Oh, the luxury of a night nurse it sounded like heaven. 'What time does she come in?'

'She arrives at seven in the evening and leaves at seven in the morning.'

'Wow, it sounds great.'

'It is. By seven I'm ready to hand Clara over. My cleaning lady babysits for three hours during the day, from eleven to two, so I can exercise and do some work. But I find after five hours of just changing nappies and giving bottles, I'm ready to hand the baby over. It's pretty boring and she cries after her bottles and vomits up a lot. I've actually started putting a bath towel over myself when I'm feeding her. My clothes were getting ruined.'

'I don't remember the triplets as babies at all. It's a complete blur. And when I had Tom they still needed to be looked after, so I was never bored overcome, overworked, overtired, yes, but never bored. You sound like you have it sussed.'

'Well, I need to be clear-headed, going back to work. The night nurse is going to stay for six weeks to get Clara sleeping through the night and then I'll just keep her routine exactly as it is and that's it.'

I smiled. No baby, not even Louise's, would stick to a routine. She'd get colds and coughs and teeth and earache: there would be many nights when routine went out of the window. 'When does she start in the creche?'

'Tomorrow.'

I winced. It just didn't seem right to put a tiny baby into a creche, no matter how posh it was. 'Couldn't your cleaning lady look after her for a few more weeks until she's a bit stronger?' I suggested.

'Julie, it's not a big depressing room stuffed with babies. They only have six under three months in the nursery room. They have three properly qualified maternity nurses looking after them. It's a lovely room, white and pristine. Everything is washed and disinfected daily and there's a GP who specializes in kids next door, should they need him. She'll have better care there than with any childminder. To be honest, I feel much happier leaving her with professionals than with my cleaning lady. Agnes is great, but if Clara got sick or anything happened, I'd prefer her to have nurses and a doctor close by.'

'I suppose you're right. How's your scar? Is it sore?'

'It hurts a bit today. I went for a run and probably did too much.'

'You have to be careful, Lou. You don't want it to open up.'

'I know, I know. I'll take it easy tomorrow. I'm just dying to get fit again, although I'm already back in my jeans, which is great.'

Typical. The skinny cow was back in her jeans after three weeks and I hadn't got mine over my thighs since the triplets were born almost five years ago.

'You lucky thing! Have you been starving yourself?'

'No, I've just been following a high-protein/low-carb diet that my trainer gave me. I'm only doing it for a month and then I'm going to start reintroducing carbohydrates and eat the way I always do. When I'm running for an hour a day I can eat what I want and I never liked junk food anyway. It's not hard to maintain.'

'Can you fax me the diet?'

'Julie, I gave you the perfect regime to follow in January.'

'I know, but I was hungry all the time. Maybe this one will suit me better.'

'OK, but what you need is more willpower.'

'Well, I guess you got all the self-discipline genes when you were born and there were none left for me.'

Louise laughed. 'I'd better go. I want to get ten hours' sleep so I'm fresh for tomorrow.'

'Do you have any idea what a luxury that is for a new mum or any mum for that matter?'

'Maybe you should try The Contented Little Baby routine on the boys again. I'm sure it works on all ages.'

'Louise, the triplets are almost five. How am I supposed to do controlled crying on kids that can walk, run and jump? If they don't want to stay in bed, they just get up. Even Tom can climb out of his cot. I'm way beyond routines.'

'Well, Clara is doing the routine, no matter what. I need my sleep.'

'Won't you miss her all day?' I asked.

'I doubt it. I'll be too busy. I barely have time to grab a sandwich in work. Besides, I'll see her in the evening and the morning, so it'll be fine.'

'Well, good luck in work.'

'Thanks. I need to show those vultures that I'm still at the top of my game and haven't become a leaky, bleary-eyed mess.'

Louise had just described me and millions of other new mothers.

I went in to talk to Harry. He jumped when he realized I was there and closed his laptop. 'Louise has Clara in a routine that the SAS would find difficult to follow.'

Harry half smiled. I could see he wasn't listening. I sat down beside him. 'Harry, what's wrong? You're not yourself. Talk to me.'

