Claire Dunn: An excited and varied social life - just not mine

This has come as something of a shock to me as I always seem to be so busy, rushing here, there and everywhere.

But something's just dawned on me.

When I looked on the calendar it is not actually me that's busy – it's the kids.

It's definitely not my pocket diary crammed full of wonderful things to do, fabulous places to go and exciting people to meet.

Marked on my calendar there is a birthday party, football tournaments, play dates, more parties, a school concert, trips to the zoo . . . the list goes on and it all sounds good.

But when I look more closely it was then that I noticed.

Ah that's right there was nothing, zilch, zero, nowt with my name next to it. Not even a trip to the darn dentist.

How can this be? Really, I never seem to stop.

Now I know why.

I'm only busy because I'm the taxi driver ferrying my sons backwards and forwards, and then backwards and forwards again.

I'm the cook feeding gaggles of boys who are starving after "playing the other team off the park!" or "scoring the bestest header ever from a fantastic free kick".

I am the cleaner – washing the pots (OK, loading them in the dishwasher but you know what I mean), cleaning mucky football boots and kit and making sure that at bedtime, clean pyjamas are on and teeth are sparkling.

And I'm chief nighttime story reader, tucker-inner and first port of call after a rotten nightmare or a tummy upset.

But it wasn't always like this, was it?

I'm sure I can remember not so long ago in the dim and distant past I was a little bit of a party animal.

And I'm sure there were trips to concerts and the pub. There were certainly evenings out at the theatre, and they did involve me.

I definitely remember eating out now and then. However, it was an altogether different experience to eating out now. When I ate food that was still hot.

Since having the kids, the food I eat in restaurants is usually cold by the first mouthful as I've faffed around opening drinks, cutting up food and reprimanding my sons who thought it was hilarious to hide under the table as soon as dinner's arrived.

And I'm sure I definitely used to stay up later than 9.30pm – even on a school night.

But actually I wouldn't have it any other way, if truth be told.

I just can't imagine getting up in the night or as early as I do (or should I say the children do) after just a couple of hours sleep and way too much vino.

I have tried it. It wasn't pretty and I won't be doing it again.

So really I don't mind that I'm ready for bed at the same time as the kids, gearing up for whatever the next day brings.

I don't mind that I'm getting sports kit and lunches ready at stupid o'clock, instead of propping up a bar.

And I don't mind when I flip the calendar to find that I'm on taxi duty again and none of the parties are mine. I can wait.

You've just gotta love being a mum.