With 3 boys under 6, Buggy Blogger mum to J (5), B (3) and S (1) certainly has her hands full. This week she’s losing her marbles over the marble cake.

'So what are the kids out there using these days, MySpace or Facebook?' asks a former colleague on an ex-workmates' email chat-group. Erm, as far as I'm concerned the kids are using Scoobydoo.com for fun and games and … um … spend the rest of their leisure lying on their tums tinkering with Hot Wheels and Lego pieces.

But I doubt that's the answer he was looking for. So … looks about shiftily … is he talking about the likes of me? Do I count as one of 'The Kids' – nah, (sobs) I’m mid 30s now. And do I do Facebook – not on your nelly, where would I find the time? And frankly would I really want to – can't get my head around the idea of being 'poked' by all and sundry and would I be up to raising more than a couple of friends? (I know I'm anonymous but my surname rhymes with Norman. Doesn't bode well does it?).

'So what's everyone up to these days?' continues the aforementioned apparition from an earlier pre-children life. This provokes a barrage of exciting email replies outlining just what everyone IS up to work-wise. And dare I chip in with my 'yeah, I'm at home parenting three small boys, sitting on the parent-run committee for a pre-school nursery and acting as Year 1 Class Rep at school'? No … coward … I keep resolutely mum.

It's not that I don’t think all of these things are important … the never-ending circus of washing, cooking, tying shoelaces, practising spelling tests, prompting pleases and thank yous and generally running around like a headless chicken to keep the house (and the nursery … and Year 1 duties) ticking along are all Very Important Indeed. And sometimes … surprise! … quite good fun too.

But these things are only truly appreciated by those that are, or have been, in the thick of all this kind of stuff themselves. Somehow I can't see my sparky and childless former colleagues swooning with admiration as they read about me wiping bottoms, attending committee meetings and chivvying people for money. Though when you look at it like that, it's scarily similar to 'real' work. Only without the payslip at the end of the month.

But even though I'm cowardly about sharing my day-to-day trivialities with the high and mighty Employed Ones, it doesn't mean I’m not proud of what I'm achieving. Of course there are my three charming, well-mannered and sparklingly turned out young lads for starters!!!

And then there's my role as Year 1 Class Rep. (oops, Joint Class Rep – sorry Sas, I shouldn't hog all the glory.) Three months into the job and we've already got together a parent email group, collected a fair wad of raffle-ticket money and put on a fundraising cake sale. We've published a monthly parent newsletter, organised a pub night and no-one even runs away from us (yet) when we're seen approaching with a large brown envelope and biro in hand. (Though I'm not delusional, I know that soon enough me + Sas + Bic = hotfoot it, Quick!)

So all in all I'd say we're on a roll. Or a Swiss roll in the case of the cake sale day. There were homemade chocolate muffins, slabs of old-fashioned marble cake and, my personal favourite, those emasculated chocolate brownies (no nuts). And in spite of being rather taken aback by the vigour of the cake-hungry mob, we managed to keep our heads amidst the turmoil. 'Let them eat cake' we cried 'and pay 30p for 1 or 4 for £1' we added. And by jiminy they did.

But now here's where I let you into my little secret. Because although we made a very healthy profit of £100.72p (!!!) I have a small confession to make. I'm actually not the paragon of virtue you've always thought me to be. Oh no! In addition to the £100.72p (in a combination of coppers and silver shrapnel) there was also a rogue 5 cent piece in the kitty. Reader, I kept it.

Does this make me guilty of embezzlement? Should I resign my post forthwith and shuffle myself even further from the limelight when the next impressive-sounding updates are aired on my ex-colleagues' email chat group? No of course not. It was a small mistake, I was assured after a few drinks at the parents' pub night, anyone could have made it. Felt slightly better at the time. Though a little dehydrated in the morning.

The scandal of the missing 5 cents aside, I really did think I was doing OK. Not so. Instead of eating smug slices of marble cake I soon found myself eating humble pie when the success of the feted cake sale exposed another hole in my performance. Excitedly, an email went out to the parents' group with news of our grand cake sale profit (bar mention of the rogue coin), a reminder about Harvest Festival and a rally to the troops to sign up for the forthcoming school quiz night.

In reply, I got an email from someone who assured me she was a childless statistician living in Australia. She doesn't know a soul in the UK and certainly has no plans to hook up for our quiz night. And though she congratulated us on the results of our cake sale, she really couldn't care less. Oops, looks like I stuffed up on collecting the parents’ email addresses too then.

Ah well, perhaps I'll remain resolutely silent on what I'm up to when there's another prompt on the ex-colleagues chat-group. Anyway, who wants to wallow in the past? Surely it's best to look instead to the future.

Which is what I'm going to do right now. Grasp the future by the horns and sign up to FaceBook. Do you think I should invite my new Aussie mate to be my friend?

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