As you sit scrolling through your phone or tablet this evening, perhaps basking in the peace of your children finally being asleep and convincing yourself that kids aren’t complete assholes 90% of the time; I urge you to read a cautionary tale.

This is the tale of a stupid, stupid woman who once sat where you are.

A foolish smug woman, with two boys finally in a nice routine and were loudly snoring upstairs while she had a whole evening of mindless multi-screening between the tv and her phone. If she was feeling particularly sociable she may even look up from the screen from time-to-time to see if her husband was still in the room and breathing. Ah, the good old days.

Aaaaanyway, despite painting a picture of being the perfect wife and mother, this woman had been feeling a bit ‘meh’ about her day-to-day life. She was trying to juggle her job, motherhood, being a friend and wife – and basically felt like she was half-assing the lot.

The woman left for work before her kids were awake. The hour she saw them in the evening was usually monopolised by an argument about which cup their juice had to be in; and don’t even get me started on the laundry situation. Something had to give.

Unfortunately, the woman’s deviant children decided they would make the decision for her. They started being uncharacteristically pleasant to be around for long periods of time. They played nicely together, cried for actually reasons – not just because the younger one was ‘looking at him’ – and generally made the woman think that staying at home fulltime with them would be something to look forward to.

Still on a high from spending time with these alleged angels, the woman sat her husband down and convinced him that they would be fine with one wage and this was absolutely the right thing to do. You should know that this woman’s husband was an idiot also, because he believed her – the fool.

The woman handed in her notice and started daydreaming of summer afternoons with her children; with runs in the morning, sit down breakfasts with silly conversations, sloppy open mouth kisses from the baby because that’s how he rolls and generally time to get to know them as the little people they are fast growing up to be.

Reader, I have a confession: that woman was me.

If I could go back in time, I would shake that stupid woman and tell her to catch a grip. Lads, I’m two weeks in and I’m ready to run for the hills.

Would you like to know how many early morning runs I’ve been on? Zero.

Sit down breakfasts with silly conversations? I get the breakfast alright, then I’m routinely ignored by both of them. At least Oscar manages to throw the dregs of his cereal on the ground just to keep things interesting – but only when I’m already underneath the chair picking up the spoon so the remainder of the milk is sure to get me on the head.

General affection is held to ransom by the younger deviant – he prefers to headbutt or bodyslam.

Finally, getting to know the little people they are growing up to be? Well, if I wanted to know what it feels like to hear the word ‘mummy’ on repeat for 12 hours, in between tantrums and prising dried-up cheerios from the carpet, then consider me educated.

And let’s not forget about the guilt that now chases me round like an unwelcome houseguest. Those care-free evenings that I used to have are now gone. Now, I’m plagued with questions like: how are you going to manage on one wage? Shouldn’t you write a book or something so people think you’re more than just ‘staying home’ all day with two kids? What are you going to do when they go to school? Who the hell is going to hire you?

It’s a joyful time to be alive, kids.

So take heed: don’t spend too much time with your offspring. They might just convince you to jack in the career and get to know them. I’ve done it for you; they’re all cretins – run for your lives.