He put his hand out and took mine. 'I'm just stressed with work and tired. I'll feel better after a decent night's sleep. I'm going to crash out now.'

'If you're not feeling better tomorrow, you should go to the doctor. And if that project is going to make you this strung out, maybe you should pass it on to someone else.'

'It's fine, Julie, seriously. Forget about it.'

I left him and went to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Then I logged on to see if I'd had any replies to my last posting on mumskeepingsane.com. Wow! There were more than two hundred. They had come from women whose husbands had taken salary cuts, like Harry, and from women whose husbands had lost their jobs and were now trying to survive on the dole. Harry's request for us to cut back on all TV channels, including cartoons, was a hot topic.

MiniMum responded: Under no circumstance are you to let that husband of yours take away the cartoon channels. They are our lifeline. We will DIE without them.

Hazel5 said she thought TV was bad for kids and made them hyper. She said I'd be better off letting them play and reading them books and doing arts and crafts with them.

MiniMum ranted at Hazel5: Who the hell wants to do arts and bloody crafts at seven o'clock in the evening? You've just tidied up the kitchen. The last thing you want is cotton balls, glue and paint all over the table. Clearly, Hazel5, you don't have sons. Arts and crafts my arse.

Hazel5 was quick to respond: Actually, MiniMum, I do have a son and he loves to paint and doesn't make a mess. He goes to bed calmly and without any fuss because he hasn't been driven into a frenzy by noisy and violent cartoons.

MiniMum: Well, he's obviously weird.

Hazel5: He's perfectly normal. In fact he's extremely clever.

MiniMum: I knew it. He's one of those nerdy kids with intellectual snobs for parents. I bet all he wants to do is play and be a normal kid but you and your husband insist that he reads books and paints and listens to classical music and learns Japanese in his spare time.

Hazel5: It's Mandarin, actually which is Chinese to a Philistine like you.

MiniMum: **%&&*%$'* which is a line of expletives to a knob-head like you.

There was a lot of sympathy for my cancelled fortieth-birthday trip to Paris. Lots of women made suggestions of alternatives and one kind mum offered to lend me her apartment in Paris if I wanted it. Imagine a stranger offering to lend you their apartment! Obviously I couldn't accept, but it was still a really nice offer.

The biggest response by far was to the part about having lost the romance in our relationship. Almost all the respondents said they felt the same way too swamped to give time to their husbands and their relationships, but desperate to rekindle romance.

One woman disagreed. JayneyB wrote: Seriously, ladies, get a grip. Do you think your husbands go to the pub with their mates and sit around talking about how they wish they could fall in love with their wives again? That they want to hold hands and kiss? No, they don't. They're talking about sport and cars. We should be out drinking wine and having fun, not sitting around moaning about lost romance. It's pathetic.

Needless to say, there was a big reaction to that too.

I started a new posting: Threescompany: Hi, Mums, I was delighted to see the response to my last message. There were some lively debates, which is always healthy!

I've just been on the phone to my sister. She lives in London. She's forty-one, had a baby three weeks ago and is going back to work tomorrow. Can you believe it? I think she's mad, she thinks I'm mad. My life to her is hell, her life to me is hell. She works twelve-hour days in an incredibly stressful job. She said if she didn't go back to work after three weeks, they would presume she'd lost her edge. She'd be considered a lost cause, a mother, a woman no longer married to her job, distracted, unreliable, unfocused, unworthy of being a partner in the law firm.

So, after three weeks, she's going back. She thinks it's going to be fine. She thinks the baby will just slot into her life. But anyone who's had a child, no matter how sweet and angelic they are, knows that babies march to their own drum. You might get them into a routine, but one ear infection, one cold, one night of teething and it's back to square one.

I'm worried about her and the baby. I'm worried that she won't have time to bond with the baby and the baby won't know who her mother is. The child is going to a creche, starting tomorrow she's only three weeks old! It's a super-posh one with loads of maternity nurses and all that, but can you imagine putting a newborn into a creche for ten hours a day? It just seems cruel. I suggested she should get a childminder into the apartment, but she shot me down. The creche is open all year round it only closes on Christmas Day and Easter Monday. My sister always works during the holidays, so I guess it'll suit her to be flexible. Did I mention the dad isn't involved? She got pregnant on a one-night stand. So she's on her own, which is so tough. Although if anyone can do it on her own, it's my sister. She's so capable.

