I want to be ... a mother like no other

When I am a mother I want to be able to listen. I want my children to be able to talk to me freely, knowing I will always be there.

I want to be able to understand. Let them say everything they feel, without fear of being laughed at or disbelieved.

I want to be trusted and relied upon. They will know I am always there for them to lean on, for comfort and support when things get rough.

I want to be fair. Not easily swayed by whining and moaning, but not dealing out unnecessary punishment.

I want to be able to be tough when I have to be. Making sure my children get all that they can out of themselves and life, without taking out all the fun.

I want to be comforting. To be there for them when they have a scraped knee, to be a shoulder to cry on when things don't work out.

I want to be positive. No unnecessary shouting, the glass is half full and all that.

I want to keep them safe. To teach them the skills and ideas to give them the foundation for a happy life without unnecessary pain.

I want to help them become good people. To teach them the values and work ethics that will help them to be trusted and liked.

I want to look after them. Pack their lunches. Make their dinner. Rub their backs when they're coughing. Hold their hair while they're sick.

I want to be respected and revered, like I respected and revered my mother. Always respecting her for how well she did the job of raising me.

Always aspiring to be like her.

I want to be cool - at least in their eyes. So they won't be embarrassed to bring friends round and won't feel like I'm a foolish old woman.

I want to let them live. Let them make their own mistakes, learn some of their own lessons, take some of their own falls, learn to face the consequences.

And when they grow older, I want to be their friend, their confidant. The one they tell their secrets to and come to when sad, alone, upset, angry or just in need of a chat.

And maybe when I'm old and grey, they in turn will become my friends, my protectors, my confidants, my shoulder to lean on.

Maybe when they're older and able to bear my weight.

Georgia Butt, Year 10, St Cuthbert's College