This imperfect life cannot be beaten

MY FRIEND Penny has a cool pad. It has a nice, big balcony overlooking the sea, the sort of balcony designed to have sun loungers and big, boozy, colourful drinks with umbrellas in them.

Penny herself is the sort of cool chick you'd like to hang out with on those sun loungers " you could spend hours with her, easily sharing thoughts on life, love and everything in between.

Except that was then ... and this is now. Three years ago Penny had what I was convinced was the cutest little boy ever produced until (of course) my own. Then just a few weeks ago she had another, equally as cute.

Given that she was already fully stocked with small knitted booties and muslin wraps in every shade of blue, I thought instead she might like some photos taken of her two little men together.

I thought I'd take my own little man with me and make a morning of it. The problem with great ideas is that they seldom translate into reality.

I pictured a scene of domestic bliss - milky-skinned babes cooing contentedly, sharing toys and posing for the camera like angelic little models straight out of an Anne Geddes calendar.

I imagined hot cups of tea and shared stories of the joys of motherhood between frames and shots of big brother proudly placing soft kisses on top of his little brother's head.

I dreamed about the morning in the way some people dream about what they would do if they won lotto, and in hindsight both scenarios were offering the same odds of happening in real life.

What played out instead was a scene of domestic anarchy, started (I am ashamed to say) by my own little rascal.

Deciding earlier in the day that his 90-minute morning sleep would last for 20 instead, he arrived at Penny's place already cranky and overtired. Anyone with experience in small children will know that things can only go downhill from there.

With a small window to make the magic happen, we entreated the normally camera-friendly, super-compliant 3-year-old to sit and be cute with his brother.

Three-year-olds are an unpredictable bunch, and this one decided now was the time to discover his own mind and with it, a passionate reluctance to be anywhere near my camera.

Neatly timed with this, the newborn who has done little more than sleep since the moment he was born three weeks ago decided to wake up and refuse to settle.

Of course, this was entirely understandable given my own baby had at the same time started a background soundtrack to our shoot that resembled the sound of a large litter of piglets being executed. Out came the big guns; bribes for the 3-year-old, breast milk for the newborn and of rusks, chew toys, pacifiers and rocking devices for the 6-month-old.

To add to the chaos, I had brought my dog with me and at this point she started howling in response to being tied up. This in turn set off Penny's own dog, who had been locked out on the deck after he barked at my dog and woke the baby.

It was a sunny day. I suppose we should be grateful that someone was on the deck, even if it was the dog. Eventually we gave up and clung to our now-cold cups of tea as though they were life rafts in a stormy ocean.

As the sun shone down on that glorious deck overlooking the sea and we sat inside defeated, it occurred to me that even though this day and this life might not be the rose-tinted one I had imagined, I wouldn't have it any other way.