Firstly, before we have a collective collapse, the state of the nation is not dependent on the state of our cupboards. Yes, it's all out in the open now. Out of the closet, so to speak.
We've been holding secret meetings about those cupboards for years. "How are you?" you ask a friend. She looks around suspiciously, then whispers "Not well...it's my cupboards...they're in a terrible state! I just can't get to them!"
Mothers, young and old, new or experienced, at home or out to work, all agree that if we don't have the cupboards under control, then we don't have our lives under control.
Australia must be in a state of total chaos if all my friends are to be trusted. Just think of it, we could change the course of history!
But perhaps we should just give all our muddled messes an extra hard shove, swear them to secrecy and slam the door defiantly on the lot.
Why should we lay all that responsibility and guilt on ourselves? Honestly, has anyone ever asked to inspect all your cupboards?
Secondly, if we're to survive we'll have to deal with the Perennial Missing Sock Syndrome in a positive and innovative manner (rumour has it that the Order of the One Sock is behind the disappearance of millions of socks annually).
Look on the bright side: you can always use the leftover sock productively. Fill it with lentils, tie the loose end and pop it into the microwave (two minutes at medium).
The cause of your stress now becomes the cure. When wrapped around the neck it provides wonderful warmth and relief for our tension headaches, and if the mood takes you, you can always fling a lentil roll in the direction of frazzled friend, who, by chance, has all her pairs in place.
Thirdly, we need to challenge certain policies of our women's magazines. Why do they insist on shocking us silly by placing pictures of our cellulitic thighs in need of redemption? Absolutely disgusting (them, not our thighs)! Solution? Tear out all those nasty before and after pics, take another bite of your bun, and turn the page.
Anyway, who would take the dog to the vet of fetch the (grand)children from soccer or collect the dry cleaning if you were "gyming" all day trying to rid yourself of something perfectly natural.
It would be selfish. And if anyone ever hints that you're developing a double chin, act arrogant. Unfortunately, it's the only way out.
By tilting your chin to the heavens, there's a good chance that the new arrivals will be tractioned upwards to gel with their mother.
Now that we've got that sorted out, I hear you asking for a solution to problem number four. The "What's for supper? "crisis. Chill out. Let them eat cake. Spray it a healthy green if you must.
What difference does it make anymore, all the fruit and veggies have hormonal implants or they're cloned from something quite unthinkable.
Throw in a packet of chips or a few nasturtiums from the garden as optional extras if the family really start whingeing.
Lastly, our most important weapon of survival is laughter. If we mothers and grandmothers are to remain sane, we must learn to laugh and to laugh from the heart.
Why take (grand) motherhood so seriously- let's show our children how to enjoy life.
It takes a little practice to perfect the belly laugh, but it's well worth it. It normalises our blood pressure and has the added advantage of clearing our lungs. Cackle like a Kingfisher or just roar until there's no more.
And if we all die from laughter -what better way to go? At least we'll go down smiling!
