So I've been feeling run down since around 1973. When I come home from work, all I want to do is lie on the couch and pass out. I'm tired all the time and I get sick at the drop of a hat.

But you know how it goes. You work full time, you come home and get the supper started while supervising homework. You play mediator to your kids' arguments. You take down the washing and fold it. You dish up supper and clean the kitchen. You run the bath and supervise bathing. You pick up after the kids. And then you start to write or carry on working after the kids have gone to bed. It's not exactly a restful life I'm leading.

Recently, I decided enough was enough with the feeling exhausted lark. I made an appointment at the doctor to get blood tests done. She tested for 2 things: anaemia and an underactive thyroid. I'd also had a high cholesterol reading last year, so we threw that in as well.

The results? My cholesterol is a teeny bit on the high side, but nothing to worry about really. As for the rest: All normal. Healthy as a horse. And other irritating cliches that encompass my robustness and general well-being.

Which confirms that I'm tired because I'm tired. I'm tired because I'm a mom.

I know I should be happy that I'm healthy. But to just feel icky all the time and for there to be no real reason behind it is bloody irritating.

Anyone else feel like this? Are you always tired? Or is it just me? Am I just pathetic?

"Mom, when you were my age, is this the way you imagined your life?"

Wow.

This from Son1, almost 13. He asked this while I was flying around the kitchen one evening, doing dishes, chopping veg for the supper and shouting at Son2 to stop bothering his sister. 

Short answer: oh hell no.

No, I didn't imagine it this way, I said to him. "Then how did you imagine your life, mom?" he asked. "Did you think it would be fancier?"

Fancier? Yip. I thought I would be an actor, or a doctor. I thought I would have a bigger (read: better) house, a more important career. 

Why do you ask, James? I asked him. "Because I'm thinking about what to do when I leave school and I'm looking at the people who are older than me, and I'm wondering whether they chose the lives they have."

Again: wow. Clearly, I'm forgetting that as I live my life and raise my children, it's not just the stuff that I say that affects him, it's the stuff that I do and how I react to things that really teaches them about life. 

I've just read this review of Elisabeth Bandinter's book, The conflict: how modern motherhood undermines the status of women. In it, she argues that having kids can be an excuse for not taking control of your life. As parents, we look at our lives as a series of obligations rather than choices: 

"... children deliver us from the pressure of our ambition, the shadows of our failures. I often think of Geoff Dyer’s brutal, bravura passage in Out of Sheer Rage. In describing his decision not to have children, he writes, “People need to feel that they have been thwarted by circumstances from pursuing the life which, had they led it, they would not have wanted; whereas the life they really want is a compound of all those thwarting circumstances. … That’s why children are so convenient: you have children because you are struggling to get by as an artist—which is actually what being an artist means—or failing to get on with your career. Then you can persuade yourself that children had prevented you from having this career that had never looked like working out. …"

While I continued to chop vegetables that evening, I told Son1 this: that no, I didn't imagine my life this way, but that I'm not unhappy with the way it turned out. That when he starts to wonder about what he wants to be, the important thing to remember is that sometimes, life has a way of just happening to you. That to keep a goal in mind, you can't just let things happen to you. You have to take control and remind yourself that this is your goal and that's where you want to get to. 

You'd think, after being a working mom for almost 13 years, that I'd be used to this by now.

You'd be wrong.

You know how when you don't like something, but you have to do it, you just push the horribleness of it to a corner of your mind that you don't access regularly, suck it up and just do it? That's what I do with having to work full time and parent. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I love my job. I love that working is part of me and that I'm able to say that my job is a passion. I love that I do it well and I believe that I'm a better parent because I work. 

But.

Sometimes, the realisation that I get to see my kids for all of 2.5 hours a day is just too much. 

It became too much this week. We'd all had a bit of a day: the kids had gone to holiday care for the whole day and were tired out. I'd had a hellish day fielding angry calls and emails about a web site makeover I'd managed. When it came to bath time, the kids (the younger ones anyway) were tetchy and screamy. So tetchy and screamy that they were told that there would be no story tonight and that they'd go straight to bed after bathing.

They lost it. Storytime in our house is sacred. We read every night without fail. Even Son1 scoots a little closer sometimes to listen in when it's a particularly interesting or funny story. 

Listening to them losing it sent me over the edge. And realising they'd go to bed sad, after not having access to me the whole day, sent me further over the edge. I cried right along with them. For the fact that I'd let them down, for the fact that I hadn't seen them for the whole day, for the fact that they were tired because I hadn't managed to get proper care for them that day. 

There's a happy ending to this story: there were apologies on both sides and we read a story after all. They went to bed happy(ish) and woke up smiling. 

It's bloody hard doing this working/parenting thing. 

Son1 goes to high school next year. At least, I hope he does. Because the application process is a special hell. It's nerve-wracking and stressful and a full-time job.

As I wrote in my piece on Parent24, some schools ask for certified copies of all documents, others ask for proof that your kid is a prodigy and still others require a dna sample. Ok. Not so much the last one, but you get that it's harrrrrd. 

