Hits

1.  Roast Beef

2.  Short Sharp Shock

3.  Red Red Wine

One of my mad, over-scheduled days. Son 1 aged 4y 9m, Son 2 aged 21m, Wonder Nanny and I were heading up to the Fun Park… and then we were having six friends round for dinner.  Tra la la.  I went for a run while the boys had breakfast.  We left before 11, stopping off at The Farm Shop to get the meat – a sirloin joint. ( I am an idle vegetarian cook.  Take one slab of good meat, put in oven for one hour plus, bingo, guests grateful and impressed.)  Son 2 was asleep, Son 1 wanted to get out. A peacock was parading its tail, so we let him. 

We got to the Fun Park in time for lunch. Both boys picked, but ate mighty pieces of cake. Soft Play Zone, then Scooby Doo house. Then a horse show in the rain.  The Fun Park train stood waiting in front of us as it finished, with the rain lashing down. We got in it. In the seats behind us was a family – very young dad, three year old ish boy, seven year old ish boy, young mum, very new (13 weeks) baby.  We chatted. Son 1 and Son 2 blagged cake from them.  Then the three year old boy bit the dad and the dad slapped him, hard and loud. The boy wailed.  ”Don’t bite me. Give us a kiss. I love you,” said the dad. ”What did he just do to that boy?” asked Son 1.  It was sudden, it was shocking, it was sickening.  I don’t think it was legal.  And the only thing I did was Stop Talking To Them.

We got back home at about 5, and The Man had manoeuvred a whopping sheet of plywood out of his shed and down into the kitchen-diner.  Son 1 looked at it. “Will there be crackers?” Which tells you when we last did a dinner party. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/30/whales-and-snails/  We got the boys to bed “You can come down once.  If you come down once, you get a pirate book tomorrow. If you come down more than once, there will be no book. That’s the deal.”  Couple One arrived while I was down at the shops getting horse radish.  It has been so long since we did dinner that I timed the main course and the starter to be ready at the same time. Ar.  Didn’t matter. Clever menu.  Prawns, then Beef, new potatoes  and salads.  I had sun dried tomatoes and salads.  Couple Two arrived, then Couple Three, bringing an iPod with an Eighties Mix on it. We spent a happy evening guessing the songs.  We had a great time. Apart from me putting two bottles of red wine in the freezer.

Secret Pictures

1.  Secret Screams

2.  Secret Pictures

3.  Secret Peace

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has escaped Night Terrors. Other Mums have sat there with their screaming, staring children, sleeping spookily bolt upright in bed as they yelled and yelled.  Not Son 1. Until we put Son 2 aged 21m in with him.  And lo.  Last night.  Shouts and screams, loud enough to wake The Terrace.  While sound asleep.  Son 2 – who can be woken by an eyeblink  – slept through it. 

Wonder Nanny has an eye problem, so we were on our own today.  The children were worn out, so we aimed at a Boat Trip, the idea being, as usual, that the chug of the Little Fishing Boat engine would White Noise the lads off to sleep. And The Man and I would get Peace And Quiet.  Son 1 didn’t want to go on The Boat.  Son 1 had seen Mr Maker doing secret pictures.  White wax crayons, biscuit cutters and ink.  He was busting.  We left Son 2 playing with water (”Wa Wa. Wa Wa.”) in the garden while we quickly made the secret pictures. I crayoned. Son 1 inked.  He loved the results.

Son 2 saw some choc rolls going into the picnic bag.  “Choc choc. Choc choc.” He pushed a little green chair across the kitchen, stood up and pulled the picnic bag off. It fell on his head, and knocked him off the chair. He landed on his bag on the floor with the picnic bag on top of him.  Both boys dived for lunch as soon as we got out on The Boat.  I’d forgotten the suntan lotion, which ruled out the beach as an option.  We chugged along the river instead. Son 2 eventually went to sleep. Son 1 didn’t. He painted in the cabin. The Man and I drank coffee. ”Is there any hot chocolate for children?” asked Son 1. Good point. We’ll get some.  The river is wide and peaceful, greenly wooded on each side below great expanses of sky.  Like swimming in the sea, it helps.

Dead Crabs And Dracula

1.  Terrible Teeth

2.  Terrible Claws

3.  Turned Out Toes

Moving The Cot into Son 1 aged 4y 9m’s room was kind of successful.  Son 2 aged 21m slept through and slept till 0730. Son 1 however was up in the Big Bed by about 0030. 

We went to the Rockpool Beach with the full set of Wednesday Friends. Son 1 refused his sunsuit and ran off with his Best Friend. They headed off, hundreds of yards down the beach and out over the rocks.  Best Friend’s Little Brother was playing with a Big Truck, Three Year Old Friend was playing in the sand. Son 2 aged 21m trogged down to the water’s edge.  He trogged back again and tugged at the food bag. “Food. Food.”  Four periwinkles rolled down the beach mat next to him.  He settled for  a drink “Joos. Joos” and toddled off to the rock pools again.  One Wednesday Mother went for a sea swim.  I put my costume on.  There was a howl and a scream from Best Friend.  We stood and peered.  His Mother went over. “There’s blood everywhere,” shouted Son 1.  Best Friend had fallen and bitten through his bottom lip.  Blood dripped all over his bare chest and tummy. “It’s like Dracula,” said Son 1.  HIs  Mother cleaned him up.  The imprints of his two big front teeth were clear in his fat bottom lip.

We ate lunch, the children rejecting The Man’s chicken sandwiches in favour of the smartie and jelly tot cakes I bought for tea on Monday.  A Book Club Mum arrived with her little girl. I heaved Son 1 and Son 2 over to the loo, and then took them down to the low tide-line to look for fish and crabs.  Our tally was two dead crabs, and one still alive which had only three legs. I couldn’t cope with that one and had to put it back in the sea. Son 2 carried his dead crab around proudly. “Bab. Bab.” He held out the bucket “Fish.”  We couldn’t find any fish. Best Friend, Little Brother and Mother left.  I cajoled the children back up the beach, although Son 1 still wanted to play. At the beach mat, Son 2 lay down on his back and looked at me. Son 1 curled up on the sand.  I put up the beach tent for them to play in and went for a quick swim in the sea.  Icy but fab. The water was turquoise, long seaweed fingers stroked at me as I swam out and back. I didn’t spend long in, and after I came back the others left. I put the boys in the car, drove home and they were both deeply asleep. The Man joined us for an ice cream at the Headland. The  boys woke up. Just as well I’d got them ice cream.

We got them both in bed and asleep at 7.30pm. I went out for a run. I’ve changed my route – I now run through The Town and over towards the Rockpool Beach, although I can’t quite get there in the 15 min out and back I’m currently trying. I’ve bought new trainers – Nikes, after I checked out a few cheaper ones.  In the shop, the assistant offered me a Nike Chip to put in my shoe.  It will then register with my Ipod, and play fast music when I run fast and slow music when i run slow.  I said no. Too humiliating if it never chooses fast music for me.

Cuffs And Kerchiefs

1.  Pirates

2.  Lunch a deux

3.  The Cot

Back in with Son 2 aged 21m as I’m still not sleeping. Wakened by “Mummmeeee.” I peered round the pile of pillows I’d put between me and the cot to stop him seeing me. He peered back. “Boo,” he said.  I picked him up. “Wa-wa,” he said, pointing to the  glass on the bedside table.  I gave him a gulp, and laid him down beside me in the double bed. “Up,” he said.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m was already downstairs watching telly with The Man.  Son 1 has been busting for me to play pirates with him.  Pang.  I played it with him on Sunday but cannot remember the last time we played together before then.  He had the treasure, the monsters and the Tower Of Doom. My pirates were going to attack the castle. I put together an airforce of four Peter Pans and Tinkerbell, ready to attack his three-headed dragon. I took my eye off the Playmobil pirates for an instant and they’d been scalped, their earrings stolen. “Earrings are treasure,” I was told. Son 1 is Very Particular about how the Playmobil pirates are dressed – they can never vary from how they came out of their boxes. I’d put them together any old how.  Every now and then, during the battle, Son 1 stopped and looked at my efforts, shaking his head. “That is just so wrong.”  Afterwards, he and Wonder Nanny dressed them properly. She of course knows every set of cuffs and kerchiefs.

The Man and I left the boys with Wonder Nanny and went for lunch.  For us, a Good Thing.  We decided to move Son 2 into Son 1’s bedroom so I can read in bed if I can’t sleep.   We want them in together, and this week is a good time because I’m off and can sort/get up if things don’t work out.  

When we got back Wonder Nanny left for a doctor’s appointment.  The boys and I watched Ice Age.     ”Son 1, would you like to have Son 2 ’s cot in with you?” “Yes! Yes! Let’s move it now!” “Son 2, would you like us to put your cot in Son 1’s room so you can sleep with him?” “No.”  Wails from Son 1. Clearly, Son 2 hadn’t understood.  “Would you like to sleep with Son 1?” “No.”   I gave it one more shot. “Shall we put your cot next to Son 1’s bed?” “No.”  And yet it moved.  I really don’t think Son 2 was happy, but Son 1 was delighted.   I lay Son 2 down in the cot.  In the same position, in the same place Son 1 used to sleep, till he was about 2y 9m, when we moved him into his bed to get the cot clear for the arrival of Son 2.  Another Pang, and I don’t think it was back trouble.

The Mighty One

1.  Fish Food

2.  Swimming Like Fish

3.  Schools

Son 1 aged 4y 9m can never pass a leaflet stand without helping himself.  He has been studying a favourite for weeks; a flyer for a holiday park near The Happening Town with a mega swimming pool. The forecast today was ropey, so I decided we’d go. We stopped off at Wonder Nanny’s new house to pick up her bikini.  The boys have been, I haven’t.  “Fish,” said Son 2 aged 21m. “Darling we’re not going in the garden, we’re just having a quick look round and then we’re going swimming,” I said. “Fish,” said Son 2. “Not today, Son 2,” said Wonder Nanny. “I’m just showing Mummy the house.”  Son 2 picked up a tub of fish food and headed for the back door.  “Fish.” We went out to look at the fishpong.  There are about 10 small goldfish, and one larger lighter one.  The boys sprinkled fish food.  “Where’s the Mighty One?” said Son 1. “I can’t see it,” said Wonder Nanny. “Fiance must have fed the fish, they’re not hungry, are they?” “That leaf on the bottom at the back looks like a dead frog,” I said. ”Where’s the big one?” said Son 1. “I don’t know,” said Wonder Nanny. “I suppose a cat could have got it.” Pause. “You know that does look like a bit like a frog.” I peered. “Ah.  I think that might be the remnants of the Mighty One.”  No wonder they weren’t hungry.  

