12/03/2012 17:39 GMT | Updated 12/05/2012 06:12 BST

Don't Tell the Kids...

I've not blogged for a while. I've been caught up in the whirlwind stages of a newborn whilst working and trying to make sure the other two don't feel marginalised because a baby has turned up.

I get a lot from my children. It is really hard work but it's supposed to be. For each one of them, I've breast-fed, boiled and pureed veg and tried to guide them and love them but not spoil them. It's a fine line, loving without damaging them and I'm sure I'll have done something that they will remember for the rest of their lives as "that moment where mum said... "

When I found myself on my own with two children, I really had to step up. When my ex couldn't help me financially, the kids still had to eat. The buck stops with mummy. I had to get friends round to look after them and get out there and earn. I really don't believe that it's a bad thing - it was at the time - but my son and daughter know that their mother has to go out and work. They know it's not just the preserve of the man and while they'd like me at home sometimes, they understand and that is an expectation I'm glad they have.

I have to admit, I enjoy going out to work. I love my job and it's nice to have some respite from thinking about the needs of little people all the time. Now they are older, it is ballet and piano and football and swimming. I run them around more, invariably having to figure out how to be in two different places at once. Most mothers have to do this. The multi-tasking that takes place would blow the mind of the 20-year-old me.

Last week I was at an event for International Women's Day run by the WIE network. There were talks and seminars by extraordinary women doing extraordinary things. During one of the talks I received a text that one of the kids clubs had been cancelled and I had about two minutes to sort out someone else picking him up. As I turned to my left, the girl next to me was furiously texting - in the exact same predicament.

The new baby is now six months and I have a confession to make. I find it a little boring. I love him and he's cute and I am happy to get up at 3am and rub Bonjela on his gums but my life is on hold at the moment. It is difficult to admit beause I know I am so lucky to have him and he is amazing but the day-in-day-out humdrum of bottles, nappies, mushy food and teething drives me up the wall. I look at the food I'm shoveling into his mouth and I feel like that is what is happening to my brain. I can't ever imagine being at work the way I was before. It feels like a distant memory.

Another friend who has just had her first baby called up and talked round the subject for ages before eventually coming clean. "ITS REALLY BORING". Being a new mother can be very isolating. It's okay if you have the money or inclination to go to baby massage or take them swimming or to the cinema but it's often not possible.

When you make arrangements to get a sitter and look forward to an evening out it's very exciting. I planned to do that yesterday. A couple of hours before I was due to go out, the sitter cancelled. It wasn't the end of the world but it bloody felt like it. I wanted to sink a bottle of wine but you can't can you? What happens if something happens to one of the children in the night and I have to drive to the hospital half-cut? Not going to happen.

I know I'm lucky with my lovely healthy children so don't tell me off for being ungrateful just let me have a moan about it occasionally. And don't tell the kids...