I am Mummy

This job? It is madness. Make that Madness - with a capital M.

There I was, slothing around, wondering how much I'd have to kick my body into gear before it became a place that would grow a person so I could be some body's mummy and the world thrusts on me 35 female people at varying degrees of development who ALL call me mum - in theory.

For a few nights every week, and some whole weekends, I am mother.

I answer the questions - 'can I watch TV? Who took my singlet? What's for dinner?' and on and on and on...

I dispense the tablets - 6am Esipram & Neximum, 8am Concerta & Strattera, 9pm Endep & Topamax and always - panadol, throat lozenges and sudafed.

I solve the problems - Who is taking you to netball? Who is picking you up? Who is using the computers and for how long? Where is your uniform?

I do the bedtime routine - teeth, toilet, bed. 'Lights out please.' 'One more minute - I'm nearly finished my chapter...'

I do the wake up thing - up, up UP! Good morning girls. Then the getting dressed, the breakfast, the getting out the door on time.

And the rest. Madness.

I have inherited not just one child but 35 teenage daughters who like me, roll their eyes at me, laugh with me, argue with me, do what they're asked, hide from their chores, speak nicely to me, swear at me, ask permission, sneak around and want me to stay - just until they graduate.

They drive me crazy and I don't sleep well at all but I like them. And I'm really going to miss them when I finish in 4 weeks. They're my girls too now.