I met up with two friends Thursday night for a couple of drinks and something to eat. It's not a regular occurrence, we maybe get together 4 or 5 times a year and as usual we had a cracking time.
By the time I got in it was 11pm - that's really late for me these days; I'm usually in bed for 10pm. Unfortunately, rather than helping me sleep I find a couple of glasses of wine have the opposite effect and I lay awake for a good hour before drifting off.
Then, Thomas was sick. Very sick. Not a hang your head over the bed and make it easy for Mum to wipe up sick. No. It was a sit up and projectile vomit sick covering himself, the quilt, the sheet and the pillows. And there was lots of it.
So at 3.10am I found myself bleary eyed, telling Mark about my night out whilst washing Thomas down, stripping the bed, putting a wash on and re-making the bed.
With Thomas settled back down and both of us now wide awake we decided to have a cuppa before heading back upstairs at 4.30am.
I think I finally drifted off around 6am. The alarm went off at 7am for Amy and at 8am Thomas woke me up to tell me he was hungry. You can have anything you want, I said. He thought for a minute and asked, Do you really mean anything? I nodded. OK, I'll have chicken nuggets and chips he said.
At 8.15am I was in the kitchen cooking nuggets and chips for him.
By 10am I was knackered and ready to go back to bed.
There's never a dull moment at Number 38.