The morning mission: time out...for me

At the best of times I struggle to get myself out the door on time for, well, almost anything.

I am always a good five to 10 minutes late, which is not the end of the world but, when you add small children to the mix, five minutes can rapidly stretch to 20.

So, when I went back to work last week, I knew I would have to be super-organised. The two days a week I would spend in the office would require rising at 6am, I decided.

That way I could have a shower and do my hair and makeup before anyone else was out of bed.

That little bit of preening and pampering would put me in the right frame of mind for my day as a working woman. I was quite looking forward to leaving the house smartly dressed and coiffed.

But on day one I was ambushed. I managed to get into the shower without interruption, but emerged to find a grizzly Miss Three who had woken early.

Hoping to improve her blood sugar levels - and her mood - I served her breakfast, which she fussed over until Miss Five woke, who then also demanded breakfast. By which time hubby was in the bathroom doing his morning ritual.

So I adjusted my plan. I would put myself to the back of the queue.

I would make the girls' lunches, pack their bags, do their hair and put their sunscreen on. Then I would set them up with colouring-in books and felt pens, which would keep them quietly occupied while I transformed myself.

But, inevitably, after breaking up several arguments, five minutes before my planned departure time I was still in my dressing gown.

I gave my hair a quick blast with the hairdryer, leaving it decidedly frizzy, and scraped on mascara. I then cobbled together an outfit that I hoped would be suitable and rounded up the troops.

"Shoes. Hats. Bags!" I shrieked at the girls before bundling them into the car, reminding them that if there were any arguments over which seats they were sitting in I would be much displeased. With hurried goodbyes Miss Five was deposited at school and Miss Three with her carer.

I zoomed into town and, after parking the car, took a moment to draw a long, deep breath and inspect my clothing for cat fur and small fingerprints.

Then waltzed into work, cool as a cucumber, five minutes late.

Not bad, all things considered.