The last day of term was the due date for application number 3. It's a miracle I survived:

- Night before: Get Son1 to write required letter saying how much he wants to attend said school. Much snot and trane over not knowing what to say in required letter. An hour later and it's done.

- Type required letter saying how much I want Son1 to attend said school. I get why it was so difficult for Son1. This school isn't actually our first choice, so it's an exercise in hyperbole and obsequiousness. Save letter to flash drive so I can get it printed the next day.

- Realise I need certified copies of all docs. Have copy of ex's id, but it's not certified. Phone ex, get him to drop id off at the school in the morning so I can get it certified on the way to handing application in. 

- Application day: Pick up id. Drive to Post Office. Get all docs certified. Proud of self now. Walk to car. Realise I've forgotten the flash drive with my letter at home. Drive home. Pick up flash drive. Drive to Postnet. Get letter printed. Proud of self now. Walk to car and sort through docs. Realise I've left Son1's letter at home. Drive home. 

- Drive to school. Drop off application. Get to work 1 hour and 45 mins late.

In the words of Dilbert: GAH!

I know. It's all my fault for not being more organised and getting all the docs together weeks ago. In my defence, I work full time, parent 3 kids and have a house to run. It's not like I'm sitting at home in the evenings sipping wine and eating bon-bons. 

One more application to go. It's due in May, which leaves plenty of time to get organised. Right? Right??? Of course, this one requires an unabridged birth certificate. Which means a trip to Home Affairs to apply for it. 

GAH!

"Sibling rivalry" is a stupid term. It implies competition. Which it's not. Well, not in my house, anyway. Son1, Daughter and Son2 just plain want to murder each other sometimes. No competition about it.

They bicker about everything: where they sit on the couch to watch the dvd. Who gets the biggest slice of pizza. Who gets to sit next to the working window in the car. (I know - we're a bit Jerry Springer with our dented, only-3-windows-working car...) 

90% of the time, the bickering turns violent. Not blood-spattering-violent, but there's pinching, or kicking, or holding by the neck. 

It's disturbing and irritating and boring. It spoils my whole day when it happens first thing in the morning. Mainly, because I can't be there to mediate every single argument. If I did, I'd have time for nothing else. And if I'm not there when the crime is committed, then I have no idea who to send to their room. 

I tend to make empty threats too. This morning, we were off to a school event that they had all really been looking forward to. When the bickering reached a crescendo while I was in the bath (why is it always when I'm on the toilet, or in the bath, or on the phone??), I marched out in my towel and declared that the outing was OFF.

Son1 had a hissy-fit of note. There was screaming, shouting, slamming and crying. Yes, he's 12. And he was having a tantrum. 

Geez.

Half an hour later, when they had all calmed down, I told them that they could go, if they promised not to argue again today. Because I'm scary like that. 

I know: I suck at this. 

Do your kids argue all the time? How do you handle it??

I go a bit mad once a month. And when I say mad, I mean barking, tree-licking, running around naked kind of mad. 

It's not good for the children, my partner or really anyone who comes within 50 metres of me. I need to do something about it.

Doctor's appointment or euthanasia? mmmmm. 

Another friend, another failed sleepover.

They giggled, they played, they ate, they drank. About 30 minutes before bedtime, the friend pressed a letter into my hand: 

"Please, aunty Janine, can I go home? Please please please."

Argh.

She was out of here by 9.30.

Is it really that revolting here? Am I really that scary?

That's it. No more sleepovers for a while. Only day time playdates from now on. My self-esteem can't take much more of this. 

Tanya, of Living & Loving and Dear Max fame, started this meme. It was too good to pass up:

My most embarrassing moment as a mom was when... I was in a supermarket, wheeling my son and 2 year old daughter around in the trolley, when the daughter announced loudly, appropos of, well, nothing: "MOMMY, YOU HAVE A FAT VAGINA."

The worst parenting advice I ever got was… When I took Son1, all of 8 days old, out for the first time, an old lady stopped me outside the elevator and said: "You know, they can get brain damage if you take them out this early." I wanted to bitch-slap her, but instead, I burst into tears.

The best parenting advice I ever got was… Children understand far more than you think. Just because they're pre-verbal, or don't have a huge vocabulary, you can still talk to them and treat them like a real person.

I wish they had have told me that being a mom… would help me grow up. I would've done it a lot sooner. 

My most frightening moment as a mom was when… Son2 was born and there was silence and a lot of doctors and nurses running around. I had to rely on the anaesthetist to keep me updated. He was fine, but he had an infection and didn't breathe there for a few seconds. 

My best mom blog is… tertia.org. Honest, irreverant. Heart that woman.

The most awkward question I get asked as a mom is… Why do you work outside the home instead of staying home with the kids? Ok, not so much anymore (it's a long story), but I used to get asked that a lot. Now, I'm single and bringing home alllll the bacon.

If I had to do anything over as a mom, it would be… to be more assertive much earlier on. It took me a while to realise I was in charge and no one else was going to fight in my kids' corner but me.

