People say newborns and sleep are mutually exclusive, but I can say that the horror of house hunting with babies on board is a close contender for doing your head in. In the back of an old notebook, I recently found notes which recorded the time and duration of each breastfeed for my newborn baby. Which side I fed from, and for how long: 10.31am L 15 R17 12.45am L22 R15 And inevitably 1.33am, 5.04am etc. At the front of the notebook, I had recorded the upcoming inspection and auction times for houses for sale: Thornbury, 15 Wales St 12.30-1 Northcote, 23 Derby St 1-1.30 Fairfield, 9 Gillies St 1.45-2.15 North Fitzroy, 35 Miller St etc etc repeat for 18 months of Saturdays. Weekend after weekend, we drove tired, hungry, poopy-pants babies in concentric rings around our northern suburbs, in search of a home with more than a lean-to for a kitchen, and a curtain for a bathroom door. In those days, the budget was sitting around $600-$750,000, and those prices were realistic. Although the No