I have always been a good sleeper. I am one of those people who can fall asleep pretty much anywhere, and given the chance, I love taking little catnaps. I have fallen asleep during a classical music concert, at a movie theater, in the lunchroom at work, on the bus, in the classroom and various other places too embarrassing to mention.

John appreciates sleep even more than I do. Before kids, we used to laugh about being the unrivalled champions in the Olympic Games of Sleep. On Sundays we would snore away the mornings, have a leisurely brunch and go back to bed for another snooze.

Then along came the little darlings.

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'Uni', for Photography Thursday

Nowadays, good sleep is only a distant dream. We wake up at least once every night to go soothe one of the three, and completely disastrous nights (when we get up too many times to count) are not exactly a rare occurrence either. On those mornings, we are slow as molasses, cranky, and generally pretty unhappy to be the parents of three.

In the evenings, lying in bed, John and I often dream of one thing. The next getaway for only us two. Being able to go to bed, knowing that there will be no interruptions, no screaming, no runny noses to wipe, no potty trips in the middle of the night or trips downstairs to fetch medicine in the early morning hours. Just glorious, deep, relieved sleep.

We are SO looking forward to our next break in October.