The thing about not having a job is you're always around to help your mates out when they need something but they're stuck at work. Last week I assisted my good friend Auntie Claire in just such a way. She needed me to wait in her house while some men came to clean the settee after she'd had a flood.

Now, Casa del Claire is an un-childproofed establishment, but I was fairly confident that I would be able to occupy The Kid for the few hours that I'd be there. I was equipped with an array of paraphernalia with which to entertain a toddler; little cars, trucks and toys. I'd reasoned that giving him lunch would keep him still for half an hour so I'd brought a tin of raviolis and some raisins.

It took me about 30 seconds after walking through the door to deduce that the next couple of hours were not going to be as straight forward as I'd first anticipated.

The first few weeks were great; out of bed, dressed and ready. Have lovely walk to school then take The Kid to the park or for a wander round the shops.

I'm not quite sure how I went from that, to stumbling out of bed at the last minute, chucking the fully pyjamad Kid into his car seat then driving The Boy to school. I admit, the first couple of times this happened it was lovely to just go home, sit have a nice unhurried breakfast and coffee whilst watching V+ed episodes of Frasier interspersed with Peppa Pig.

For the last couple of days I've been sporting some rather large carpet burns on my elbows.

Now, if you can just take your mind out of the gutter for a second I'll explain that they were actually inflicted..

Well, I'm two weeks into being a none-working parent and I am still quite happy. I'm not tearing my hair out and still haven't gone loop the loop.

There was a slight moment of panic yesterday when The Kid cried for no apparent reason for about half an hour. I suddenly wondered if leaving working life was a massive mistake, but then I thought -

On Saturday the 19th of September, me and 1500 women did something amazing. We walked 10km around Birmingham City Centre at midnight in aid of Acorns children's charity.

At around 9.30pm I was mooching around the house, grumbling and thinking that the last thing I wanted to be doing was going on a 6 mile walk around town in the freezing cold. Why do I let myself be talked into these things? I suppose this is what comes from being friends with Dirt Linforth, a dedicated (to say the least) employee of the charity. "Go on, please support us. It'll be fun!" She'd enthused.

Dirt's mom arrived at mine circa 9.45, pinned my number to my back and we started to talk about how cold it was likely to be. Was I mad? This wasn't going to be fun at all, it was going to be cold and tiring. Our lift arrived at 10pm and we got to Millennium Point just before half past.

We registered at the desk then Dirt found us and volunteered us to help sign people in. The next hour and a half flew by in a torrent of women and numbers and glo sticks and health and safety letters.

Just before midnight the jumble of women stood in front of the BRMB stage and began to warm up. It was all bustle and excitement - maybe this was going to be some fun after all?

We all began to make our way to the starting line and I noticed one of the notes pinned to the back of another walker:

And then, a little before midnight it finally dawned on me. I was part of something so much bigger, and more important than me.

And so I have completed one full week as a stay at home bum. I can report that so far it has not been a life of dossing around, nor has it been a mind-numbingly boring experience. I have also not gone mad (as my mother predicted) from having no one to talk to except a tiny toddler.

Mothers have got a sixth-sense. You don't get it immediately after your baby is born, but acquire it over time. You know the thing I mean - you can be working happily away, maybe folding clothes or cooking dinner having left your tot playing innocently with their toys, then all of a sudden, you get a feeling.

You just know.

He's up to something.

You'd imagine a one year old's birthday party would be a simple affair, wouldn't you? A few harmless toddlers, sausages on sticks, birthday cake and balloons; a lovely afternoon out for all.

Except for the fact that said toddlers looked like they'd had military training in Vietnam judging by the pincer movement they employed to extract a cat from behind the bushes. I swear on my life The Kid actually shouted "GO, GO, GO!" to J Man when the cat made a break for it and the two of them toddled full pelt across the lawn.

There is another reason why the start of this term is special to me in particular. Instead of returning to the job that I love, I have decided to bite the bullet and become a Stay at Home Mom. (SAHM)

Temporarily leaving the world of work is a massive decision for any parent. There are the financial implications, as well as leaving behind the mental stimulation that comes with having a real, enjoyable job. Not to mention saying goodbye to the social aspect of working - I'll desperately miss all of my work colleagues, even that sour faced Karen from the office.

• Uniform: Bought (after an hour wait in Clive Marks, will go at start of hols next year)
• Labels: Sewn, Ironed and Biroed on
• Lunchbox: Packed
• PE Kit: Folded ready to go
• Shoes: Polished
• Hair: Cut
• Pointless Stationery: All present and correct. Ready to be lost, swapped, nicked or never used.

This week an army of frazzled moms launch their little darlings through the school gates and squeal with delight. The return of a normal school routine brings sanity back to the stay at home mom or signals the end of the big childcare dilemma for the working woman.