WAAAAAAAAGH! I've walked into a bit of scene. Hannah is crying her little eyes out. She's a bit unsure of the strange man with the camera swung round his neck, while the three boys peer mischievously over their boiled eggs at their new visitor.

The quads' mum, Theresa Moss-Carbert, good-naturedly announces that I'm in "big trouble" because Hannah was expecting me to arrive before the photographer.

"Do you want a coffee, take a seat," she gestures, and it's not long before Hannah's face lights up with her trademark beaming smile. The tears have disappeared and any signs of upset are long gone as she starts tucking into her egg again.

It's 7.35am. I've been up for an hour and only just managed to dress myself. The Darlington quads have been up for 25 minutes and are already part way through the slick pre-school operation carried out with flourish by Theresa, 42, and the quads' dad, 36-year-old Paul.

The kitchen wall is filled with the children's work - a calendar made from pasta and glue and brightly-coloured handprints from their nursery days. Next to them is a chart with pencilled-in blobs denoting whose turn it is to sit in the front seat of the car and who gets the choice of which video to watch at night.

Dressed in matching Barney the dinosaur pyjamas, the quads look angelic, carefully peeling bits of shell from their eggs and grinning sheepishly at their visitors through inquisitive blue eyes. There's a clatter of little spoons on plastic plates. No-one's rushing their toasted soldiers and it doesn't take much to distract them. They are four-years-old after all, and it's amazing how many things you have to show people when you have an audience around.

"Look," says Simon, who's come padding back into the kitchen from the living room with his Moscow State Circus programme thrust out in front of him. "That's the clown circus," he says and grins impishly.

But mum is keen to get on. "Hurry up and finish because you're in the front room next," she says, chivvying them along.

It's nearing 8am. Dad is clearing up the breakfast pots while mum is in the living room with washing bowl and towel at the ready. Four royal blue school uniforms are laid out neatly next to the Teletubbies chair and plastic boxes filled with toys by the hearth.

Johnpaul jumps onto mum's lap for his turn, while Adam and Simon reach for the multi-coloured sticks they got from the circus, which light up with the flick of a switch. The next minute they're duelling like a miniature Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker. A sharp word from mum and they dash over to show me how the light sticks work. Amid the organised chaos, Simon snuggles up by my side, looks up with his big blue eyes, and gives me a little hug. My heart melts. I want to take him home. Then he's off to get his Power Ranger to show me.

Next it's Hannah's turn to get ready. Hannah has cerebral palsy and needs constant one-on-one care. She is so sweet-natured, sitting quietly while mum straps on her little calipers and ties her lovely blonde hair up into a ribbon.

Dad, who used to work as a self-employed market gardener but had to give up work to help look after the quads, finishes off dressing the others. He will have all this to do by himself when Theresa, who has epilepsy and cannot be left alone with the children, goes into hospital in a couple of weeks for an hysterectomy.

"It's very hard to share your love between four children because they're all wanting attention at the same time," says Theresa, who can at least draw on her valuable experience as a qualified youth worker. "We have our moments and it does get very stressful at times."

The stress is eased by their organisation. The school clothes were bought well in advance. And they're always on the look-out for a bargain - the boys' shoes cost £3 a pair in the Marks and Spencer sale, down from £24.99.

But Theresa says the hardest thing is trying to buy three pairs of anything in the same size, when often markets or shops only have one or two pairs of trousers in the size they need. "Even out of school they're all dressed alike, but that's their choice," says Theresa. "I've tried dressing them differently but they all like the same stuff."

The weekly food bill varies but they have three fridge freezers so they can stock up on buy-one, get-one-free offers. Money is tight and, contrary to popular belief, the couple have never had firms queuing up to give them free baby milk or dozens of nappies.

Space is limited at the three-bedroom home in Darlington, but the family will have an extension built on to the house by social services when Hannah is older to meet her needs.

"I'd love a big shed to put all their toys and things in but we've priced it up and it's way too expensive," says Theresa, as she finishes helping dress the last of the quads.

It is 8.25am. The task is nearly complete. The military precision has paid off.

"Right," says Dad. "Time to go, get a move on."

One at a time, the quad squad is secured into seats in the battered D-registered Toyota Space Cruiser. It's time to go.

The mammoth exercise is over for another morning and mum and dad can enjoy that rare, precious gift - time to themselves. Until the quads get home from school...

Theresa's treat

Any parent who goes through the school run day after day deserves a treat - Theresa Moss-Carbert especially so. It's hard to find time to pamper yourself once children arrive. To remedy this, The Northern Echo has teamed up with the CACI Beauty Oasis in Northumberland Street, Darlington, to give the quads' mum a fantastic facial. "We think she deserves it," says salon owner Lesley Keneally. The CACI Beauty Oasis, which offers a full range of beauty treats, is on (01325) 489970