At 9:30 on Sunday evening I gave up and headed to bed. I was shattered and heading into the crappest part of my monthly cycle. I needed my sleep.
I hadn't even managed to drop off when Matt appeared with a wriggling Ollie in his arms who was screaming to go "downstairs".
He didn't want a cuddle, he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to go downstairs and sit with Mummy and Daddy whilst they watched riveting repeats of Downton Abbey on Amazon Prime (because Sundays are not the same without acid-laced comments from the Dowager Countess).
He wriggled. He sat up. He climbed over Matt's legs and attempted to escape. He cried "Nooooo!" and "Downstairs!" over and over until I stuck my head under the pillow and prayed for it just to stop.
Which it finally did and we all snuggled down under the covers. I did that thing where you count how many hours you'd get to sleep if you drifted off right now.
So obviously, I didn't fall asleep quickly.
I tried. But it's hard when you have a small child's arm across your neck and you can't move without falling off the bed.
After a bit of fidgeting, I'd just slipped into blissful sleep when I was woken by being bonked on the head by a juice cup. How, I have no idea because by that time Ollie had settled into his favourite position of feet by my head.
It was an uncomfortable night.
Then, at precisely 3:32am, I hear Lily's voice.
"Mummy! Can I have a cuddle?"
And my heart says yes, I want to cuddle you all the time. I love you so much I might burst. I love snuggling you whilst we sleep.
Buy my brain and my body are quivering in terror. We just want to sleep. There isn't enough space in a double bed for four people. This isn't fair. We just want to sleep!
And Daddy betrays all by lifting his right arm and allowing the fourth member of the family into a particularly small space.
Then he spends the next half hour huffing and sighing in frustration because he can't get comfortable whilst squashed between the two smallest ones.
I can understand why the Little One told everyone to roll over until they dropped on the floor. I was tempted to just start pushing until they lay in a heap. Leaving the bed all to myself.
But I didn't. Cause when you're a Mum you can't do stuff like that. Damnit.
By the time 4:13 was glowing in red on the alarm clock by the bed I gave up and made Matt take Lily back to her bed. Unlike her Mum, she had fallen into a wonderful deep sleep and Matt had to carefully maneuver her spread-eagle form through the door without banging any extremities on the frame.
Ollie was also taken back to his cot.
My loving husband crawled back under the covers and went to give me a cuddle. By which point I'd had more than enough human contact and so went for just a quick squeeze before rolling over and counting down the couple of hours sleep I had left before the start of a new day.
You'd think that after all that I would have gone to sleep straight away. But alas. That is never the case is it?
How much sleep did you get last night? I promise to not get jealous if it was more than me!