When I sat up in bed in the early hours of this morning, cradling Linc and crying I knew I'd just about reached the edge of sanity.
It doesn't help that I go to tears at the drop of a hat these days. Or the fact that everything seems so much worse in the cold dead of night. But I am exhausted.
My brain has long deserted me, turning to mush in the wishy-washy days of early twin parenting. My body has been invaded by a little being currently the size of a fig, which has taken over with complete and utter determination that its mind boggling, (if I had a mind). It's drained my strength, left my gag reflux so sensitive that a cough can send me on a dash to the bathroom, and I can feel my hips starting to deteriorate already.
I am at the beck and call of 2 twin terrors, 1 controlling squishy bug and a big grumpy poppa bear that, most of the time, just doesn't seem to get it.
I am extremely grateful for everything I have.
I realise that there are far worse things in the world and I shouldn't complain.
But the reality of it is, in the middle of the night, when the world is silent with sleep, yet you're awake and exhausted, you can't think of other people's misery. It just doesn't happen.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.