When I woke up I knew it was going to be one of those days. I felt unsettled. On edge. In fact I’d been struggling with these feelings for a few days. I was feeling that constant niggling frustration that comes from being a stay-at-home mum, by dealing with two highly illogical mini-humans with strong opinions about everything, and a house that was ALWAYS ALWAYS messy and the cycle of cleaning, cooking, and trying to do things separate from the children to supposedly be a constructive member of society, but at the end of it all, feeling like everything was half-done. Half-baked. Nothing really achieved. It was a Wednesday, and my eldest has swimming at 9:45 am, at a swim-school around 20 minutes away from home. Trying to get two kids under 4 out of the house by at least 9:15am is no easy task. On top of that, there were still the remnants of the destruction wreaked on the house by the kids from the day before. Plus dinner dishes not done because well, …