The kids are spending two nights in Maritzburg with their grandparents - a night with each set. I am missing them and am feeling uneasy and wracked with something feeling unpleasantly like guilt after a nasty incident last night. I threw my toys at home in response to just one too many messes to deal with. Actually I threw their toys. Not in the bin fortunately. (Did that once before. Retrieving a pack of playing cards from the bin is just not worth the dramatic impact.) Intead I scooped up the offending items in a plastic packet and hurled them into the outside room.

Granted, I over-reacted to that particular incident (3000 toys, and water, thrown all over the bathroom floor, not being cleaned up as requested). However, it came after a long succession of weekend incidents including (amongst the other mundane things like the endless streams of dishes and clothes to deal with) toy boxes pulled down all over the floor, a bath full of masticated carrot, and a hot-chocolatey mouth smeared purposefully on the new furniture.

The person who made up the expression "straw which broke the camel's back" either

• did not have kids, OR
• was not a Mom.

My secret fantasy: To live in a separate little house at the bottom of the garden and just go and visit them all from time to time.

In my fantasy house there are no dirty dishes left for someone else to deal with, there are no clothes and shoes lying around, beds are made in the morning, no toilets lurk unflushed or smeary, towels are hung up after use, cupboards are tidy, tables are clear, and things are put away when finished with.

Of course, in my fantasy house it is too quiet. Much too quiet. The silence is deafening.

But still.