If I could advise new moms to do anything, it would be to… go with the flow. It's my mantra. 

The “non-essential” items that became essential were… baby powder and the magic potion that my pharmacy made up for nappy rashes.

The products that make me look as if I’ve had a decent night’s uninterrupted sleep are… Caffeine. I'm not a big products user, so a hot shower with some lovely smelly shower gel, a cup of coffee strong enough to stand your spoon in and some red lipstick tend to do the trick.

The things that have kept me sane as a mom are… writing, reading and Pink or Alanis Morrisette on full blast.

The one thing I’ll never do again as a mom is… stop reading to my kids. Just after I got divorced, I was depressed and stopped it for awhile. It's now a nightly ritual and they all love it. We cuddle on the couch and for while, nothing else matters.

I’d like to be remembered as the mom who… loved her children more than life itself.

Motherhood has changed me because I’m… more assertive, more of a giver, more full of love than I ever imagined possible.

Daughter invited her friend for a sleepover this weekend. They were both beyond excited at the prospect. Daughter has slept over at her friend on a few occasions, but the friend has never slept over at us. 

She arrived just after lunch on Saturday. They played up a storm, watched a dvd, ate junk food, went to the park, had supper, watched another dvd, played hide and seek and then went to bed, tired and happy.

They sat chatting for about an hour.

At 8.45-ish, I checked on them. Daughter was reading and the friend was fast asleep. I left them for another 15 minutes after which I went in to switch off the light. Friend was sitting up in bed, crying her heart out.

"What's the matter?" I asked. 

"I miss my mom!" she cried.

I tried to calm her down, but not too hard. I had the feeling that her mom would want me to phone her. When she dropped her off, she handed over the asthma pump, the anti-histamine medication and reminded her daughter that she knew her telephone number if she needed her. I got the feeling that the kid wasn't terribly confident about sleeping out yet.

So we phoned her mom and within about 30 seconds of speaking to her, the mom said she'd come and fetch her.

When she arrived, she hugged her tightly and said: "It's ok. You're ok." 

I wasn't offended, but I do have two problems with this approach:

1) The child is 9 years old. If she isn't used to sleeping out, then fine. But if she goes, then surely the goal would be to build confidence in her? Surely the mom should have tried to calm her down over the phone before jumping in and offering to fetch her?

2) Her comment when she arrived to fetch the child made me feel as if somehow, the failed sleepover had been traumatic. The kid had had a fantastic time. My take on it all is that she was tired and given the chance, she would have happily fallen asleep and all would have been well. But the mom made it seem as if she'd been through some kind of trauma. 

wth?

Am I taking this all wrong?

And the lesson we learned from all this? I suuuuuuuck.

The whole day was fraught. I was busy at work and during the day, two bombshells dropped: The first was an email to say I owed the medical aid a gigantic sum of money that I hadn't budgeted for. The other was the sudden realisation that I'd missed the deadline for son2's registration fee for big school next year - another semi-gigantic sum of money that I had budgeted for but had forgotten to pay.

Groan.

Phoned he-of-the-calm-nature, who said he'd come round in the evening and help make the toffee apples. Phoned the school, who said it was fine, I should just pay the next day.

Okay. Breathe.

We got home at the normal time and set about doing evening things. Taking washing down, folding it, packing it away, unpacking bags, bathing kids, making supper, doing dishes, reading stories. At about 7, we started the first batch of toffee apples. I used this recipe. 

Looks simple, don't you think? So simple, even a simpleton like me couldn't mess it up, right?

Wrong. 

We stirred. And then we stirred some more. And then we stirred a little bit more for luck. We kept dropping little bits into the bloody glass of bloody cold water, but would the mixture go hard? Huh-uh. Not a chance in hell. We stirred until our arms went numb. And then, when we tried dipping the first apple in, the mixture was a crystallised mess. 

Son1 came to investigate and enthusiastically said, "We can just spread it on."

And I blew up. "How many times did I say I couldn't do this?" I shouted. "Here's your entrepreneurial lesson: don't take risks like this, or you'll have nothing to sell in the morning!"

Needless to say, after that sterling performance, son1 ran into his bedroom and cried his little heart out.

Told you: I SUCK. 

He-of-the-calm-nature went to chat to son1 and then came to calm me down. I stood outside for a while, contemplating just how much of a crap parent I am. 

Then I walked back inside, apologised to son1 and said we'd try again. My plan was to do the next batch when he was in bed. If it didn't work, at least he wouldn't be there to witness the mayhem and I could make it up to him by producing some ready-mix muffins instead. 

As soon as he was in bed, the next batch went on. We stirred, but not as much this time. The bloody mixture dropped in the bloody cup still didn't go hard like it was supposed to, but at some point, earlier this time than the previous batch, we decided it was ready. An apple was dipped in.... And it was perfect. 

I called son1 and his face was a picture. So pleased, so excited. He couldn't stop talking about the next day and it took a while for him to calm down enough to be able to get back to bed. 

The moral of the story, though? 

I suck.