I’ve taken this week off thinking it wouldn’t too busy because most schools haven’t broken up.  But the Holiday Park Swimming Pool was elbow-bumpingly busy. The boys loved it – there was a great baby/toddler area and Son 2 loved the little slide… there were bubbles.. there were three huge slides.  Son 1 was only allowed on one, with me, and we had to queue for ages each of the three times we went down.  A gent in front of us had his late father’s face and birth and death dates tattoo-ed on his shoulder blade. The pool was well worth it, but the rest of it was like being whizzed back in time. Vauxhall Holiday Park, Great Yarmouth, 1973. Shamba Holiday Camp, Dorset, even earlier. If Sugar Baby Love had belted out of the speakers I would have suspected a head injury.   I felt strangely comfortable.  “Was that great, or what?” said Son 1, swinging his noodle as we left.     

Best Friend came round when we got back, armed with a sword, a handgun and a pistol. “Sorry,” said his mother. He had his taster session at his new school this afternoon. Pang.  Best Friend lives on the doorstep of the Tiny Outstanding Village School I had my eye on for Son 1.  I didn’t apply in the end, thinking we wouldn’t have a chance of getting him in.  So Son 1’s staying on for Reception at his current place 12 miles away.  It’s a fantastic place.  But they’re so good together. As soon as Best Friend came round, they piled into the dressing up box and emerged as pirates.  They played, utterly absorbed, with Son 1’s huge pirate toy collection till tea, then piled down, giggling, snorting, making farting noises, calling each other Poo Poo Head and having sword fights with the dipping vegetables.  Best Fried ate great piles, Son 1 picked like a supermodel. After tea they went out in the garden with bows and arrows. After a great many threats they got the hang of not firing at Son 2.

I Capture The Castle

1.  Tower

2.  Towel

3.  Trowel

I ended up in the Double Bed in Son 2 aged 21m’s room last night. With Son 2 and Son 1 aged 4y 9m. Didn’t work. Son 1 kept trying to reach across Son 2 to eyebrow me. Son 2 didn’t want him anywhere near him. Son 2 kept snaking off under the pillows, crying when he went too fast and bumped the top of his head on the wall.  Son 1 didn’t want him in the middle. In the end I put Son 2 back in the cot and passed out.   We stuck a Wiggles DVD on when they woke, but that didn’t work either.  Son 1 wanted to play with his Tower Of Doom.  I tugged it out from the corner of the room. Son 1 presented me with a dead fly he’d found on it.  We decided to clean it out.  Son 1 pelted off to get the duster.  A four year old in Bob The Builder pyjamas dusting off the battlements with a green feather tickling-stick was weirdly camp.  Son 2 earnestly rubbed with baby wipes.  Imagine. If I’d had girls there’d be a dolls house with matching pink furniture instead of a castle whose residents include a dragon with three heads and a lion with two. 

Son 1 was shrieking loud enough to peel the wallpaper off so I took both boys swimming. The only place that’ll have us is a Hotel Pool – we need more adults everywhere else – too deep for either child to stand.  Which makes it tricky. We had a good time, but Son 1 craves attention and a partner in his games, and Son 2, butch, bullish, braveheart that he is,  isn’t as confident as Son 1 was at the same age.  He can float along on his armbands but sees no reason why he should, and always sends a little fat hand out for my swimming costume.  He got tired, quickly, and pointed at his Tigger robe, draped over a handrail. “Towel. Towel.”  We span it out another 20 minutes.

After lunch we planted out our sunflower plants into big pots ready for our race. Nightmare. Son 2 took out handfuls of compost out of pots and spreading it over our astroturf. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/06/11/boiling/ The Man got precious about the astroturf. “Weeds will grow in it.” Son 1 tried fending off Son 2, with predictable results.   It rained. Hard. We eventually got six pots, one each, one for Wonder Nanny and a sparee.  Son 2 looked longingly at the compost in the finished pots and went for a fistful.  I fended him off. With predictable results.  We have new pots, we have six foot 17p bamboo canes, we have our only sunny spot. We are off.

First Day

1.  Clearing Off

2.  Cleaning Out

3.  Cheering Up

The First Day Of The Holidays,  Man took the boys to the Yacht Club last night. Give them a run around on the lawn, exhaust them and then we would get a lie in this morning, hooray.  Lie in my a***.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m was up and in the middle of the double bed before 6am. Eyebrowing madly http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/06/10/a-quiet-time-with-my-eyebrow/. I was grumpy. I’d worked late, was whacked out and wanted to sleep. He wanted to get up. An exhausting day loomed ahead, with fatigue bringing out the worst in us both… me fractious, him fizzing.  The Man took him downstairs to put the telly on.

The Parking Fairy gave me a space outside the house last night. So The Man decided to clean out my car.  My car is a source of deep shame.  It is so cruddy… sand, feathers, sticks, mud, smoothies on the upholstery, sundry berries, sweet wrappings, pieces of fruit peel, broken toys from party bags, more sand, more mud, dust, grime, smear, stains and crumbs. And most of the outside is covered in seagull poo, kiln-fired solid by the scorching heatwave.  Son 1 was keen to help, and so soon The Man had Henry the vacuum cleaner, and Son 1 had the upholstery wipes. And very industrious they both were. Then Son 2 aged 21m spotted them. “And me!  And me!”  I put him in the driver’s seat, knowing he couldn’t escape from there with me in the front and Son 1 in the back. The Man cleaned the boot.  I used glass wipes on the windows. Son 2 effortlessly commando-crawled into the back. He got the upholstery wipes and, concentrating very hard, cleaned the windows with them.  He liked the soapy smears.  Son 1 rubbed at smoothie stains.  I  did the windscreen. The wipes came up black as if I smoked.  Son 2 rubbed and rubbed. And then pulled all the wipes out of the packet. Son 1 said he wanted a drink and went back into the house. “Food!” said Son 2. Inside, I realised it was 1230. They have lunch at 12. Son 1 had pulled a chair up to the fridge and had removed a haul of two Petit Filous and two Frubes.

Neither of them would eat their lunch. I was fractious. “You eat at Nursery, and you eat for Wonder Nanny, so why don’t you eat for me?” I stomped. “You give us too much,” said Son 1.  He was right. But I didn’t let on, and went off in a sulk. The Man and I decided to go for a drive to get them to sleep and have some peace. It sort of worked.  We drove to the Beach Cafe and bought takeaway coffees, and then drove up to the Headland to drink them. Son 2’s eyes snapped open, and he stared at the boy in the next car who was eating an ice cream.  The man in the driving seat was leaning back, eyes closed, mouth open.  The woman next to him was reading. Comrades-in-parenting. And also knackered.

Flashing And Frightening

1.  A Storm In The Night

2.  A Storm In The Morning

3.  Sunshine

Mighty thunderstorm in the night. Great big crashing cracks of thunder, sudden bright-as-daylight flashes of lightning. No Von Trapp children skidded into bed with me. I peeked in the bedrooms to check on Son 1 aged 4y 9m and Son 2 aged 21m, tiptoeing carefully, not making a peep with the doors. KER-RACK BOOM. Someone lifted up the roof of the house and let it slam back down again. The children didn’t stir. The storm went on and on. The rain drummed down. i had to close the windows, open against the stultifying heat, to stop us all being washed away.  The storm passed. I went to sleep. Son 1 arrived, at 4am. I took him back to his bed.

Son 1 insisted on taking his Dinosaur Bone to Nursery.  “Ok,” I said. “For a start Miss Lovely won’t let you have it. It’s too big. If she does let you have it, you will hear people all day long telling you it’s not a dinosaur bone, it’s a twig – ” ” – It’s NOT a twig. You can smash it on anything and it doesn’t break. It’s a bone, a leg bone -” “- and when you tell them that they will try and break it and they will succeed. It will be smashed to smithereens. And Mummy will be right and you will be wrong.” “I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

The Dinosaur Bone went in the car boot. “It stays there. We will ask Miss Lovely if you can bring it in.” Son 1 wouldn’t even come in while I checked. “We have an issue. Son 1 found a Dinosaur Bone on the beach. Son 1 has always wanted to find a Dinosaur Bone. I have said it is Too Big For Nursery. I have said everyone here will say it is a stick, because it looks like a very ornate stick which has been worn down by the sea.   I have said it will get broken. ” A small, expectant face had appeared at my elbow, gazing up at Miss Lovely. ”I’d love to see it,” she said.  Back to the car I trogged. Back to the Nursery. “Oh that looks like a bone from a very scarey dinosaur.” “It’s a leg bone,” said Son 1, his eyes shining. “I can see that. Do you think it’s from a Tyrannosaurus Rex?” “Yes!”

I was back from The Office Very Late. Son 1 was just about in bed. “How was the bone?” “All right. No-one said it was a twig.”    Traitors.

Hearing Things

1.  A Sound in the Night

2.  Earache

3.  Music to My Ears

Son 1 aged 4 up in the night with his sore throat and raging temperature.  Called for me at 1230.  I went in and told him off for waking me up “Mummy’s going to be poorly if she doesn’t get some sleep soon.”  He needed Ibuprofen but it was downstairs and I was too tired to get out of his bed.  He woke again at 0130 and down I padded to get it. I gave it to him and we both fell asleep in his single bed, with me getting up at 6.  Son 1 woke when I was in the shower, and was over-tired, fractious, whiney and tearful.  We decided against the New Nursery.  He’s only 4, and Wonder Nanny is now here on Mondays.  Son 1 didn’t care about that.  He just wanted me to stay home.

But I had to leave early  because I had an important Out-of-Office meeting first thing.  I was picking up a colleague and then driving across The Big Town to get there.  New black suit (I took the trousers up last night = a Good Thing)  and three inch heels.  I felt almost pre-baby.  Had a call at The Office from Wonder Nanny. When did Son 1 last have Calpol because he was complaining that his ear hurt.  Son 1 came on the phone. “Are you all right?” “No. I’m not. I want you.”  I raced through my work and sorted out a pile to do at home.  I got back mid-afternoon.  Both boys were asleep.  Son 2 aged 13m woke, came downstairs with Wonder Nanny, sat in my arms and clapped, smiling.  Son 1 woke while I was trying to do some work and make some phone calls, pushed away my pile of papers and sat on my lap crying.  

