I'm ashamed of my worst habit, but I don't know how to stop

There's nothing I love more than a good gossip.

At the time, that is.

And then when the dust settles and I'm alone without a fellow gossip to encourage me, I berate myself for my pass-remarkable nature and inability to bite my tongue.

But what bothers me most is the fact that my desire to gossip and pass comment on the lifestyle of other mums is likely born of a personal insecurity which I should address, but don't.

As the old adage goes – what Suzy says about Sally says more about Suzy than it does about Sally.

I'm self-conscious of my age, my appearance and the fact that I never seemed to have my life as together as these younger mums do, even when I was their age.

Having children which range in age from 15 to three means I'm significantly older than the mums I meet at Nathaniel's nursery group.

And instead of giving myself the same advice I give my teenage daughter – say nothing unless you have something nice to say – I take note of perceived flaws and remind myself to fill my pals in later.

What I gain from this is, I don't know.

At the time, I'm seeking confirmation that these ladies are deserving of my scorn, but know deep-down I'm jealous of their youth, their careers and their seemingly flawless lives.

And what's worse is, I think my friends know this.

I'm a realist, and I know nobody sails through life, but these women do make me wonder.

And instead of celebrating their triumphs, seeking advice or offering my own words of wisdom as an older mum, I judge, scorn and eavesdrop on conversations while stockpiling lists of remarks to criticise at a later date.

Despite a couple of women who truly do deserve my ire based on remarks that made about stay-at-home mums, the vast majority of these mums are warm and welcoming.

I'm jealous and that's the bottom line.

I think it's time I brought forward my New Year's Resolution.