Yesterday I decided to tackle the teenagers bedroom. I had to wait until he was at work because his power of deferment knows no bounds. I have tried every tactic known to man, lobbing his stuff out of the window, locking it in the dog cage, the boot of the car, 'Its boot, bribery, corruption and humiliation. None of it worked.

Before Christmas, my Ebay dealings and a rather kind offer from mother to fund the four extra maths lessons I had been hoarding for - funded a rather swanky sideboard, perfect depth for record decks and enough storage to salve the temper of any mother. Despite roping the neighbours into carrying the beast upstairs, it has sat - covered in bubble wrap ever since.

In truth there reaches a point in everyones life where the chaos just gets too much and the recipient simply cannot climb that mountain. Knee deep in shopping disorder, he had got to that point and since his bedroom was affecting my karma, I ventured in - determined that if I could master his room, the rest of the year should be a doddle.

Three hours late, 2 laundry bins of clothes that all look the same, 18 cardboard boxes, a wardrobe full of hoodies that also all look the same, about 28 pairs of basketball boots that look the same, 6 pairs of jeans that look the same - my karma was restored and I had found the end of the hoover that we had been looking for since November.

Teenager was quite pleased, it meant that when his friend came around that night , there was loads of room to throw their stuff around.

The smug glow was brief. I then realised that the entire house needed attending too. The kitchen paint is peeling off, the little ones bedroom was supposed to get painted last year and by the end of this, they will be too big for their toddler beds. Middle child has a room that doesn't fit furniture, the radiators need bleeding, half the sockets come out with the plug, the plaster repair in the children's snug never got repainted, the broken front door frame was never fixed, the windows in the dining room never did get filled around the edge from being refitted, the dog ate a hole in the living room carpet, the window seats need covers, the cupboard in the sitting room still needs to be built and the radiator panels never got any panels, despite being fitted 6 years ago.

I felt exhausted thinking about it. So overwhelmed that I had to retire to the garden nursing yet another large Irish coffee. Nothing got done, but I felt better about it.

Next week shall be my real challenge. I am having a knee operation at the RUH. Given the circumstances, I considered canceling but have figured that from now on - there will be no good time. Besides, my knee is agony. It feels like someone has put it on backwards and when you have to walk the Bitch for nearly 90 minutes a day, this is not a good thing.

When I had the consultation the lovely knee saving man said '`You will not be able to drive the car or look after children for a week.' I laughed at him. Ironic really, because I thought at the time that this would never happen and that, was in normal circumstance. So the small matter of getting children to school, the Bitch walked and doing bedtimes with a freshly carved up limb. Still, another mountain to climb. Or crawl