UNTIL last month my family comprised - not counting the seven fish and a cat - my wife, our daughter and me.

Not any longer. All that changed on July 15. That's when our son, Matthew, was born. Just when sleepless nights, dirty nappies and mountains of washing were things of the past, we were plunged into the world of bringing up a baby once more.

It's different this time, though. Louise and I are a little bit older (though none the wiser), while our four-year-old daughter Emily is old enough to lend a hand.

But the biggest difference is how much more relaxed we are about everything.

Friends predicted this.

You won't press your ear to the baby's lips every time you think he's stopped breathing, they said. Nor will you panic every time he cries.

What I hadn't realised, though, was how much I've forgotten in four short years.

I couldn't remember how to strap the car seat in the back of my Mondeo when I was due to collect mum and baby from the hospital. I couldn't get the straps in the right grooves and the buckle wouldn't go into the seat belt slot - it felt like I was weaving wicker in boxing gloves, and by the time I'd finished the thing resembled a parachute tangled in a tree.

It would have been safer strapping Matthew to the back of an ostrich stampeding along the edge of Beachy Head.

Thanks to a gentle reminder from my wife (i.e. shouting) we sorted it out.

After getting Emily through toilet training, I thought I had nappy changing down to a fine art. But what I was forgetting was that changing a girl is one thing. Changing a boy is a whole new experience.

There were horror stories of parents being splashed in the eye by their little boy's little fellah. The best strategy, I was told, was to cover the offending water cannon with a piece of tissue paper while attending to the matter in hand. It's not fool-proof, however, as I can attest (I have the soggy trousers and T-shirt to prove it!).

Emily sleeps from 7pm to 7am these days. Bliss. But with Matthew feeding every couple of hours through the night, Louise and I are experiencing the joy of sleep deprivation all over again.

We're surviving, but we've had to accept that we're zombies for much of the time. I usually change Matthew's nappy at about 6am and try to get my head down for a bit more snoozing, but generally by 7am Emily's awake and yanking at my pyjama sleeve to make her some breakfast.

Some of our friends have three children and they say the difference between having one and two is not so huge. The quantum leap, they say, is when you have your third. That may be so, but two is quite hectic enough, thank you very much.

Life is certainly busy and it's tiring, but at least we know that once Matthew's into a proper routine things will get easier.

That aside, having a new member of the family is the most wonderful life-changing experience.