I make no bones about not being a superwoman. Although I want to be Martha Stewart when I grow up, based on the level of housekeeping at my house, I am clearly not grown up yet.

I have found the only way I can get through the days and weeks is by dropping my standards on many things and sticking with what's important to me. As a result I focus on safety, nutrition and hygiene and not what I consider to be the superficialities of tidiness and magazine-shoot-ready decorating.

Most days my house looks like a wreck but we have clean clothes and nice meals and seem to muddle through OK.

My housekeeping seems to have ruled out visitors too. Anyone calling in seems to think I'm "in the middle of something" and apologizes for intruding. In reality, the vacuum cleaner is on the floor because I only had time to clean one room two days ago and I haven't yet had the opportunity to do the adjoining one.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a more orderly, ready for our close-up kind of way, but superwoman I am not and I can only do what I can do.

I think even more than parenting in general, single-income parenting — where the one adult in the house has to do everything — creates the need for giving yourself some sort of break. I relax on the housework. Please don't drop in.

Cambodian marriages have a recipe for success. The woman is in charge. Excuse me while I pack my bags.

Seriously, the woman controls the money, makes the purchasing decisions, raises the family and is recognized as the matriarch. Both parties know it going in and it works really well.

In his imperfect English, one happily married Cambodian man told me that men go to work and bring home the money to their wives. Any man seen to be holding any money back for himself, other than lunch money at work, is seen by his male peers as "soft" or "you know, a bit gay." Good men bring home the bacon.

In describing how marriages work, he said that if a married couple were buying a new car and the woman wanted a red one and the man wanted a black one, they would buy a red one and everyone would be happy.

Part of the reason for the success of this traditional role-sharing arrangement is that Cambodian men really value the contribution of the homemaker. The fact that they come home from work to a house, a wife, children, clean clothes and meals is wonderful to them. Like most single working women, I think it sounds pretty good too!

I am not sure why all recipients of such an arrangement don't just appreciate it rather than feel the need to critique it like so many western men do.

This traditional role breakdown also works because it is communicated well. Both parties understand what their rights and responsibilities are and they work together as a couple rather than two individuals.

Of course, the fact that many women aren't educated for any vocation other than marriage conditions them to this way of life. And the fact that education for women is becoming a more accepted and even encouraged aspect of Cambodian life will make this nation interesting to observe over time.

In my defense, especially since my divorce, I'm busy and have made a conscious decision to focus on doing the things that make a difference.

Things like making sure my kids have clean, ironed clothes to wear. That there is food in the fridge. That their mother knows what day it is — most of the time.

That means lots of things don't get done. Long ago, I decided not only something had to give, but lots of things had to. Dinner parties don't achieve anything we need. Attending school information nights would mean doing laundry at midnight. Baking cakes would just mean more washing up to do. Gone, gone, gone.

I heard myself flippantly saying the other day that I hadn't made a cake this century. Cute joke, huh? Not really. The words just kept spinning in my mind. How could I have not made my kids a cake in seven years?

So, a magnificent chocolate cake was produced. Well, an okay cake, with really great chocolate icing. But, Martha comparisons aside, make a cake for your kids once every seven years and everyone's happy.

I hardly noticed that there was more washing up to do.