And now for a little moan. Both of my sisters were back in their jeans three weeks after giving birth. It makes me sick. How come I didn't get those genes (pun intended)? They are so disciplined and focused. Then again, they do only have one child each. I often wonder if the triplets had been just one baby would my life be completely different? Would I have got my figure back and enjoyed the early days? I honestly can't remember anything about the first year but the searing pain behind my eyes caused by exhaustion. I wonder if I would have enjoyed the happy-clappy playgroups with one baby, instead of dreading them because my three kids were the noisiest and the most boisterous, and all the other mums avoided me like the plague. I stopped going after a while because I knew that the boys and I weren't welcome. Even the playgroup leader used to roll her eyes when I staggered in, three babies in tow.

I'm always beating myself up for not being as together as my sisters but, actually, I'd like to see how they would have coped with triplets. I'd like to see how slim and toned and well dressed they would be after giving birth to three feisty little boys, who were always hungry and rarely slept. Maybe I should give myself a break maybe I didn't do so badly. I can say this now because the really hard drudge is almost over. The triplets will be going to proper school next year from 9 a.m. until 1.30 p.m. with the option of after-school care. I am determined to start getting my life back then. I swore I'd drop two dress sizes before my fortieth. I wanted to look well in Paris, but when the trip was cancelled I ate because I was depressed. Now I've probably gone up a size. I know I need to be more disciplined. I know I need to stop making excuses and just get fit, but it's hard. Isn't it? Don't you think? Or is it just me? Am I just lazy and pathetic?

I don't know why my husband even wants to have sex with me. I'm all flabby in the wrong places. But he still seems very keen. If I look at him sideways, he jumps on top of me. Maybe if I was thinner and fitter I'd feel sexier and be more up for it too. Maybe if I had more sex I'd be thinner and fitter. I don't know. Maybe I just need to stop pontificating and get off my arse and do something about it. If my sisters can do it, why can't I?

I also have one brother an afterthought. He's sixteen years younger than me and is currently living in a tent near Heathrow, with a girl who looks like Angelina Jolie. He has no responsibilities, no dependants, no bills (well, he has Visa bills, which my mother pays for him), no mortgage, no car, no baggage. He just packed a small knapsack and took off to London. I envy him his freedom. He can go anywhere and do anything. He is not permanently stalked by four children. He can shower and go to the loo in peace. On the other hand, he doesn't have a clue what he's doing with his life. He's currently going through an eco-warrior phase, which I know won't last.

He's at that stage where he's just left college and still has no idea what to do. I was the same. I drifted to London and ended up in recruitment because I was offered a job and it seemed easy. I think if I could turn the clock back, I'd focus more on finding a career I really enjoyed. Something I could pick up again after the boys are in school. I'd hate to see my little brother drift through life. It's harder for men because they are traditionally the bread-winners, hunter-gatherers, protectors. I see it with my husband he feels so guilty every time he gets a pay cut. Even though it's not his fault, he feels responsible. He feels he's let the family down. But he hasn't and I don't feel that way at all about it. But if I'm being totally honest, sometimes I do fantasize about being married to a millionaire ...

Anyway, I hope my brother figures out what he wants to do with his life while he's in the tent in between shagging the stunning girl and trying to save the planet! It's important that he likes his career: he'll be working in it for forty years. I look at my older sister and I see how much she loves her job and what satisfaction and fulfilment it brings to her life. I want that for my little brother too.

I thought being a mother would bring me that and sometimes I do feel fulfilled and content, but if I'm being totally honest, a lot of the time I don't ...

20.

Louise.

It felt great to be back in work. I had set my alarm for six, gone for a short run before the night nurse left, then taken my time getting ready. I wanted to look good. I wanted to look unchanged. I wanted to look in charge. I put on a new black Jaeger trouser suit and high heels.

Walking into the office I felt a huge surge of adrenalin. I could see everyone checking me out. The women were looking at my stomach to see if I'd lost the baby weight and the men were impressed that I was back so soon.

