Seven o'clock on a Thursday morning and here I am, head in the oven, shoving a skewer into half a dozen fairy cakes to check the metal comes back clean.
"Are they going to be ready in time for school?" Victoria asks, kneeling next to me and peering through the oven door.
"Yes," I tell her through gritted teeth. "They'll be ready."
I will not send my daughter off to school with yet another box of Mr Kipling's Fondant Fancies for the PTA bake sale. That bitch Shelley Henderson with the botox and the four by four has thrown me her last smug look. I, Silver Byrne am going to succeed. I will show them all.
I peel myself off the tiled floor, noticing that Victoria has chosen to wear rainbow tights instead of her plain navy school ones. On top of that, she's accessorized her school uniform with a pair of day-glow orange fairy wings.
"You can't wear those tights," I tell her.
"Or the wings," Oliver chimes in, from his seat at the breakfast table.
"Shush up," Victoria warns him.
"Shush up yourself." he replies, glaring at her over the top of his book. "You look stupid."
Victoria, who takes after me in both looks and temperament, launches her spiky fairy wand at him, narrowly missing his eye.
"Mum! She's acting violent again!"
I roll my eyes. "Both of you! Behave!"
There's silence, though not because of my expert parenting. Oliver has gone back to reading Skullduggery and Victoria is twirling around like a loon - getting dizzy, as she calls it.
"Silver!" Logan's voice yells from upstairs.
"Mum, Dad's calling you," Oliver informs me.
"What?!" I shout up at the ceiling. There's no way I can afford to leave the cakes at this stage in the game.
I smack the oven mitt down onto the kitchen counter. "Victoria, call me when the timer goes off and DON'T touch the oven. Ollie, make sure your sister doesn't go near that cooker."
"Yeah, yeah," Oliver mutters.
I dash through the living room and upstairs into the bathroom, where I find a towel clad Logan leaning over the bathroom sink, his face pressed up against the mirrored cabinet.
"What's up?" I snap, folding my arms across my chest. "I'm making fairy cakes."
He leans away from the sink and grins at me. In spite of the stressful start to the day, I can't help but admire his sexy half-naked body. He's not as muscular as he once was, but he's still pretty toned. With his dark hair dripping wet and a slight stubble - he looks hot. Damn hot.
I shake myself from my lust induced reverie. "Well?" I ask.
He leans over and grabs my hand, pulling me toward him. "I've got a grey hair."
I smack my hand over my mouth. "You're kidding?" I ask, breaking into a huge smile.
He shakes his head. "Look," he says, parting the front of his dark hair and leaning over.
I smooth the hair flat and sure enough, there is a tiny sprinkling of grey hairs amongst the black.
"Oh my God," I screech, before bursting into laughter.
"I'm not imagining it am I?"
"No. You're officially on your way to becoming a silver fox."
He grabs me around my waist and pulls me toward him, crushing my body against his. "We need to celebrate," he whispers into my ear, a hand trailing down my back.
"What now? Before the school run?"
He chuckles. "No, later. I'll pick up champagne on the way home and then, when the kids are in bed..."
"Logan, we do that every night - often in the mornings as well. Buy strawberries though," I add quickly.
He laughs and lands a kiss on my lips, massaging the back of my neck with his warm hand.
"Yeugh," Oliver cuts in.
We break apart guiltily to see that our son has appeared in the doorway. "Soooo gross. Why can't you be more like Ben's parents? They barely even speak."
Logan laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "One day, pal, you'll understand."
Oliver screws his face up, nose wrinkled in disgust. "I hope not. But anyway, Mum - there's smoke coming out of the oven door."