at 3am to induce sleep, whilst simultaneously singing nursery rhymes and cursing the world, was that life would never be what it was.

Then there was the time we spent five hours in paediatric A&E because of a microscopic rash that completely disappeared by the time the doctor eventually saw us, where we swiftly ascertained that this parenting lark is not easy.

Yet perhaps the harshest lesson I learnt as I clawed my way back onto the career ladder was that mothers cannot have it all. We all endeavour to be good parents. The bottom line is, we want the very best for our children. But what exactly the litmus test for that is and how we strike a balance between all the conflicting demands in our life is quite the conundrum.

I know I’m not alone when I admit that my CV doesn’t read quite how I intended. When I studied at university and as a post-graduate I didn’t factor in three maternity leaves and career-altering decisions about childcare versus income demands. Becoming self-employed was an exhilarating but uninvited path, down which I have been travelling for eight years whilst watching many a former colleague sprint past me.

In spite of all my ambition I can palpably feel the glass ceiling above me, curtailing the pond from which I can reasonably fish for work.

My children are my number one priority and so I am prepared to forfeit racing to the finish line for the role I can play in their lives. Except I often feel like I've traded in my wholesome mother act for a more stressed, more ratty, more overworked model.

So who is winning exactly? When I'm at work I'm pining for home; fretting over whether the children remembered to give in their homework or their sandwiches are in the right lunchboxes. Then when I'm at home my mind wanders to the story I pitched last week or the feature that needs finishing.

I'm not supermum for having a demanding job and three demanding children. I just do both tasks less than perfectly and hope for the best.

I'm often told that this is modern motherhood; that women of today are under greater pressure than ever to contribute financially whilst ensuring their children are not only fed and watered but socially fulfilled and thriving academically and personally.

Except as I stare in the face of the endless to-do list all it does is make me feel inadequate. If I don’t to extra maths with my seven-year-old, enroll him in three varied after-school activities and recite Shakespeare with him at least once a week, it will be my fault entirely if he doesn’t make it to Oxbridge. If I don’t go for the promotion at work or offer to stay late three nights next week to support a special project, I may as well kiss my career goodbye. If I don't find time for date nights and cook my other half wholesome meals that we can devour together over a candlelit dinner while we share the stories of our day, will my marriage even survive?

And somewhere in there I'm supposed to look after me. That is the funny part.

Maybe it is a bitter pill to swallow accepting that mothers cannot have it all, but maybe it's also our saving grace. Trying to be everything to everybody is a recipe for disaster which will leave everyone vying for a piece of me feeling decidedly short-changed.

So, mothers everywhere, I urge you to take stock, quit setting yourself up for a fall, prioritise and enjoy the ride. Life is too short, so be kinder to yourself.

I don't believe that mothers can do everything, but I do believe that they can do anything.