I think that when I am done bringing up my four boys I will be well qualified to take over as head of logistics for UPS, Tesco or any other multinational company who comes a knocking. Just organising my boys social lives is tricky enough, balancing parties, playdates and piano practice requires flawless organisational skills, and when it comes to moving them around it's like rounding up troops ready for combat.
During the Easter holidays we visited a friend for an afternoon, and yet the boys' luggage filled all the available space in our bus of a car, what with nappies, feeds, monster pushchair, assorted essential toys and spare clothes it looked as if we were moving in. And don't get me started on how much I took with me for a couple of days with my parents, suffice to say that I am sure the kitchen sink was in there somewhere.
This very morning we took tea with another friend where I was forced to commandeer her newly cleaned kitchen to prepare twin two's special milk, the only one he is prepared to drink without screaming all the way through a feed. Then he and his brother proceeded to scream for food, for cuddles and for no discernable reason, until I was forced to remove them, rudely leaving her to clear up the lovely lunch she'd prepared, rather than continue to inflict their unruly behaviour on her peaceful existence.
Now we have been invited to a party with a friend who lives on the other side of London, which for those who don't live in the Capital with its delightful traffic, is much the same as being invited to a party in Manchester in terms of travel time. I really want to go and I want to take my babies to see my friend as she is about to move abroad, but in order to fit this feat around their feeds I have to arrive before the start of the party, leave before the end and utilise her entire kitchen during it to organise feeds.
As I write this light dawns and I think I have worked out my babies' ulterior motives. Thanks to their list of demands that would make any diva blush, they will ensure that none of my friends will want to see me anymore, leaving me free to mastermind their exacting social schedule.