The Man is planning Business Trips this week and next – during my week off.  I am trying to be positive and reasonable.   Son 1 says his ear hurts when he yawns.  The Man’s going to have to take him to the doctor tomorrow.    I went for a run. Full moon, but I ran down to the bridge over the river;  street-lit all the way so very little chance to enjoy the moonlight.  I resurrected the radio I used to run with BC.  New batteries, and I popped it into the money belt I always wore to carry it.  Ah.  The waist strap needed letting out two inches.  Hmph.  However. It was great to have music and company.  And I’ve been out twice in three days.

A New Star

1.   Battle

2.  Festival

3.  Party

There is another Festival in the Town.  The Plan was to celebrate stopping breastfeeding with champagne in The Square.   We dawdled and dilly-dallied over getting up.  Son 2 aged 13m was yawning, eye-rubbing, high-pitched shrieking and falling over every three minutes.  I got the hint and put him back to bed. Son 1 aged 4 had Mummy Time.  Playing on CBeebies on the computer.  And then out came The Pirates.  I’m ambivalent about Pirates.  My tens of thousands of regular readers will know that Son 1 first became enchanted with Pirates in Feb 2007, aged 2y 5m.  There was a Pirates 3rd birthday. A Peter Pan 4th birthday.  I was kinda hoping that maybe somehow Power Rangers or Spider Man or dinosaurs would move in at 4+. But then I wasn’t. Because everything we have is Pirates.  And, bored out of my tree as I am, I will miss them.  Like the breastfeeding.  So.  The Pirates were going to raid the new treasure chest.  But… exciting new twist… a Power Ranger Megatroyd was defending it.

We trogged down to the Festival.  It was packed, and we were hugely popular, with our Big Pram and rickety MacLaren.  We’d told Son 1 he could paint shells, like he did last year, and the year before.  He wanted his shells, I wanted my champagne, The Man wanted seafood.  Son 1 and I fought our way to shell-painting, and he was happy.  The Man got seafood, stuck a bottle of English sparkling white in the back of the Big Pram and shoe-horned it in the Marquee.  Son 1 painted earnestly, Son 2 ate the glitter pens and painted his own shell.  My plastic glass of bubbles stood on the table in front of the pre-schoolers. We met friends. The children played.  They all went on the bouncy castle, and Son 2 loved it, trying to dive-bomb it afterwards when I was taking him for a nappy change.  I shopped and bought cut-price Usbourne  books and  a birthday present for Granny.     

Son 2 spotted there was something missing.  There was an Office retirement party which I had to go to.  It was really lovely.  One colleague was retiring, one colleague – someone I’ve worked with for 17 years – was leaving to become a childminder.  Everyone came, so there was much reminiscing, pouring over old photos and laughing.  I took Son 2’s great babyring for the childminding colleague.  One of those we-could-get-thirty-quid-on-ebay-or-the-local-paper-oh-you-have-it-I-hope-it’s-useful decisions. It was a great do, and I got back way after midnight.  We bought the retiring colleague a star.

Thank God For The Harvest

1.  Stringing Together

2.  Strung Up

3.  Strings Attached

The Man wanted to go to a beach to fly the kite which Brother and family gave Son 1 aged 4 for his birthday.  I wanted to go back to The Square and drink more English sparkling white to celebrate stopping feeding Son 2 aged 13m.  Excited at the idea that The Man had started sentences with “Let’s…” and “Shall we…?” I thought we’d better do his thing.  First we all went down to the Tesco Metro to do some shopping for the coming week, when he has another Business Trip.   We brought it all back to the house, and then off we went with The Big Pram and The Buggy, to the beach.  At the bottom of the hill, the Man remembered he hadn’t given Son 1 his penicillin.  They waited; I trotted back to the house.

Son 1 loved the kites, Son 2 loved the beach.  The first kite wasn’t a success.  The Man whined at me for not being a kite-flying expert.  Son 2 was crawling among the shingle and seaweed, where dog poo and broken glass lurked.  Various dogs the size of ponies were charging up and down the beach, their owners hundreds of yards away.  The Man was on his own with the kite, and terribly sorry I was too.  The old kite was better.  Son 1 just laughed hysterically at tangled strings, crash-landings, great gusts of wind, runaway aircraft and any attempt The Man made to tell him what to do.  It was priceless.  Son 2 watched it all with the superior yet faintly worried expression of a headmaster in the playground at lunchtime.

We pushed  them home via The Festival.  Packed again.  Son 1 saw a 4+ girl friend from the Old Nursery.  He was very excited.  “Hello Son 1,” she said, in a resigned voice.  Then, hearing grizzling from The Pram, she perked up: “Is that Son 2?”  I turned the pram round and he reached out to her. At home they watched a DVD and played drums and keyboards. I made bangers and mash and cheese and onion sauce and broccoli.  Son 2 wolfed it.  Son 1 ate it, every mouthful cajoled down by me.  He sang a song about putting plums in boxes.  And then the killer chorus: “Thank You God for the Harvest.”  The New Nursery again.  I had walked four miles. I’d made tea from scratch.  I was about to, again, deny Son 2 a breast feed. I left Darwin for next time.

Outside

1.  Outdoor Shoes

2.  Running in the Rain

3.  Day 3

The Man has gone off on another Business Trip.   It made for an odd day, he was buzzing up and down, looking for this, re-charging that, downloading the other.  We decided not to go out so we could say goodbye. So Son 1 aged 4 got very cross because I was washing/cooking/cleaning instead of giving him Mummy time. And Son 2 aged 13m burst into tears everytime he thought he was getting Wonder Nanny instead of me.  Son 2 is in hand-me-down shoes.  Son 1’s first pair, they’re too big for him.  But he knows they mean outside.  He pulled them out from under the drawers and held them up to me, beseeching: “Uh… Uh…”  “Let’s put these on and go outside PLEEEESE” in babyspeak.  He can quack like a duck now. Roar like a lion.  Snap like a crocodile.  And he’s making efforts at mastering moo-ing and barking.   We’re very proud.  He says  “Huwow” many, many times a day, at anyone he thinks might twinkle back at him.  And he does a passable ”tractor” subsitute.  One of those where the vowels aren’t right, the consonents aren’t right, but you can hear he’s confident he’s got it.  Otherwise it’s pointing, tantrums and “uh.” 

After lunch Wonder Nanny put Son 2 to bed (screaming.  Wanted Mummy to do it.)  Son 1 and I looked for Wally – he’s memorised every page in the books and just flips across with a double-jointed finger going “there’s Wally, there’s Wenda, there’s Odlaw.”  He fell asleep.  I thought about dawdling round the shops in The Town, but then knew I had to go running.  I got wet, but I think I escaped the worst of a dismal day.

I put Son 2 to bed and he cried and cried and  arched his back, his old breast-feeding sign.  Oh dear.  Three days now without, so it’s clear that neither of us is going back.  I’m feeling much better about it now, with relief crowding all my other stuff.  Soon I will be able to get rid of the feeding bras and the breast pads.  I’ve already found a home for the feeding pillow.

Feel The Fear

1.  A Quiet Coffee

2.  Bird Park Revisited

3.  Bedtime

Downstairs with Son 2 aged 13m at 0545 to get him some milk.  A starfish hand stretched out to the fruit bowl.  Two old apples and an ancient lemon.  I made a big pot of coffee, bacterio yoghurtie thing for Son 2 aged 4 (no pineapple juice,) and snacks for them both.  Upstairs we all read a big photo baby book – Son 2 likes sitting looking at pictures while we tell him what they are.  And occasionally joins in by poking a soft baby finger at a picture with an “uh,” making Son 1 and me cry out “peas!” excitedly.  Son 1 went to the loo, Son 2 followed him.  I could hear Son 1 laughing madly, but no sound from Son 2.  I settled back on a big pillow, savouring my coffee.  They were in the bathroom, so if they were messy it would be easy to clear up.  There was plenty of entertainment for Son 2.  They were safe.  And Son 2 wasn’t squealing like a stuck pig, so Son 1 was clearly keeping his hands to himself.  He came in again, giggling. “Come and see.  We’re up to mischief.” An empty loo roll holder.  Son 2 had unravelled it, Son 1 had stuffed many, many yards of loo paper into a yellow wicker basket.

Today’s trip was the Bird Park.  I took bags of change from Son 1’s money boxes and paid for everything in coppers and 5ps.   Both boys loved it.  Son 2 couldn’t get enough of the ball pool. “If you’re happy and you know it, click your balls,” we sang, smiling happily and clicking, one in each hand.  He climbed, he went down the slide, he laughed.  Son 1 still likes the toddler area best.  There are very high, very steep slides at the Bird Park for older children and younger (than me) parents.  Son 1 and I stood at the top of one, peering down.  A boy and his father jumped off.  “You do it, Mummy” said Son 1.  “You do it,” I replied. ” I can’t. I’m too scared.”  I was scared.  But I did it anyway.  Because you should push through your fears to see what’s on the other side.   I climbed up over and down I dropped, crashing into the ball pool at the bottom, buried two layers.  I pushed my way out.  “Do It Again!” came the instruction from the top.   I Did It Again.

I couldn’t get Son 2 to sleep tonight.  I went up with the boys at 1820. I got down at 2015.  And he woke again within 20 minutes. We have now done four days without a breastfeed.

A Round of Applause

1.  Clapped Out

2.  A Big Clap

3.  Clapping Song

Fireworks, flags and fanfares, Son 2 aged 13m slept in his cot all night.  Possibly unconscious with exhaustion after an evening from hell.  I had to leave him in his cot to cry himself hoarse while I put Son 1 aged 4y 1m to bed. Then I finally got him to sleep on the double bed.  He woke up again, by the time I got up there to pick him up he was frantic.  No voice left, heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst through his little chest, face soaked with tears.  I gave him the rest of his (bottled) milk, and again, I got him to sleep on the bed.  And when I went up I just popped him in his cot. Where he stayed.

