When they asked if I’d stay in their room while they fell asleep I pushed the thought of the waiting wine to the back of my mind and drank them in instead, watching as they chatted nonsense to each other and wriggled around. When Chloe then turned to me, her eyes wide and imploring as she asked, ‘Will you lay with me?’ I practically jumped in her bed. I lay with her in my arms, sniffing her head, until she eventually gave in to the heaviness of sleep – which did take a little while longer thanks to the day’s danger nap. Once I was sure she’d nodded off I kissed her soft lips and untangled myself, completely filled with gratitude and love. Those are the moments that keep you going when it all gets a bit haphazard and stressful – and they’re the ones forcing mothers to declare motherhood (which I’d average as ninety per cent shit-show) to be utterly amazing and life-affirming – and they’re the ones you have to cling on to and cherish when they do randomly happen.

Even though I’m later than usual to walk down the stairs and get on with putting the day to rest and getting started on the next, I realize with clarity that I needed that moment with the kids. I’ve been reset. I head straight to the kitchen to get on with the washing up and tidying the rest of the dinner things away, aware that my chest doesn’t feel quite so heavy as I take in the mess.

I pop a podcast (an old Adam Buxton episode with Louis Theroux) on my phone before sliding it into my back pocket and zoning out while listening to their conversation about fathers and writing. While allowing my mind to run elsewhere, I get cracking.

An hour later, with a house that looks as it did when the day started and with bags and outfits prepped for tomorrow, I’m just pulling my Marigolds off when my phone starts vibrating in my pocket.

Nick.

‘Hello?’ I answer, chucking the pink rubber gloves back into the cleaning cupboard before reaching into the fridge for that long-awaited glass of wine.

When Barnaby was a baby I wouldn’t dream of having a drink if it were just me at home, wondering what I’d do if something happened – like one of us got ill or a burglar broke in. I’m not sure when that changed but I decide to push away the mum-guilt that creeps up on me and enjoy the glug glug glug of the tangy white wine as it pours into the glass. Music to my ears.

‘Are they both asleep?’ Nick asks.