Ummm... I recently reread part of a diary I kept when mine were little, in particular an entry when they were 7, 4 and 2.
I somehow managed to get the older two where they had to be one morning, despite the toddler being horrendous (not sure how, probably involved putting on her wellies in the lobby and stamping dried mud off on a clean floor, or trying to hand-feed the cat, or something. Or, knowing her, several somethings). She then (so I read) continued being horrendous around Sainsbury's (screaming, possibly), then as I unpacked the shopping she got into the bathroom and got hair conditioner all over herself, requiring a shower and a complete change of clothes. I then started on the housework, only to discover that she was in the kitchen, eating newly-bought eclairs (which she had made some serious efforts to obtain), and had cream and icing all over her clean clothes and her clean hair.
It was 10.20 a.m.
So yeah, I did enjoy my DC when they were younger, and loved cuddling up and reading stories, and watching them play in the bath, and shrieking on the swings, but I remember stuff like that and honestly, no wonder I was knackered.