He can stand now, for longer and longer.  And looks round for attention when he does it and claps his hands. “Applause please, everyone. I did it again.”  He’s gorgeous.  We went to The Beach in the morning – had to keep ducking for cover in rain showers – and then, for various reasons, went over to our friends’ house afterwards.  Son 1 and Friend Aged 3y 11m played, Son 2 stood by the toy drumkit and rumba-d.  He pointed at the dog a lot.  And snap-snapped with the toy crocodile we got him from the Bird Park.

We’d just got back when Nanna came round.  Son 2 was in the Big Pram asleep.  Son 1’s school photos have arrived – they’re definitely worth giving his whole nursery class his tummy bug.   Son 1 watched CBeebies; Son 2 woke and grizzled and griped until I worked out he was hungry, and sat him in his highchair with breadsticks and hummous.  Then they all ate an M and S fish pie I’d efficiently remembered to take out of the freezer before we left in the morning.  I checked the bag to see how long to heat it: “For best results, cook from frozen.”  At bedtime Son 1 and Son 2 played together in the bath, charming and giggly.  Son 1 and I sang “If you’re happy and you know shout ‘we are’” and Son 2 clapped his hands and laughed in a definite “I know that one!”  Son 1 and Nanna went to his room for stories while I put Son 2 to bed. I gave him some milk, cuddled him and sang him a lullaby, and then put him down on the floor while I blacked out the window with a blanket.  As I finished there was a click.  He’d power-crawled across the bedroom  and was out the door looking for Son 1 and Nanna.  Again, a nightmare getting him off to sleep.  Day 5 without feeding him.

First Steps

1.  Night 2

2.  School homework

3.  Moment captured

4.  Swimming

Son 2 aged 13m stayed in the cot overnight again, Wa-hay.  He struggled going to sleep, I moved him into it when I went to bed… he woke at 0430.  I woke, looked at the clock, decided he’d done well and I’d go down to him, and then he was crying again and it was 0630. 

The tiny school 3 miles away that I like for Son 1 has just had an Outstanding Ofsted.   Disaster.  I found it when it was only Good, hands off.  So I went for a coffee with a friend’s friend, an expert in schools admissions.  Take The Man to see it, make sure the Head knows it’s your first choice and then just keep in touch so you find out before close of submissions if it’s oversubscribed and you’d be wasting your time trying.  She sold me on the one her children go to as our second choice, and we could get Son 1 in there. We’re lucky, because we can choose any school in The Town and Son 1’s is a low birthrate year.  He can go anywhere.  If I just can get that little village school out of my system…

Son 2 is getting good at standing.  He’s got a bit of control, and can balance and look at something he’s doing at the same time.  And then, after lunch… he stood, he looked, and he wobbled forward.  And his little feet stumbled forward, left right left right, until he sat down on his big fat nappy bottom.  The crowd (me, Wonder Nanny, Son 1) went wild and clapped and cheered.  “Well done Son 2!” “Do it again, do it again!”  Son 2 looked as if he’d like to oblige, but hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d done to get such a reaction.  And now I know why I blog diligently.  I’ve no idea of the exact moment Son 1 took his first steps – he was probably at nursery.

A Four Good Things day.  We took the boys swimming, and it was lovely.  Son 1 was mad with excitement, playing pirates the whole time, forcing himself between me and Son 2 whenever he thought we were enjoying ourselves without  him.  Son 2 loves the water.  We came back and they were both exhausted.  Tea was early, getting them to bed was early… Son 2 passed out within minutes and hasn’t stirred this evening.  I was downstairs at 1815… and Wonder Nanny had done all the clearing up.  Wa-hay.

When Rock Was Young

1.  Family Lunch

2.  The Band

3.   The Pub

Granny and Granddad are arriving tomorrow, so we all went into The Town to get some things we needed.  Wrapping paper, cards, and something for a meal.  We bought Dover Sole from the fishmongers.  Granny can cook.  I had lunch for Son 2 aged 13m, so we stopped off in a cafe to give it to him.  Got Son 1 aged 4y 1m some chips… ordered ourselves a snack… and had a really nice impromptu family lunch.  Son 2 wouldn’t eat his jarred mush as soon as he clapped eyes on the chips.  He’s using a spoon now.  Not always the right way up, not always the right end in the food, and mostly using long swinging arcs that splat the food on the table, on his clothes or on his forehead.  But he’s using a spoon now.

At home Son 1 played his drum kit, Son 2 played keyboards, The Man played Argos toy electric guitar and I was the singer.  Son 2 lurched for the microphone on the toy keyboard  “Ahhhhhh” he sang, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhh.”  Son 1 banged his drumsticks together “One Two Three, hit it.”  We devised a running order for Granny and Granddad’s visit.  “When Rock Was Young,” “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” “Give a Dog a Bone.” 

I went out with the Wednesday mums.  A very nice evening, all three of us on red wine. A mistake, but I’m still doing daft things because at last I’m not breastfeeding or pregnant.  We had a boat crew arrive – the skipper sat down with us, his crew were between our table and the bar.  One Mother chatted to him, I chatted to the stewardess.  Leaving for the Caribbean on Monday.  They wandered off.  We carried on drinking and talking and talking and drinking.  Then a man came over and said could he buy us ladies a drink.  Oh go on then, a small red wine, we said.  Large glasses arrived.  But not the chap who bought them.  We had to leave them because we couldn’t drink them fast enough before the pub shut.  Just one of those weird evenings – the three of us were absolutely self-contained and weren’t interacting with the rest of the pub in any way.  We still got it girls.   

Running Before You Can Walk

1.  Stirrings

2.  Back to School

3.  Sprint Finish

It was hell getting Son 2 aged 13m down in the cot last night – took more than half an hour – but he stayed in till nearly 6am, which I am counting as a second night sleeping through.  If he makes it tonight I will start seeing if I can put him down in the cot, rather than leaving him lying on a double bed with pillows either side.  He was hungry and he was thirsty.  A clear, definite “Na na” Which he ate in less than five minutes once we were downstairs.  He was brilliant for his books this morning, sitting still for The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Well most of it.  As soon as the pages you can stick your fingers in had gone, he was off.  His favourite is still the animals book.  He can now fling his arm up for the elephant, make fish mouth noises and roar like a lion.  There is a little confusion between the noises for a duck’s quack quack and a crocodile’s snap-snap but it’s easily done.  He is also definitely yeh yeh ing, and nnnnnn ing. And Ma Ma has returned, but with considerably more “SORT ME OUT NOW” welly.

We were a bit worried about Son 1 aged 4 y 1m going back to Nursery, because with his two-week half term and his ear infection it’s been three weeks.  He was ok.  He made me park way up the entrance road, and we arrived just as the children were sitting down for the register.  He plonked himself down on the floor and gazed up at the teacher as if I wasn’t there.  Wonder Nanny picked him up and said the teacher had said he’d been very tired in the afternoon.  Again, it’s the playground.  Too noisy.   

Other good things: my computer came back from the mender’s, which will make The Office a bit easier, because I can work in the evenings again, hooray hooray.  We have a number for a chiropodist for The Man’s sore feet.   Wonder Nanny has sent off the registration form for Ofsted.  We’ve accepted a party invitation for Son 1.  “That’s good news, isn’t it Mummy?”  He’s getting the hang of this.  And Son 2 stole the show.  As he was exhausted, I held him under his armpits to let him practise walking – one of his favourite things, and I thought if he did his usual hold-on-to-my-fingers-walk he’d stumble and get fed up.  When he felt the extra support he just sprinted.  Up and down the kitchen like Forest Gump, with me having to do a running, bent-over waddle to keep up with him.  He chortled and squealed and laughed and laughed.  So did Son 1.  I knew we were in for it when he finally walks… it never occurred to me that it will in fact be much worse when he can RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

1.  Light Sleep

2.  Light Lunch

3.  Light Work

Son 2 aged 13m’s second time laid straight down in the cot instead of snuggling himself to sleep next to me on the double bed.   I worked late last night “Don’t wake Son 2 when you come up,” said The Man.  He went up.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.  Did I a) quietly go up to Son 2’s room and spend 30 minutes soothing him, and then come back and return to my work.  Or b) dart up to our room leaving Son 2 wailing, and dance round pointing at The Man singing “Who Let The Dogs Out?  So The Man did the 6am duty today.  And I had a lie in till gone 7.

We went to The Beach to see some friends, who were Swimming In The Sea. I said I’d do it next week.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m ran round a bit with the children, I spread out a rug on the sand for Son 2 who  crawled off it at speed and never went back.  They were both knackered, and passed out in the car as we drove off.  So we went to a seaside restaurant where we could park the car, sit outside and see the boys asleep in their seats.  We had coffee.  They stayed asleep.  I read the Independent.  The Man read the local paper. The temperature dropped.  The wind got up.  We’d missed breakfast, so we ordered Tapas.  It took forever to come.   Son 2 woke up and ate some of The Man’s salmon and chips. 

When we got back home Son 1 had missed lunch and was still tired.  Son 2 hadn’t eaten enough and refused to have an afternoon sleep.  So they were Very Hard Work Indeed.  I have worked out since she started doing 4 days a week that the difference between me and Wonder Nanny is that if Going Out will disrupt meals or sleeps she just doesn’t do it.  Whereas off we always jolly well go.  ”Why do they behave so perfectly for her, and melt down for me?” I ask.  We stuffed sausages and mash in them at half past four and put them to bed early.   Son 2 straight into the cot.  I wanted to blog, so  The Man’s gone up ahead of me.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Very Tired

1.   Craving Sleep

2.   Fighting Sleep

3.   Losing Sleep

Lordie we are all tired.  Son 2 aged 14m barely made it past breakfast before he was eye-rubbing, yawning and shrieking.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m was producing weapons-grade sibling rivalry.  I held Son 2’s hands across the highchair table; and Son 2 laughed.  Son 1 stopped what he was doing and came and climbed on my knee, blocking out the route to the highchair table.  I put Son 2 down for his sleep, and Son 1 and I played Scooby Doo and made Pirate finger puppets.

i am doing a Running Gag. Whenever anyone asks if The Man is back, I say yes, but he’s Very Tired.  Our neighbour walked down to The Town with us, asking The Man when he’d got back.  “Yesterday,” he said.  “He’s Very Tired,” I said.  “Don’t you get tired then, Serenedays?” she said, Getting It beautifully.  We wandered along in the rain, Son 2 in the Big Pram, Son 1 in the buggy.  “We’ll just have to push them and they’ll fall asleep and then we can have a coffee,” I said.  Son 1 fell asleep eventually.  Son 2 just went on and on and on.  It was an amazing feat of endurance.  We’d stuffed him into an anorak, in a cosi toe, with his new (hot) hat on.  His hat fell down over his eyes so he could only see out at the bottom.  And still he stayed awake. 

