A few years ago I was constantly complaining I never had enough time and my life was too difficult. I worked hard in an inner city school as an Assistant Head. I felt I never had enough time to do the things I enjoyed – to read a book, to write, to exercise, to take long baths and my favourite of favourites – to sleep all morning.

So I decided to have a child, a lovely daughter. For some bizarre reason I thought then I would have some time away from work and I would be able to do all the things I wanted to do while she slept. Ha! What I found instead was my life was an endless round of domestic tasks. Very soon I was constantly complaining I didn’t have time to do any of the things I wanted to.

So I decided to have two more children, lovely twin girls. My day was packed full – with scarcely time to make a cup of tea or take a shower. With three girls in the house demanding constant attention I definitely didn’t have time to do all those lovely things.

I wish I had appreciated my life for what it was.

Today I had an hour with just one of the twins. You wouldn’t think that in an hour you would notice the difference. We had to get yet another tyre fixed at the garage and then we popped to the retail park to get a present and meet her big sister. Walking about with one child was so much simpler than herding three. I could just pick her up when she was grumpy.

I’m not saying having one child is easy. It isn’t. I”m not saying having two children is easy. It’s all relative I guess. if I had six children and three were out for the day I’m sure I’d feel that having three children was a sinch. It’s the comparison that’s the thing.

What it did do was make me realise I need to take one out on their own more often. It’s a treat for them to have a mummy who is two thirds less stressed and with two thirds more attention and with a pair of hands just for them to pick them up if they fall over. I also need to appreciate what I’ve got.

There you go, I’ve learnt my lesson. I really don’t need a forth child to ram the message home. Let’s just get that one clear.

I am not comparing my children to farmyard animals
– they’re more feral!