Ten minutes to a frazzled mother....

Before E was born we read lots of baby books - books for dads, books for mums, books for lesbians, books on eating, books on sleeping, flimsy free pamphlets and huge tomes. It's easy to feel in control of your life if you've got a book to refer to.

But, out of all the hundreds of words I read, there's one phase that stuck with me. It's from Lucy Atkins' excellent 'First-time parent':

"Ten minutes to a frazzled mother at the end of the day is ten hours to normal people. If you are late, expect to find her standing at the door ready to hurl a wailing baby at you, rugby style, as you cross the threshold."

I think about this every day, when I try to spring from my desk on the dot of five in order to get home for the much promised - and seldom achieved - time of 6.15.

I'm lucky that my workplace prides itself on being family-friendly and offering flexible working. But even so, every extra ten minutes spent trapped in an overrunning meeting, waiting for a delayed train or trying to coax a response from a crashed computer feels like ten hours to this frazzled mother - and that's not to mention how R feels.

There's the guilt, about leaving R literally 'holding the baby' when she's been on duty all day.

There's the disappointment, about missing out extra playing time with E.

But there's something else too: the fear of becoming a different kind of person, of losing my spontaneity.

My every minute is now planned. I know exactly where to wait on the platform to make a quick dash to the exit on arrival. I save valuable seconds, but stand by the same people and look at the same ads, day after day.

I don't say yes to an unplanned drink with a colleague or decide to take a more scenic route home. I find myself becoming a more aggressive commuter, jostling and tutting behind tourists on the escalator, don't these people realise I'm in a rush?

My journey has become a means to an end: distance to be travelled as quickly as possible, instead of time when unexpected adventures could unfold.

So what is the solution to my dilemma? On my journey home yesterday, I came up with a few options.

a) I move house to be nearer to my job
b) I move job to be nearer to my house
c) I go freelance so that my job and house (and, of course, my baby) are the same place
d) Er... is that it?

No, it's not it. None of these options is an answer. You can't arrange to be more spontaneous by planning a major life change.

It may seem like there's now less space in my life to notice the unusual, to try new things or to wander off the beaten track. And maybe there is when it comes to life away from my family.

But it's also true to say that every day being with E brings new experiences and opens my eyes to new ways of seeing the world. And that's worth rushing home for.