Back home he was so tired he needed his tea at once, but melted down before he’d had very much.  We think there is a teeth thing going on again.  Son 1 says his teeth hurt at the bottom front.  Hells bleeding bells.  I’ve probably dissolved them in fruit juice.  Bathtime was agony, getting them to bed was awful – Son 2 woke and woke and woke… but when I finally got him to sleep I rang a Friend  for a chat and felt better. And The Man is having a go at all my outstanding filing.  Good to think it’s getting done. I’m a bit worried it might be like Son 2’s tidying up though… bits of cheese spread sandwiches left in the vegetable rack, crayons in the washing machine, jigsaw pieces in the bin.

The Look

1.  Dropping Off

2.  Sounding Out

3.  Mopping Up

I dropped Son 1 aged 4y 1m off at Nursery, and walked across the tarmac towards my car.  A woman driving off in a Mini wound down her window and smiled at me.  “Good Morning,” I said, thinking did-I-meet-you-at-that-party-I-took-Son-to.  “I just wanted to say how much I like your hair, I always think that” she said.  “What a kind thing to say on a Monday morning,” I said.  “Yours (shining long, rich brown, thick worn loose half way down her back) is very nice, too.”  “No it’s not, it’s just yours is great, I just wish I had the confidence, it’s not just the hair it’s the make up, it’s the whole look, you always stand out.”  “But your hair is beautiful,” I said. “I’ve always wanted long hair, but it would break because it’s bleached.”  “Oh I’m just the same as all the others here, but you really stand out.”  “I’m not sure Son 1 will thank me for that,” I said. 

At lunchtime I met The Man and we went to look at a school in The Town for Son 1.  I have to admit that the drive to the Big Town to go to Nursery is just too much for him.  i thought it would be an extra half hour in the car each day, but by the time I’ve crawled up the main road, parked and dropped him off/picked him up… it’s getting on for an hour and half in the car for him every time he goes.  The school was sweet, the head was fantastic, it did well at Ofsted.  I think Son 1 could be happy there. 

I was very late collecting Son 1 and we were very late back, after a dismally drawn-out drive in the rain and dark.  Son 2 aged 14m was already upstairs with The Man.  Standing in the bath and crying his eyes out.  With a look of pain and misery. Upset because Son 1 and I were missing.   He’s got a light speckled rash on his chest and neck, and several great big spots breaking out on his arms.  Measles I suppose.  He’s definitely out of sorts, and just wants his Mum.  Well he got me.  For about 20 minutes.

Two And Two Makes Green Hair

1.  Early

2.  The History Of Colour

3.  Green Hair

I have been awake since 0415.  Well, I wanted more hours in the day.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m came upstairs in the dead of night.  I plonked him in the middle.  And he did his usual T-bone thing,  working himself round till he was lying longways between The Man and me.   I gave up trying to get back to sleep at 0515 and came downstairs to sort out some stuff for The Office.  WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.  The Man got into bed with Son 2 aged 14m and tried to snug him back to sleep.  I drank coffee and did some work, which has given me an early finish tonight, hooray.

A Good Day at The Office.  We got a lot done.  At the end of the day I walked to the car park with two colleagues.  Discussing art.  One has been reading a book on The History Of Colour.  Never occurred to me that colour has a history.  I’d assumed In The Beginning There Was Red… and here we are now.  The other was talking about Turquoise, her birthstone and favourite colour.    It was Lofty, but very matter-of-fact.  l just liked the conversation.   

Late home. Again.  Missed Wonder Nanny.  Son 1 and Son 2 were upstairs with The Man, Son 1 scrabbling desparately to get to me, Son 2 bursting into tears, reaching out little starfish hands, and then, when I picked him up, clinging and resting his head on my shoulder.  They’d been to A Garden with Wonder Nanny, her Nanny Friend and the other two children.  Wonder Nanny told The Man that Nanny Friend is in love with Son 2.  The Man, telling me about it: “I was going to say ‘if she’s good-looking she can come and look after him.’  And then I remembered I can’t say things like that.” There’s a spot of luck.  In bed, Son 1 said ”What’s two and two and two and two?”  I said “Eight.” He said: “Two and two makes green hair.”  And went back to looking for Wally.

Another Fine Day

1.  Finger shadows

2.  Finger walking

3.  Finger food 

 I am comforting Son 2 aged 14m to sleep  by putting the fan on for white noise, sticking my head in the cot next to him till he drowses, then straightening up my pulverised back and kneeling down with my hand on his chest till I dare take it away, put the cot side up and tiptoe out.  This is progress from the weeks of getting him to sleep by lying next to him on a double bed, and having him in the bed with an adult overnight.  So.  He woke this morning at 0515.  The Man went down and lay next to him on the bed.  Son 2 cried and cried.  I gave in. I went down, put him in the cot and did my bent-over-the-cot-my-head-next-to-his-soft-fluffy-hair.  He went quiet.  He lay still.  And then he started making shadows on the wall of his cot by waving in front of the light from the extension lead… and making fish noises.  Which progressed to bah bah bah bah bah.  Translation: I’m really bored and I want to get up, but I can keep myself busy if you want your head like that.”  My back again made the decision and I took him downstairs for milk and a snack.  It was five to six.

We went to The Beach.  Both sets of Wednesday Friends, a gloriously mild day out of the north wind.  I’d wrapped both boys up, but they ended up just playing in sweatshirt sleeves.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m and his Friend stuck together, dug together, menaced smaller children together, raided the food together, demanded ice creams together.  Son 2 crawled and finger-walked and watched them, and watched the dogs and ransacked the food bag.  Doesn’t like peanut butter.  Spat it out.  We got coffee and tea, they got smoothies, the weather was great.

Back home Son 2 went to bed (in the cot… second time today, hooray hooray.)  Son 1banned from watching telly for squirting bubble mix in his brother’s eyes this morning, lay on the kitchen floor sticking Charlie and Lola stickers in a book.  I made a roast chicken meal.  A lovely young man came round to mend the tumble drier.  Nanna arrived.  Son 2 woke up and went nuts in the kitchen because of the cooking smell.  First The Man, and then Nanna took him outside.  We managed to sit down, all five of us at the meal table together.  Star for us in the Family Mealtime book.  Both children asleep by 7.30pm and then I went running.  That’s quite a few more than three good things.

 

Mushrooms In The Leaves

1.  Mushrooms

2.  Shopping

3.  Ten Steps

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when I went to bed at 2215 and would not go back to sleep.  I went down to him at 2230, gave him Calpol and water and did my head-in-the-cot thing till 2310.  And then at 2315 he woke again.  I’ll just leave him, I thought, and if he’s still up at 2345 I’ll go and get him.  I couldn’t get up at 2345.  See yesterday’s entry about the 0515 start.  At midnight I went down, switched his fan back on, told him he was being very naughty and had to go to sleep now.  He cried for about 10 minutes more and then went to sleep.  At 0630 I woke up with an oh-mi-god he’s dead start.  He wasn’t.  Son 1 aged 4y and 1m slept in till 0715.  We were at Nursery a bit earlier than usual and parked further up the drive than normal.  There were many, many mushrooms the size of dinner plates in the leaves under the trees.  Son 1 was delighted, and rushed to tell his Nursery teacher. “I like mushrooms now Mummy.”  See http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/04/01/zoom-zoom-zoom  

Marks were having a 20% off everything sale today.  I would like to have gone, but there was so much to do at The Office that I didn’t get near it.  I might boycott them now because I don’t want to pay 20% more than everyone else just because I work.  And the bags thing is annoying me too.  I have a house full of Bags For Life I never use because I am Too Busy to remember them.  So being positive instead of just crabby,  I went to Tesco instead after work and did a Big Shop.  Free carriers.  The Man had kept Son 1 and Son 2 up waiting for me to get back.  I parked the car outside, and Son 2, in The Man’s arms, burst into loud angry tears as soon as he saw me.   

The boys ransacked the shopping.  Caught in friendly fire: 2 Innocent smoothies; 1 yoghurt, 1 gala apple and 1 grape.   Upstairs I tried to get out of my work outfit and into clothes Son 2  could snot on.  He gazed at me, holding on to the red chair.  And then walked, confidently about 10 or 11 steps to get to me before plopping down on his bottom.  I called Son 1 and The Man and they came rushing up. We tried and tried to get him to do it again.  We stood him, we balanced him… and he plopped down and crawled off, laughing.

Happy All Day, Happy All Night

1.  Manoeuvres In The Dark

2.  Jumping

3.  Jamming

i slept badly, got up in the end and did about 2 hours’ Office work in the middle of the night.  Not a good sign.  I got back to sleep and then Son 1 aged 4y 1m appeared and clambered into my side of the bed.  “You’llhavetoclimbover,” I mumbled, unable to move.  He climbed over, The Man got out the other side.  Head on the pillow, next to our heads.  Legs pointing downwards.  That is how you get 3 in a bed, Son 1.  If you continually insist on sleeping with your head against Mummy and your feet against Daddy then one of your parents can’t stay.    

Son 2 aged 14m was up at 0630.  I am craving time with him at the moment, so it’s great it’s the weekend.  A Nursery Day for Son 1, so another brisk take-no-prisoners-zoom-out-the-house morning.  The journey was fine, we got there in plenty of time and parked near the mushrooms, with Son 1 skipping and jumping along the path, making fun noises, skidding on the mud, stopping to peer into tree trunks and trace out the letters on the road signs.  Smiling and laughing “Look at me, I can jump as high as that branch”  Jump.  About two inches.  Full of joy, he’s an absolute delight.

