So I'm a mum. Presumably readers can work that out from the blog title. My burning issue is that I feel I am much more than a mere mum and yet I am not sure anyone else remembers or notices that. As I do the school run with my darling children ranging in age from 7 to 2, does anyone see the university graduate, the former project leader, the charity worker and the dozens of other titles and labels I hold somewhere under the scruffy jeans and baggy T-shirt that appears to be the uniform of mums like me? Do I exist anymore and if I don't, how can I change that?

It is not for the want of trying that I have become a meaningless blob. I spend hours on the internet trying to find a job, a business, a volunteering or a study opportunity that fits in with the constant round of waitressing, refereeing and drudgery that is motherhood in the 21st century.

Today's frustrations saw my four year old getting hold of a bottle of Febreze and spraying it over my bed and then tipping a bowl of pot pourri on top. She must be creative like I used to be but there are limits to what I can stand. Sorted that one out and whilst I was doing that, my two year old son tipped ice-cream all over the sofa. Lovely.

After school, my 7 year old son bombarded me with questions about Indiana Jones. I didn't even like Indiana Jones the first time round so I find it hard to feign any interest in the newer version.

My partner is away at work for 12 hours so I feel very isolated and in need of adult conversation. So if there are any adults out there who can empathise, please get in touch.

Writing this has actually helped. It is amazing how disasters seem funny when written down. I have always had great faith in the power of the written word so perhaps blogging will make me exist again. Here's hoping!