Abstract
![Formula][1] One wintry Sunday afternoon in the bad old days, I was part of the interview panel for prospective new partners in my husband's practice. We had just moved into the area and had no one we trusted to look after our 10-month old son, so he came with us. As I sat there in the consulting room, with number one son dibbling around behind me, the (eventually successful) candidate asked me if I minded that he was sucking the KY Jelly tube on the trolley. Not for the first time, the notion of the ‘good enough mother’ popped into my head. Donald Winnicott's ideas of being ‘good enough’ were my constant companion in the 1990s, kept the working-mother guilt at bay (just), and occasionally … [1]: /embed/graphic-1.gif
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