Late to get him again. In the car on the way home he sang: “I’m happy all day, happy all night.  Happy, happy happy happy.  Sometimes I’m sad, sometimes I’m cross, but I’m happy happy happy all day.”  “That’s a lovely song, did you learn it at Nursery?”  “No, I maked it up.  I’m happy all day, happy all night, sometimes there’s a frown on my face but it’s all right. I’m happy at my friends’ house, I’m happy in my house, I’m happy in my Nursery, I’m happy in boats, I’m happy in shops, I’m happy shopping.”  All the way home.  Jamming to himself.  We got back, I parked, he got out of the car and ran down The Terrace singing “I’m happy all day, I’m happy all night.” Went into the house, lay on the floor with his cheek on the lino and carried on singing.

The Magician’s Helper

1.  Getting A Goal Back

2.  The Hall in the Squall

3.  A Lovely Boy

Grim, grisly, gruesome night.  I went to bed late and Son 2 aged 14 months woke howling at around 2am.  Around because I knew he was crying, but thought it was the morning and The Man would get him.  The Man snored by my side.  At 2.30am I snapped awake, looked at the clock and went down.  I think Son 2 is still suffering from the MMR – he’s still got his rash – so I gave him calpol and water, cuddled him, put the fan on and then did head-in-the-cot.  At 0310 I gave up.  Too tired and needed to go to bed.  I called The Man down, he got into bed with Son 2, I went upstairs to sleep.   One to Son 2.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m had a 4th birthday party – a child from Nursery – 20+ miles away on the other side of The Big Town.  We arrived at the Village Hall as a freezing squall blew in.  Two other families there, and no other cars.  In the (empty) hall, we compared notes.  I had the invitation in the car.  Back into the squall.  Son 2’s thin wisps looked Brylcreamed to his head.  We needed the Church Hall. Off we went, us in the front of the convoy.  Into the right Hall.  Say hello to Birthday Girl’s Dad.  There’s the changing bag, there’s the baby food bag.  Where’s the present?  Son 1 went in, Son 2 and I went back to the car.  Back at the Village Hall, there was a Mother, on foot, with small daughter, looking for the party.  I explained.  ”I thought it was strange,” she said.  “There was nobody here, but there was a present on the table with Birthday Girl’s name on it.”  The squall whipped our faces.  They got in my car.  Sand. Feathers. Pine cones. Leaves. Dried out baby wipes. Breadstick crumbs.  Two pairs of posh pointy shoes for The Office.  Hell.

Back at the party I took Son 2 to sit on the side, at the front, thinking he would enjoy the balloons.  There was a magician, with 15 small children sitting on the floor gazing up at him.  In the front row was Son 1, the only child in fancy dress. Captain Hook.  The Magician asked for a helper. Up shot Son 1’s hand.  Up he went.  He laughed, he giggled, he yes-ed, he no-ed, he laughed again, spellbound.  Back he went.  I watch him in profile for the rest of the act.  Face tilted up, eyes dancing, smiling, laughing, calling out.   “A lovely boy…” clad in a red tailcoat with lace at the sleeves, “but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth.”  That first teeth smile in profile, backlit from the windows high above him, was heaven.

Tags: balloons, broken nights, calpol, Captain Hook, co-sleeping, fan, head-in-the-cot, lost present, magician, messy car, MMR, party, peter pan, rash, sleep problems, squall

Rockets And Stars

1. After The Shot

2. Spot A Lot

3. Got Shot

Son 2 aged 14m up at 0515.  Maybe-he’ll-roll-over-and-go-back-to-sleep-for-the-first-time-ever, I drowsed.  Louder.  More insistent.  I sent The Man downstairs.  Son 2 cannot be rewarded with Mummy for Night-time Waking.  The Man went into  Son 2’s room, and the roof blasted off into orbit. Agitated, furious, inconsolable and atom-crackingly loud.  I went downstairs. The Man gave me Son 2.  He was instantly silent.   I put him in the bed with me and he went back to sleep.   I’m sure it’s the MMR.  He’s so little and I bet the dose is enough to immunise all those whopping 100-centile babies.  All I really want to do is snuggle up in bed with him.  But I know I’ll regret it because I won’t get enough sleep.  When we get on top of our money again I want a massive bed big enough for 4.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m was up late and whingeing and whining about going to Nursery. “I don’t want you to go to work,” he sobbed at the top of his voice.  They swap tips like that at playtime at Nursery.  “And then, if you really want to make them feel crap, make a couple of tears roll out of the corners of your eyes while you yell it in your shakiest voice.”  In the car he cheerfully spotted lorries, police cars, post vans and dogs, while singing his song about how happy he is. 

Late picking him up, quelle surprise.  He chattered all the way home.  We spotted stars, and sang Twinkle Twinkle.  The street light outside our house has been out of action for a couple of days now.  This is a Good Thing.  We can see stars in the sky above the river outside.  Son 2’s bedroom is darker, which I think may be helping him stay settled in the evenings again.  The dawns are better, blue-grey light fading up against deep dark clouds.  And the full moon was more spectacular too.  We’ve been here eight years and the street light has obliterated all that… so I’m rather hoping council cost-cutting will keep it switched off.

Five Miles

1.  I Want My Mummy

2.  The Road Race

3.  Finish

Son 2 aged 14m up in the night again.  I got him settled with a drink of water, calpol and a cuddle.  He went back in his cot and didn’t need an adult.  And the answer was… spend even longer bent over with my head next to his in the cot.  The Man was out at a Stag Do last night, so when Son 2 howled just after 6 neither of us was in a hurry to leave the Big Cosy Bed.  The Man, bless him, went down first, but Son 2, bless him, was Accepting No Substitutes. In A Voice Which Was Very Loud Indeed.  So down I padded, bleary-eyed and bad-tempered.  The Noise stopped as soon as he was perched in my arms. He is so darn cute.

There was a Road Race in The Town. 5 miles.  I can’t remember when I last ran 5 miles.  I must have been about 4 or 5 months pregnant with Son 1, who’s now aged 4y and 2m.  So.  I went to the registration hotel, picked my way through the great gangs of club runners in their varying team colours and got a number.  I pinned it on.  I sat in my car while I waited for the start, and then at 1015 noticed everyone had disappeared from the car park, even the police and ambulance people. In a state of panic that they’d all trooped off to the start without me, I pelted through a bitterly cold squall to the hotel.  Everyone was inside. The reason everyone disappeared from the car park was… er… the bitterly cold squall.  Start time was 11am.

I ran it.  Walked up a couple of the more deathly hills, but I did it.  The rain stayed off for the entire course, and I didn’t come last.  There were probably about 10 people behind me.  And about 300 in front, but who cares. I wasn’t really fit enough to do it.  But who cares.  The Man was supposed to bring the boys to see the finish, and watch their athletic sporty mother’s triumph.  Missed it.  He took them round to a friend’s house.  They were leaving just as I rang him to say Where Are Ya?    After I finished, a leaflet was pressed into my hand advertising a 10k on the Sunday before Christmas.

Marathons

1. Three Good Things Before Breakfast

2. Hand Holding

3. Best Foot Forward

Son 1aged 4y 2m doesn’t got to Nursery on Tuesdays so we have a slightly slower start. A Good Thing already. Son 2 aged 14m stayed asleep till 0640. Another Good Thing. Son 2 went downstairs with The Man without hollering for me. Three Good Things before 7am. A cheer for each, Hooray Hooray Hooray. I had to go into The Office earlier than usual so it felt like I didn’t see the boys very long. Pang Pang Pang.

A Hard Day At The Office – just long, no breaks and a bit of an endurance event. A few new people to meet, which was interesting. Note-taking for seven hours + and unsurprisingly I’ve wrecked my hand and arm. But looking on the bright side it means this will be short tonight.

And I got out for a run. Inspired by Sunday and the scarey fit club runners. I went on the website. I came in the lower three-hundredths in the Road Race. Ten and a half minute miles. I used to run whole marathons faster.

Get Me Out Of Here

1.  Get Me Out Of Bed

2.  Get Me Out Of This Museum

3.  Get Me Out Of The Garden And The Bath

Son 2 aged 14m slept till 0630.   Wah Wah Wah.  I went down and snugged in to bed with him.  He wanted to get up.  He span round and round in his sleeping bag till he was trussed up like a fly in a web Wah Wah Wah.  I took his sleeping bag off and That Was It.  I gave up at the point where I was lying down and holding on to his legs as he locked himself horizontally, laughing, hands death-gripping the cot rails to stop me pulling him back into the bed.  We Were Getting Up.  He is iron-willed, he is physical, he is strong and he is clever.  There’s always boarding school.

We went to The Museum with our Wednesday Friends.  Son 2 had a nap, so we got there late.  One Mum was on her way out for the school pick up.  Son 1 and his Friend crayoned. Son 2 tipped the crayons out, finger-walked, and headed for the glazed walls Trying To Get Out.  We had the Captain Hook costume under The Big Pram.  The Friend put it on, suggesting Son 1 be Peter Pan.  Son 1 was not going to be Peter Pan, although he did tell Son 2 he could be Mr Smee.  I did lots of Turn Taking/How Kind/Good Sharing stuff.   Son 1 wanted his outfit back.

We went to a pizza place for lunch, The Man joined us briefly and Son 1 ate well.  We got back and the children played in the front garden.  I finger-walked with Son 2, who held onto the railings, threw the gravel into the pavement, pointed at the dogs and Awowed at the passers by.  Son 1 played on the pavement outside, Son 2 tried to work out the gate latch.  A Mum we know went past with a double buggy, toddler asleep, baby awake.  We chatted.  Son 2 fell over and cut his lip, his mouth bleeding.  Nanna came and I did sausage, mash and peas for tea. Son 2 melted down with tiredness. We put him in the bath and he wouldn’t sit down, howling, reaching, lifting up his legs and looking for a foothold. I have been so desperate to be with my baby, and he has spent my entire day off trying to leave home.

Driving Lessons

1.  Driving Away

2.  Driving Instructor

3.  Driven

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when The Man went to bed last night and then could not be settled.  The rolling around in the cot, the propping himself up, the lying down, the sighing, the wah-ing… and underpinning it all the great talent he has for lying as still as possible for long enough to convince me that he’s gone to sleep, waiting till I’ve gone and WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.  He woke Son 1 aged 4y 2m up, he kept The Man awake, he broke my back as Yet Again I bent over the cot with my head next to his.  And in the end of course I just got fed up and left him to it.  My scientific, highly-researched I-love-you-and-I-hate-you-being-unhappy-but-I-just-have-to-sleep-now technique for problem sleepers.

