WHEN my children were infants and I was dealing with sleepless nights, temper tantrums, chronic exhaustion and the stress of questioning everything I was doing, I used to look enviously at other parents racing around with their older, more mobile and much more robust-looking offspring.

More often than not they would encouragingly tell me: “Don’t worry, it does get easier.”

Some years on, I can say there’s truth in that observation. But it’s also the case that one set of worries morphs into new challenges.

Now I have sleepless nights worrying whether I can manage to fit a quick grocery shop sometime between work and the kids’ gymnastics, swimming and ice-skating lessons; how to get the kids to focus on their reading, spelling, maths and other homework; how to find the time to hunt down all the gear for my son’s forthcoming camp, and why the hell he won’t use a public toilet if it looks a bit iffy but is willing to take a shovel and dig his own commode in the bush?

That’s the big challenge these days, managing time, multitasking and juggling a multitude of issues and worries. Meanwhile, my other half engages in some desperately important mobile phone call and is frantically turning my handbag upside down looking for a pen and paper (really, as if I would have that in my bag amidst sun hats, brekkie drinks, bandaids, spare kids’ socks and undies, a pair of prank handcuffs, a mermaid Barbie doll and just a few things for myself).

All the time I’m worrying about our six-year-old daughter who is showing signs of OCD having spent the last half hour adjusting the turnover on her white school socks so they match perfectly, down to the millimetre.

Then it’s time to take our geriatric and increasingly incontinent dog to the vet before scrambling late into the brief respite that is work.

Later in the day, as I race to get to the kids’ school before 3pm pick up and get them to afternoon tutoring, I’ve got a small window of opportunity to get to a pet shop in search of dog nappies and something for the kids to nibble on before gymnastics and then homework.

As I drive I briefly ponder the possibility that there will eventually be some easing up in the pace  – sometime long after the teenage years, when the kids are all grown up and have left home. But I think not, at least not until my husband and I have acquired walking frames and by then we may well be hobbling after a bunch of exuberant grandkids.

Parenthood – it’s a chaotic, wild, rollercoaster of a ride. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I got on board. But if I’m honest, I just didn’t fully appreciate quite what I was getting into in what really is a ride for life.