Why I want to go back to the Philippines and why I shouldn't

Two days, two nights.

I had this length of time to learn to save myself from the insanity of motherhood in England:

Day 1, morning:

dress up the boys: one is a 3-year-old eel that keeps on slipping out of my grasp, the other a 6-week-old piglet that pukes and poohs at inopportune times
make the beds and put away all squaking animals, books and innumerable cars that seemed to find their way under the duvets
prepare breakfast of oats and toast while mentally writing a list of shopping to do
tidy up kitchen while fending off the demanding scream of piglet who needs to be fed every 2 hours
take the boys out to town. this sounds rather easy if you don't consider the amount of time it takes to put on the toddler's coat and harness. A little argument would ensue on his choice of hat and scarf and the search for the left glove. Meanwhile, the piglet is howling again because his nappy just got dirty so off we go upstairs to get changed. By the time the piglet is strapped in his car seat, the eel had already taken off his scarf and coat and so we're back to step one.
100 years later, the boys are ready, but i'm not. yet.
two minutes later, we're finally out of the house. We just turned round the corner of our road when i realised that I forgot to bring my wallet and list and prescription for the piglet's puking and everything else that I needed. So back to the house.

I just had to look at the way my boys look at me to know that it was time for lunch.

Now, I can't even begin to think what we did in the afternoon. And it's only the first day and night that I am alone without help.

Day 2, morning

Break the rule: CALL MOTHER-IN-LAW.