My secretary, Jasmine, jumped up and hugged me. It was awkward: we'd never hugged before, it wasn't that kind of a relationship she was my secretary, not my friend. I just patted her shoulder and stepped back.

'How are you? How is little Clara? Can I see a picture?' she enthused.

'I'm fine, she's fine, and I don't have any photos.'

She stared at me, open-mouthed. 'Didn't you take any at all?'

'Um, no, I just forgot. I think my mother took a few but ...' I trailed off. Jasmine was looking at me as if I was a freak. I'd never thought about photos: I'd been too busy trying to look after Clara and get myself ready for work. I'd take some at the weekend.

'Well, congratulations,' she said, and handed me a present.

'Oh, God, you shouldn't have.' I felt rotten. I'd never bought any presents for her kids. I always gave her a very generous voucher for Selfridges at Christmas, but that was it.

'It'll come in useful. My babies loved being in it.' Jasmine pointed at the present.

She was clearly waiting for me to open it, so I did. It was a ?

'It's a sling,' she said, coming over to show me how to put it on. 'If Clara gets fussy and you want to calm her down but still need to do things, you put her in the sling and you still have two free arms. It's great for doing things around the house or going shopping or going on the tube, all those kinds of things.'

'Very useful. Thanks, Jasmine, it was really thoughtful of you.'

'No problem. It must have been hard leaving her today,' she said, her voice full of sympathy.

'Oh, yes yes, it was,' I lied. I hadn't found it hard at all. The difficult part was trying to get out of the house without forgetting something soothers, change of clothes, bibs ... I'd been determined to get to the office for seven fifteen. The creche opened at seven, and I was standing outside at five to. I had literally handed her to the nurse with a list of instructions about adhering strictly to her routine and then I had rushed into work.

Just as I was trying to get the baby-sling off, Alex arrived. He looked at it and frowned. 'Welcome back. How is the little fellow?'

'Fine, thanks,' I said, not bothering to correct him. Alex wouldn't care if I'd had sextuplets: he just wanted to know that I could function. I showed him into my office, ripped the sling off and threw the stupid thing under my desk.

'Where are we with the Gordon Hanks acquisition?' he enquired.

Gordon Hanks was an American client, who also just happened to be married to Alex's sister. Alex had his brother-in-law on a bit of a pedestal. I could see why Gordon was a charismatic man. He was also a hugely successful entrepreneur, a multi-millionaire and a philanthropist. He was a personal friend of Bill Clinton. He played golf with Jack Nicklaus, tennis with Jimmy Connors and had dined at the White House with three different presidents.

I turned to face my boss. 'I spoke to Gordon yesterday and he seems very keen to forge ahead with the purchase of Lifechange TV. He wants us to negotiate on his behalf.'

Alex looked relieved. 'Excellent. You know how important it is to me that we do a good job on this. That's why I chose you to be in charge. It's good to have you back, Louise. I was worried you'd come in sleep deprived and longing to be at home with the baby. I can see I was wrong. Let's do lunch and discuss the finer details of the purchase. I've got meetings all morning so I'll meet you in Goff's at one.'

'Perfect. See you then.'

As Alex left, Dominic slunk in. 'Hell of a round on Saturday, Alex,' he smarmed.

'Ah, yes, I was on form.' Alex beamed.

'You were on fire three birdies in a row on the back nine is very rare.'

God, Dominic was sickening. Could he crawl any further up Alex's arse?

'It was a very enjoyable day. Your father was excellent company, as always,' Alex said.

'He said the same thing about you. We must have a rematch soon.'

'Absolutely, excellent idea. I might ask Zachary to join us.'

Bloody hell! Alex had just offered to get Zachary Gray, CEO of the firm, to play golf with Dominic. Damn, damn, damn! Why hadn't I taken up golf in college? It was the one area I fell down on. I couldn't play, and every time I had tried to get lessons and practice, work had got in the way.

'That would be wonderful,' Dominic purred. 'I know my father and Zachary would get on famously. They have a passion for classic cars in common.'

'Ah, yes, of course. Well, let's set it up in the next week or so.'

'I look forward to it,' Dominic said, smirking at me.