I don’t know how I do it

I was about to change the world — but then we had a Peppa Pig meltdown

RESOLUTIONS come in two varieties. The utterly predictable sort (lose weight, banish the booze, swear less) or the infinitely more entertaining, surprising sort, which are so ridiculous you can only admire the chutzpah of the resolution-maker and give yourself a talking to about being so small-minded.

Take Mark Zuckerberg, CEO of Facebook, for example. This week he posted his New Year Resolutions on the social media site. They are to run 365 miles in 365 days (this will only take ten minutes a day, he says optimistically) and build a domestic robot manservant and code the artificial intelligence for it himself.

It’s like me saying my resolutions are to invent a cloak of invisibility or a cream that really does ‘reduce the appearance of fine lines/cellulite’.

Now, Mark Zuckerberg is a genius. He has changed the way we live; his invention dominates, dictates and connects the lives of more than one billion people worldwide. He is an inspiring master of the universe.

But Mr Zuckerberg, on this occasion, you are a fool.

You have just had a baby (daughter Max was born at the end of November). It’s going to take you more than an hour and a half of preparation to leave the house to do anything constructive.

Your phone will be mostly in the fridge and your dreams won’t be any bigger than finding a matching shoe.

You may fantasise about physically testing yourself with a one-mile run, but you’ll settle for getting the poppers of a onesie done up in order. Trust me, achieving that every day, after no sleep while smelling faintly of poo, will feel like running the London Marathon (twice).

If you are really focused, you may get to work without a Weetabix stain on your shoulder or an ancient sultana in your underwear. Sure, you can afford to pay people to take over the boring baby stuff, but I doubt you will, because you’re a competitive high-achiever and you’ll want to do it yourself with Mrs Z.

You seem pretty hands-on already with this infant malarkey — I notice you have finally discovered the real purpose of Facebook: baby pictures.

But believe me, billionaire businessman Mark Zuckerberg, digital superhero, you are no longer in charge of your schedule. This daughter dictator who has stolen your heart is now boss.

MAx, not even two months yet, will stop at nothing to conquer your structured world. Before you know it, you’ll find yourself sniffing the top of her head absentmindedly and an hour will have passed in five seconds. Everything will become more complicated, more rewarding yet extremely unpredictable.

Thank God you’ll be so under the spell of your newborn’s gorgeous chubby wrists and thighs that you won’t care.

But I can’t wait for next year’s family Zuckerberg resolutions where you explain why robot Jeeves is a pile of metal in a box under the stairs and that you did run 365 miles if you count going up and down the stairs for stuff you forgot. It’ll be a post along these lines: ‘I was halfway through building my robot Jeeves when baby Max pushed a tiny component up her nose and we had to go to A&E. Again.’

‘I was just screwing in Jeeves’ left eye when I noticed the eye socket was full of crusty PlayDoh.

‘I was ready to go for a run when Max had a giant meltdown because the bubbles in her bath disappeared / her favourite toy was out of arm’s reach / Peppa Pig ended.’

You may try to remain as cheery as Olaf from Frozen, but you’ll have the same heartstopping, gut-wrenching, tear-inducing, exhausting moments as the rest of us lessgenius humans. This will throw you at first, but take heart. Eventually, you realise that, chronic sleepdeprivation aside, an unpredictable life is a wonderful thing.

The Candys haven’t made any family resolutions, there is no point due to the unforeseeable nature of this parenting experiment.

Our children turn 14, 12, ten and five in 2016. They’ve been making rotating guest appearances in this weekly column since they were seven, five and one (there was no baby Mabel then).

I can only hope and wish their resolutions when they grow up will be as big and as bold as Mr Zuckerberg’s. Fingers crossed.

Lorraine candy is editorin-chief of elle magazine.