Chaos compounds the mess in my mind. A jumbled mix of thoughts, plans and a never ending TO DO list. He slowly explains the meaning behind his felt tip pen drawing. Meanwhile the details of my day slip away to make space for this lovely but largely unproductive information.

She is displeased with my service. Her face crumples, the tears flow. The crime? I helped her carry her scooter, she didn’t want my help. It’s quickly apparent that she will not calm down immediately. Her distress knows nothing of urgency of appointment.  My patience stretches.

My eldest sighs, I worry, is he neglected? I resolve to listen more. To prioritise him even when the smaller two dramatise their woes. He starts explaining his latest Minecraft build. I reprimand my brain for refusing to engage with this topic. I cannot will it to experience excitement over pixelated buildings blown apart by non existent dynamite. I settle for encouraging noises and a promise to myself to find fascination in his passions.

I throw pasta into a pan. Green equals healthy so pesto it is. Meanwhile a mound of children writhe in the middle of my dining room. The smallest is on the bottom.

Punctuating this are cuddles, kisses, excited smiles, silly jokes. Moments of joy.

I have pondered the possibility of this chemical reaction being down to genetic design. That I experience pure bliss in my children’s happiness in order to ensure our species survival? Whilst I ponder this someone draws a picture of a robot on my wall, in Sudocrem.