Having children means you always live in a world of extremes: you come home from work where someone has implied that the collective inability to realise the current project will result in global meltdown; twenty minutes later you're searching for a missing hairgrip under the sofa and being encouraged to enthuse about a ballerina's outfit. Today was such a day. A hissy fit at work, followed by a demonstrative walk-out by said colleague followed by preparations for a six-year-old's birthday party. Not that the celebrations went entirely smoothly, either: a certain group of guests made life difficult for the rest, voices were raised and tears shed. Parental firemen ran about, dousing the flames with standard wisdom, veiled, never-to-be-implemented threats and order returned.
It's this life balance that makes work bearable. I love my job, but you always need perspective and that's what it lacks on occasions. I'm just glad I return to Planet Earth when I exit those doors of an evening.