Finally, after eight whole weeks of summer madness, the kids go back to school today.
I'm up stupidly early in anticipation.
The uniforms are laid out and labelled. Pencil cases are stocked with newly sharpened pencils, pristine erasers and unblemished protractors.
I've shaken the sand out of their ears, blasted stubborn verruccas (my spell check thinks this should be verrucae) off their feet and had their hair cut.
We are good to go.
When I quit work after #3 was born, nearly eight years ago, I thought I'd be the perfect Mum.
The house would be filled with fresh flowers and the aroma of cup cakes baking. It'd be craft tables, not TV, laughter filled outings to museums and perfectly delivered introductions with eye contact.
How the Gods must have chuckled.
Instead, I was sucked into an exhausting Groundhog day of wiping orifices, peeling dried spaghetti and Rice Krispies off floors and ceilings and dealing with tantrums, all set to the soundtrack of The Wiggles and punctuated with endless re-readings of the Gruffalo.
So I totally get the latest trend (spearheaded by the movie Bad Moms) for tales of 'imperfect mothers.'
According to the Sunday Times, this Christmas's bestseller is going to be one of these, titled Hurrah for Gin.
Hurrah for Gin is based on a blog written by a 26 year old Mum of two who's on maternity leave from her job in advertising.
It's exactly the book I would have written ten years ago (when I was also in advertising and on maternity leave with a toddler and a baby). And it struck me that it's like the prequel to this blog.
(Except my book would be titled Hurrah for Chablis. My only saving grace was not having developed a taste for spirits).
And the title is perfect. Because when you're in the trenches of motherhood, alcohol provides those much needed oases of calm.
For me, a glass of wine could put the zing into a late afternoon playdate with a girlfriend, and the zen into post children's bed time. At the end of a long, frazzled day I could pour a glass of wine, dance around the kitchen and think yeah, baby, she's still got it.
But the problem with relying on vino, or gin, to relax, to de-stress, to feel adult, is that one day - maybe a decade down the line - you find that you can't relax, de-stress or feel adult without it.
And that's when you stop reading Hurrah for Gin! and start reading Mummy was a Secret Drinker.
So I do rather worry about yet another book which normalises relying on an addictive drug to get through the realities of everyday life. After all, I am the cautionary tale.
P.S. If you'd like a male perspective on all of this, then click here to check out my new friend, Makeittea.
And thank you, Makeittea, for your incredibly generous donation to my Justgiving page for breast cancer support (www.justgiving.com/fundraising/sober-mummy).