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Extreme randomness - I apologise profusely. Just can't pull it together today.

• The M7. I have decided it is of Satan. It's actually the M666, rounded up for easy accounting. I had to drive from Bulli to Quakers Hill. A relatively easy pursuit one would expect. But NO! There is no exit sign saying 'for Quakers Hill take the Richmond Rd exit' There is no sign saying '*** ActonB get off here ***' There are only helpful signs pointing to Blacktown, and Mt Druitt. And then helpful signs pointing to Epping and Hornsby. WTF???!!! How did I end up on the M2? And I hate, hate, HATE it when you can only enter or exit a Motorway in one direction - let me explain. Having done a U-turn at the Pennant Hills Rd exit, and driving another 15 minutes back down the M7, I finally found my way to Quakers Hill Anglican Church in time for my Best Friend's daughter's baptism. Much flustered, but punctual. After said ceremony, I hopped back in the car, headed for the M7 along the Quakers Hill Parkway, as I KNEW that you could get on to the M7 from there. You can. But only if you're headed to SYDNEY. Not if you want to got the OTHER way. There is no signage, no clue as to how you can actually get onto the M7 if you maybe, perhaps want to head to Liverpool... It just says - Sydney this way, everyone else can bugger off. I hate that. It makes me very very cranky. It makes me cry with frustration. My howls of anguish prompt the twins to murmur in unison 'Oh... Poor mummy'. The M7 - the highway to hell.

• I had a sudden, inexplicable burst of tolerance yesterday evening. For some reason, I was able to have all four children helping me in the kitchen. And I did not lose my temper once. Not once! Twilight Zone stuff hey! The twins had on aprons and were generally faffing about - pushing each other off stools in order to be closer to the action. Miss M was as bossy and efficient as ever. Miss H (Oh H, my 'problem middle child')... well, she was just kinda H-like, but in a very lovable way... We managed to make pasta with a creamy, cheesy, basil-y chicken and vegie sauce. It was all very good, and the kids ate every last scrap, coz they had Made Dinner.

• My daughter, Miss M, almost 9 years old. Has a brain the size of a planet. Got distinctions in the UNSW English and Writing competitions. Better than 93% of the state in Writing, better than 97% in English. Brilliant kid (and beautiful too, if I may say so myself). Miss M's household chore is to sort out the laundry when it has been brought in from the line. There were 2 baskets sitting downstairs. One full of crisp clean clothes, smelling of sunshine and fluffy clouds and all things wonderful (or Omomatic if you would prefer). The other full of dirty, smelly, yet-to-be-laundered feralness. She emptied them both onto the lounge and proceeded to sort them out. When I discovered what she had done (echoing those howls of anguish I had let forth yesterday) she said 'Ohhhhhh. Well that would explain why all the twins' clothes were still filthy. I was wondering about that...' Dear God, Girl - Turn your brain on!