When my children were small, the same comments came up again and again. People would stop me in supermarkets, smile sympathetically and say, “Wow, you’ve got your hands full,” or ask, “Are they all yours?” With four children aged eight and under, the reactions were predictable. Crossing the road felt like a tactical operation, airport travel required military-level planning, and leaving the house involved snacks, spare clothes, emergency snacks, backup snacks, wipes, drinks and at least one forgotten shoe. Life was loud, messy and relentlessly busy.