School holidays

It hadn’t even gone 9am on the first day of the school hols and I’d been driven round the bend.

A ‘rugby widow’ I was flying solo and had a full day of back-to-back children’s events meaning the twins would skip their sleep.

Adding to the chaos was a call from the real estate agent asking if potential buyers could be shown round my dad’s place which we were currently house-sitting. So, when a break between downpours permitted, I sent the troops out to stomp in puddles while I shot around hoovering up the breakfast carnage.

But no sooner had they got their boots on, then they were trapsing mud back inside - messing it faster than I could clean.

Now I’d spent most of a sleepness night before vowing to slow down and enjoy the kids rather than spend all day yelling but the insistent pull toward the door once again took over. By now my stress levels were so high I found myself wondering when was too early in the day to have a stiff drink.

Finally everyone was loaded into the car and I set the alarm, only to be informed by my resident nark that his younger brother had soiled his pants. Back inside for a quick change, and after a ten-minute frantic search for my ever-elusive keys we were finally on the road 20 minutes late. Still fuming at my kids’ behaviour, I drove in silence.

But it was the startling sight of a wayward cow wandering off the state highway onto our road which changed the tone for the day.

Visions of what could happen prompted me to change pace.

Reversing I hemmed the cow into a nearby stockyard entrance and herded the emaciated beast through the nearest gate. Walking back to the car I looked up to see three little faces, mouths agape, peering through the steamed windows at the bizarre sight of their mother, who’d been nothing short of a monster minutes earlier, now playing farmer Jones.

Somehow this incident had a calming effect on us all and I drove on now 30 minutes late, but happy in my newfound status as good Samaritan cow-cockie.

After fielding questions about the cow all the way to Cade’s rugby we watched him play before a quick, albeit awkard, car-park change from our muddy clothes into suitable attire for Dorothy the Dinosaur.

They say that having a good laugh is the ultimate relaxant and watching the sheer joy on my kids’ faces reminded me what it’s all about.

Our last stop was a fifth, circus-themed, birthday party and, while the kids had a ball stuffing their faces and tearing about, I began to feel normal as other mums regaled me with tales of trying to get their lots out the door in the mornings.

Finally, our hectic day almost over, we piled into the car a lot happier and headed home (noting the cow had vanished from the paddock) where the kids burnt off their sugar highs outside in the mud, while I put dinner on.

And then, with a contented sigh, I sat down with my not-so-stiff drink.