The alarm went off at half-past six this morning. I got the older children ready for school and fed and dressed Annie. I was exhausted as I’d been up with Annie five or six times in the night again.

Tom stayed in bed sleeping until just after nine o’clock when I got back from the school run.

He came downstairs and said, “All I could hear all morning was you flapping around like a headless chicken. You need to be more organised so the mornings aren’t such a rush. It’s your fault the mornings are difficult; you make them that way by flapping so much.”

This is the norm for our daily routine. I do everything; he stays in bed and sleeps. If he does get up before nine, he has a long shower, eats his breakfast nice and slowly while watching the news or going on his laptop. He spends the whole time moaning at me about making the children late.

It would never occur to him to actually do something to help me; instead, he just criticises me and puts me down more.