And then we all got up too late to get Nursery on time.  So for the second (Nursery) morning in a row, I had to ring up and confess we’d be late.  I missed out reading to Son 2… I barely saw Son 2.  We were so late we saw Wonder Nanny.  In the car, Son 1 interrogated me about stolen cars.  I told him the story of how my car had been stolen from outside An Office, many years ago.  He promised to catch the Burglars and Kill Them.  I gently did the “we don’t talk about killing anyone, Son 1, even burglars, because killing is always wrong,” thing.  “OK. When I catch them I will kill or spray them with space goo.  Which do you want Mummy?”  I chose the space goo.   

There was an Office Business Lunch today, and the two new people I met were both runners.  One was just back from the New York Marathon, so we swapped stories about how fab it is.  The other is a triathlete, and we swapped stories about injuries.  I told the triathlete I felt guilty about spending what little time I have at home with the children on running, like I did on Sunday.  He said neither of his children is sporty, but they are both driven in their own chosen fields and he thinks it’s because they’ve watched him and his wife – a runner – work towards their events.  I was buoyed and inspired.  And then I got home, and I was tired, and it took an age to get the boys to bed, and it’s raining… And I didn’t go out for a run.

Grapes And Wrath

1.   Noise

2.   Toys

3.   Boys

A quiet night from Son 2 aged 14m.  Fireworks this morning though.  The Man brought the boys up their snack – banana and apple pieces.  “I want grapes,” said Son 1 aged 4y 2m. “We haven’t got any grapes,” I said.  Son 1 grizzled a bit.  Son 2 grabbed his tub, peered in, tried throwing it on the floor… grabbed Son 1’s tub, flung the banana and apple on the floor, snatched his own again and succeeded in throwing the contents out… and then hurled his Doidy cup of milk across the chair and mirror.  It was a spectacular piece of tantruming, just because he didn’t have grapes in his tub.  He was dumped back in his cot and left to stew.  Well, boil would be a more accurate description.  Jaysus if he’s like this now what happens when he’s had time to practise?

Getting Son 1 to Nursery on time was a Good Thing.  We left late, the roads were awful, and I decided to try another route which was ok until we ended up in a long stationary queue.  I’m usually pretty patient in traffic, but we’d already been late twice and I really felt like Flinging My Tub. We got there on time though, and I even saw the teacher for the first time in a week.  I like the way Son 1 goes into Nursery now.  Eyes darting around to see what the others are doing, checking out all the different toys out in all the different places… his brain really switches instantly to What-Am-I-Playing-With, rather than I-Want-My-Mum.

Back home after The Office Son 2 reached and shrieked for me as soon as I walked in, and then, once he’d clamped himself to my shoulder started looking round for the next bit of action.  I did some books with him and got him in his bath.  Son 1 went in the shower, Son 2 sat at the plug end playing with the bubbles, the Winnie The Pooh squirters and some plastic jugs.  Son 1 was cleaning toys an polishing the shower screen.  They were both enchantingly engrossed in their own games.  For two minutes, till Son 1 “accidentally” poured soapy water in Son 2’s eyes.  Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.  It was hard settling him again, but we made it.  Six weeks since I stopped feeding him, and I think he’s now happy with milk from a cup and water from a glass.

Winter Sports

1.  Skating

2.  Climbing

3.  Running

We went over to the ice rink for Babies and Toddlers’ Skating.  Brilliant.  £2.50 for Son 1 aged 4y 2m.  There was an inflatable snowman, giant balls, big paddles, a big pile of snow with spades and buckets, pushalong toys, sleds and artificial snow falling every 15 minutes or so.  Son 1 skated, propped by a parent, and eventually got up to shuffling around on his kiddie skates alone.  Son 2 aged 14m was towed around on sleds, and spent a great deal of time pushing a Winnie The Pooh aeroplane from one edge to the other, stopping occasionally to push buttons to make Eeyore or Piglet pop up.  Son 1 was in raptures when the snow fell, dancing, laughing, trying to catch it.  And boy, did he want a snowball fight over at the snow pile.  Too many books.  We will go again.  We had to give up after Soon 1 fell over outside the rink and cracked his face on a metal prop.  He then crawled into the cosi toe on the Big Pram because he was so cold.  And we had to carry Son 2.

We went to a cafe for lunch with some Friends we’d met there.  We gave Son 1a hot chocolate to warm him up.  He ate all the marshmallows off the top and left the drink.  He then did his usual screaming circuits.  We were there with Friends with a nearly-three year old, and Son 1 led him down the rocky road to rack and ruin.    There was also a Garden there, and we took the boys round one part.  Son 2 insisted on finger-walking and climbing up stairs, but could not understand why he wasn’t allowed to root around in the borders, rockeries and flowerbeds.  Tantrums, back-arching.  There was a Christmassy Performance Artist in the garden doing a turn for children, and they all enjoyed it.  Son 1 adopted Nursery pose. Sitting cross-legged at the front, hand shooting into the air to volunteer for everything.  We have a fragment of Santa’s coat from last year, and we wrote labels of Things We Are Going To Do For Other People to hang on a white-sprayed tree.  Son 1 is going to Be Kind To Santa.  Son 2 is going to go Straight To Sleep.

This evening I went running.  It was bitterly, bitterly cold.   In the Good Old Days, I ran occasionally at night, but I never remember being this cold.  I was out of the house and straight into a Northerly and I was freeeeeeeeeeeeeezing.  Better on the way back of course, with the wind behind me.  But still really Not What I Am Used To.

Advent

1.  The Mystery Of Faith

2.  Let There Be Light

3.  The Patience Of Job

Son 1 aged 4y 2m and I went to Church.  First Sunday of Advent.  We sat at the back.  He burnt his fingers on a boiling hot pipe running along the wall just above the floor.  We were taken through a side door to a little kitchenette.  The water was so cold that Son 1 soon decided his fingers didn’t hurt anymore.  He did a puzzle at the back.  Then he reached into his Parkha pocket.  “I’ve got something for you,” he whispered.  And produced a handful of bigger-than-pea gravel.  “Where did you get that?” I asked.  “From the beach,” he whispered.  He coloured in his stones with the Church’s felt tip pens to make jewels for his Treasure Chest.  

Late Afternoon we walked down to The Square for the Parade to switch on the Town’s Christmas Lights.  Son 2 aged 14m was trussed up in his cosi toe, happy in his woolly hat.  Son 1 had four layers on including a fleece and his Parkha.  He was too tired to walk down and rode on The Man’s shoulders.  He wanted candy floss, which his Favourite Thing in All The World, even though he’s never tasted it.  In The Square it was perishing.  Son 1 sulked over candy floss, Santa helium balloons, although a friend supplied some raisins in yoghurt which quietened him.  The Parade started.  We were behind the Samba band and the Mayors’ parties, but in front of Santa.  There were sweets. Lots of them.  Lollies and haribous and chocolates, handed out from great carriers full.  Carols were sung, the Lights went on.  I listed Son 1’s sugar intake as I cleaned his teeth: ice cream, yoghurt raisins, haribous, lollipop, more jelly sweets, candy floss, more haribous and raisins.  He bounced off the walls like a squash ball.

Son 2 aged 14m woke 4 times in 90 minutes after we put him to bed.  He’s been sick twice, crying himself into gagging because I haven’t rushed up.  I’ve just cracked and lay down on the double bed with him to get him back to sleep… and that’s taken well over half an hour.  He has started drooling again, so it could be teeth.  It could be separation anxiety - I don’t feel as if I saw a lot of him today… he could be coming down with something…  it could just be too much stimulus from the Lights switch on.  I really thought we were getting somewhere with his sleeping, but that was awful.  And I’ve still got to get him in his cot when we go to bed.  However.  Today I gathered up my 5 remaining feeding bras and threw them out.  Progress Has Been Made.

Faster Legs

1.  Walking pace

2.  Normal Walking

3.  Nearly Walking

Getting to Nursery On Time was a Good Thing.  I got out of the door at exactly the right time to get in the car and go, and get to Nursery avoiding the glacially-paced Monday traffic.  “Where’s the car?” I called to The Man, who’d parked it on Saturday.  “Outside XXX and YYYs,” he said.  XXX and YYY are friends who live 10 minutes’ walk away.  Oh dear.  I wasn’t a very good Example For The Children.  However.  The conclusion is that the longer, rural route to the Big Town is faster than the normal way, despite the mile-long crawl near the Industrial Estate.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m got there in time for the Hellos.

I had to pick him up again at 1.30pm because he had an appointment with a paediatric physio.  I think his right foot flays out when he runs.  She asked me lots of questions, watched him sit, walk and run, and then moved his legs up and down while he was lying on a couch.   She says both feet flay out, but when he’s walking both feet are turned in.  His hip joints in the sockets turn in, so his thighs turn in when he’s tired, so his lower legs flay out.   Stop him sitting in a “W” – which he’s done since he was a baby; he need to be cross-legged.  And get him to stand on one leg, and hop, when he can (he can’t yet.)   In the range of normal, but he’s never going to be an athlete.  Dang, and there’s us with athletes on both sides of the family.  Was it because he was breech? I asked.  She didn’t think so, it’s hereditary.  Somewhere on either side there is another “W” sitter.  It’s just how he is.

Back home and Son 2 aged 14m is almost ready to lift off.  He can comfortably walk eight or ten paces… and managed to slalom through a doorway this evening to get to me when I went upstairs.  He can walk many steps, several times in a row before he pretends to lose interest, plops down on his bottom and goes crawling off to change the subject.  He gives himself a clap before he starts, and then steps out confidently until he lets himself fall into the arms of whoever’s in goal.  And when he totters over to Son 1’s outstretched arms and plops on top of him at the end Mummy’s heart turns to mush.

Milestones

1.  Walking

2.  Writing

3.  Silence Of The Seahorse

Son 2 aged 14m has started choosing to totter a few steps to get where he wants to go.  Rather than crawling.  About one in three times.  He did it today without thinking – as opposed to standing in TA-DA mode, with a huge expectant grin on his face, launching himself forward into doting outstretched arms and making sure everyone’s clapping.  And he did it without us egging him – we kept catching him doing it.  He can walk, often, for 10+ paces  at a time; he can change direction.  His balance is good.  He’s standing confidently for longer periods.  I think today is the first day I can say he is starting to walk.  And from everything we already know about Son 2, we Need Reins.  Now.

