I slept so long I may almost have had a dream

Last night I had seven hours sleep. Unbroken. No feeding, no dirty nappies, no running to get sick bowls.

Yesterday evening while putting the boys to bed I was almost asleep while sitting on Eldest Son, Harry’s, bed; I was upright but in that reverie state that often comes before sleep. I probably looked like one of those kids falling asleep in their highchair that you see on Funniest Home Movies programmes. I may even have had that bit of dribble coming from the corner of my mouth.

Sleep deprivation is the worst bit of having small children. I can cope with pretty much anything when I have had sleep. I can cope with pretty much nothing when I haven’t. So seven unbroken hours, the first in the last eight weeks (and also probably the last six weeks of pregnancy) has been a bit of a lifesaver.

At the moment all three children are napping simultaneously (I get a mother’s medal for that) but instead of trying to catch up on missed sleep like the books say (“try to nap when your baby naps” – very useful advice except when you have two toddlers in the house as well) I am feet-up with a cup of tea. This parenting thing: it’s too easy.