I work four days a week. This is what my "day off" with the kids looks like.

I’ve heard it all before. Mothers have the hardest AND easiest job on earth. Now that I’m actually working “part-time” I have an opportunity to compare what the day of a SAHM looks like, right next to my coffee swilling, keyboard bashing day. It’s not pretty. People have been known to indulge in heavy drinking after spending the day with us. Another friend has observed it as “spending your entire day from preventing little humans from killing themselves.” Hats off to you mums.

5:30am Tom up (1.5 years old).

6:00am Abby up (3.5 years old, and despite having gone to bed at 9pm the night before).

7:00am Kids insisted on pancakes. I deliver.

8:00 Laundry load 1.

8:30am House evacuation (if you are unfamiliar with this process google Michael McIntyre).

9:00am Abby speech therapy lesson.

9:15am Type out passionate work email on my iphone (probably a bad idea) – gets stare from therapist judging me for being one of “those” parents. Announce that I’m thinking of switching therapists at the end of the lesson.

9:30am Go to get my glasses fixed (nose pad fell off and for the last 24 hours it’s been akin to wearing a clothes peg on my nose).

Watch funny fails of sleep-deprived mums. Post continues after video. 

10am Bank a cheque (from the US treasury – someone tell me this isn’t a hoax and the IRS actually decided to GIVE us money back?)

11am Drive to meet my cousin Wendy’s for a playdate.

11:30am Sit in the carpark feeling sorry for myself as Tom has fallen asleep and Abby hijacked my phone (in a bid to keep her silent) – I stare woefully at the dashboard wishing I was in the Bahamas sipping on a drink with an umbrella in it.

12:00pm Wendy runs around valiantly with the kids while I huddle underneath the outdoor heaters at the cafe. Wonder where she gets her energy from. Vow to stop drinking so much booze and coffee.

12:15pm Order a piccolo.

2:00pm Drive back “home”.

2:30pm Pull into the woolies carpark, change a poo, grocery marathon.

3:30pm Come home, realise Tom has swiped a punnet of strawberries that we didn’t pay for, think about returning for a second, shrug and move onto more pressing matters, namely the 7am pancake experiment which is now covered in ants.

4:00pm Unpack, prep dinner.

4:30pm Laundry load 2.

5:00pm Blast Taylor Swift's "Love Story" while trying to work the pressure cooker - a silent tear rolls down my cheek at the proposal bit.

5:15pm Tom comes over and touches my cheek cos he thinks I'm sad. His look of concern morphs into glee and he starts slapping me in the face.

5:21pm Pouring out my last drop of Dan Murphy's order. Rinse and repeat.

5:35pm Finally get the pressure cooker to work and the lamb shanks I've been waterboarding is basically a metaphor for the election. Even though it was sold to me like Bill Shorten (organic, juicy and tender) it ended up being a Malcolm Turnbull (bland, with none of the expected game-iness) with the texture of Pauline Hanson.

6:00pm Kids throw politicians onto the floor. Refuse to eat.

6:30pm Clean up.

7:00pm More vino.

7:30pm Discover last week's sandwich under the couch.

8:00pm DADDY IS HOME HALLELUJAH - long hot shower cone of silence, meditation, contemplation etc.

8:05pm Abby bursts in and asks to play snakes and ladders.

8:30pm Trip over the great wall of Duplo obviously built to trap me in the bathroom. Spend 10 minutes picking the blocks generously scattered around the house.

9:00pm Lie in bed listening to the melodic sounds of Abby yelling out "more milk" alternated with "my neck is itchy."

If you ever feel like Isobel, you should probably listen to This Glorious Mess, the parenting podcast with Andrew Daddo and Holly Wainwright that tells it like it is