I was off today, so Wonder Nanny and I took the boys to the Aquarium.  Son 2 loves fish  -  he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth every time he sees one in a picture, and he was spellbound.  There are some tanks at a good baby height and he stood up against them and stared and stared and pointed and uh-ed and stared.    Son 1 aged 4y 2m was delighted and excited, and loved the sharks and the turtles and the seahorses and spotting Nemo characters.  He drew a sea monster for a display of children’s drawings.  He coloured in a shark in the cafe.   And then, in yellow pencil on white paper (so I now can’t see it) he did a half-decent effort at writing his name.  The letter shapes were there… in order.  Not in scale with each other, not entirely recognisably Roman, and nose-diving down the page.  But it was there.

It was a Good Thing seeing Son 2 so relaxed and comfortable with Wonder Nanny.  In the car we discussed Son 2’s sleeping.  For his  daytime nap, she has a routing to send him to sleep, but if he starts “interacting” with her, she leaves the room.  She’s found it hard over the last couple of weeks.  We both think the MMR whacked his system.  She thinks I should try Controlled Crying at night. Can’t.  I always go back.  This evening I put him down, sang him his lullaby, and he started getting up, biting my hand, sticking his fingers up my nose, rolling over, pressing his head against mine and grabbing the bars of the cot.  That’s interacting, I thought, and I said goodnight, kissed him, and went to Son 1.  Son 2 raged and roared and ranted.  “We’ll do two books,” I said to Son 1, “then I have to go  back to Son 2 because I can’t stand him making that noise.”  ”OK,” said Son 1.  We looked up the things we saw today in his Ocean Encyclopedia.  Son 2 fell silent during the seahorse.

The Christmas Tree

1.  December Sunshine

2.  Decorations

3.  Marvellous Him

We went to The Beach.  Sheltered from the bitter prevailing wind, it was paradise.  Cold, but spectacular.  Blue sky, blue sea, bright sunshine and crisp fresh air.  We shared it only with about 20 dog owners and their hounds.  And a couple of old ladies in swimsuits and hats having a dip in the sea.  Our party numbered four mothers, seven boys aged 4 and under, one girl aged 18m and one old sloppy dog.  The other dogs stayed down by the water (for a change.)  The boys stayed up on the sand (for a change.)  The sloppy dog didn’t try and hump any of the other dogs (for a change.)  And the mad woman with the spaniel who beat the sloppy dog when it tried to hump her dog wasn’t there.  So many Good Things.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was exhausted, and fell out with his best friend.   Son 2 aged 14m slept for about 20 minutes and was then woken up by boys yelling.  They were not at their best.  I packed up to go and Son 1 played on a wooden table top.  And then slid off, head-first, stuck, upside down, legs on the table, face wedged on the bench.

Son 2 roared, Son 1 whinged. I got them home and fed them lunch.  Er… at quarter to three.  See previous comments about how well they behave for Wonder Nanny, who has never been known to wing a meal.  The Man came back and took Son 1 out to get a Christmas Tree.  I put a reluctant, over-tired, Very Loud Indeed Son 2 to sleep.   A tree arrived, together with a blitheringly excited Son 1.  “We can’t go in the loft for the decorations while Son 2 is asleep.  We’ll wake him up.”  Son 1 has never seen any reason to mind if Son 2 is awake.  This has been the root of a great deal of tension between him and us over the last 14m.  We went in the loft for the decorations.  Son 2 woke up.  Nanna came round.  The tree was decorated.  The little boys were entranced.    

And through it all,  Son 2 walked.  Ten and twelve steps at a time.  Backwards and forwards in the kitchen, wearing his Marvellous Me expression.  Wobbling round the beds upstairs.  To the washing machine.  On the beach, just a little bit, to show everyone what he could do.  And then afterwards he needed a finger to hold on to.  This is obviously confidence-gathering time.  But he walked for Nanna, he walked for The Man and he walked for Son 1.    He cuddled Son 1 before they went to bed, he fell asleep almost straight away, and he’s (so far) stayed asleep.  Mmmm.  Is it possible that this Walking Thing might sort out the Sleep Problems?

A Spoonful Of Sugar

1.  Christmas Play

2.  Play Date

3.  Cold Play

Our First School Play.  We Are So Proud.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was a robin.  Brown tights, brown long-sleeved tee-shirt, red belly tied round his tummy.  Painted brown nose.  He had to flap a lot with the other robins, and looked very worried throughout.  But all the best robins look worried.  How the other parents must have wished their children weren’t on stage with ours.  Eclipsed, outshone, overshadowed by the best robin ever.  We of course was robbed, and he should have been Joseph.    Only that was Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser’s son.  A non-speaking part.  And he had a tea-towel on his head so no-one could see how well his hair was cut by his Mummy.

We only just made it back home before some of our Wednesday Friends arrived for tea.  They are mid extension-building, and are now down to just a microwave to cook with.  I’d made stew.  Farmshop meat, organic everything, mash, broccoli/cauli and cheese sauce.  The Man, the Mother and I wolfed ours.  The children – Son 1, Son 2 aged 14m, and the guests, boys aged 4 and 2 – ate nothing.  The Man begrudgingly agreed that the leftovers could go home with the Mother to her partner, who was putting an extra coat on the kitchen.  Son 1 and his friends ate iced buns.  The icing off the iced buns that is.

The children went down to sleep relatively easily, but it was very late.  At 10 past 8 I went downstairs.  The lounge looked like a plane wreck.  The dressing up box had been looted and spread out over the carpet.  Various bits of various outfits were hanging up on the stairgate.  The kitchen had dirty pans, plates and plastic pots on every surface.  And The Man had gone to bed.  I went for a run.  And I started thinking positively.  The lounge wouldn’t take long to do.  The kitchen would be easy.  It rained.  This is ok, I thought.  I’m a runner.  I’m getting wet, but I don’t care.  The rain got heavier and heavier.  Being positive, I thought, at least it’s not too cold, and at least it’s not windy.  It pelted down.  So hard that yard-wide puddles appeared before me… so hard my hair was plastered to my head, so hard my feet were squelching in my socks.   Then I reached half way.  When I finally arrived home I was drenched through and freezing. And The Man had tidied the lounge, and was making a start on the kitchen.

Last Glance Back

1.  Past

2.  Present

3.  Yet-To-Come

We are slowly but surely leaving babyhood behind.  I feel like I’m on the deck of a ship looking back at a land I won’t visit again.  Pang.  Walking is now the preferred mode of getting about.  There is still a lot of plonking down on the bottom, there is still some dropping down and crawling, there is still a lot of pushing child-size plastic chairs up and down the kitchen (being lapped by Son 1 aged 4y 2m doing the same thing.)  But 90% of the time Son 2 aged 14m is, without thinking,  choosing to walk.  It’s great.  Feet wide apart, eyes bright, and very often carrying something at the same time.  Being Son 2 there is of course a fair crack of pace already.

The new way to Son 1’s Nursery goes past the Old Nursery.  Son 1 always waves as we go by.  “Shall we take them a Christmas Card and a present?” I asked this morning.  So after I picked him up tonight we pulled over and I rang.  And we dropped in.  Four nursery nurses there to greet us, all of whom were there when Son 1 started aged < 6m.  They cooed over Son 1 in his uniform.  Haven’t-you-grown, they exclaimed.  How we miss Son 2.   Son 1 gripped my leg like a koala up a tree and buried his face in my coat.  He didn’t know any of the children, who were all under 3 years old.   It’s still loving, and it’s still lovely, but we were right to move him.

Today’s other Achievement was a pile of Christmas Shopping. Tower of Doom, various monsters, angler fish set and a Ben 10 Omnitrix for Son 1.  And a farm puzzle and a Winnie The Pooh bath set for Son 1.  Yes I know there’s a slight imbalance there.  What does everyone else do?  Son 2 is impossible.  He doesn’t play with any age-appropriate toys.  He likes Son 1’s toys.  The more chew-off-and-choke pieces, the better.  His Favourite Thing Ever is switching the telly off. Pressing the button to make the DVD drawer come out.  Playing with (adult) mobile phones.  Pressing the house phone buttons (so far no emergency services have been summoned, but it’s only a matter of time.)  Shape sorters and plastic talking toys simply won’t Shake His Pot.  He might have to have the Omnitrix.

Heavenly Children

1.  The Heavenly Child

2.  The Little Boy

3.  The Perfect Cuddle

“Son 2, switch off the telly,” said The Man this morning, as we went down for breakfast.  Son 2 aged 14m tottered across the bedroom and switched off the telly.

We have some Sophisticated Cosmopolitan Friends who have just, long after everyone else, had their first baby.  Possibly even later starters than us, but we can’t remember how old they are and we’re too polite to ask.  We took the Boys around today to meet the New Arrival, who is 4 weeks old.  A Heavenly Child.  Perfect little face, pointy chin, deep blue eyes, teeny tiny hands, feather light and just generally all-round wonderful.  Son 2 aged 14m in his 6 – 9 month trousers and top suddenly looked almost hulking.  They have a Maternity Nurse to get the New Arrival into a routine, so that by the time she leaves when he is three months he will be in A Routine And Sleeping Through The Night.    I  swear not a muscle moved on my face.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m wanted to watch telly this afternoon, so I took Son 2 outside.  We played out the front, and he twinkled at the passers-by.  Our haul was one old man, who said hello, and was rewarded with an “Awoh” when he was about twenty yeards past our house… our neighbour from down the road, walking by with her friend, who stopped for a Haven’t-You-Grown and a Goodness-You-Are-So-Like-Son-1… and our next-door neighbour’s son, dropping off Christmas presents.  The Easterly wind did for us, and we went into the back garden.  Son 2 leapt onto Son 1’s old pushalong car, and propelled himself around on it.   I pushed him up the slope, he pushed himself down.  He got on, he got off, he got back on again.  He was great, so independent and such a boy.

The Good Thing about tea was that I cooked, and we all sat down to a meal together.  The slight snag was Son 1, who got up 40 times, and crowned his evening by trying to stack up the table mats and tipping over The Man’s wine.  Sent to bed.  No pudding.  No books.  Which meant I had longer with Son 2.  And after his bath, one of those brilliant moments.  My uncuddly, hyperactive little boy snugged down and gave me a massive cuddle.  “Aaaaaaahhhhhh,” I said.  “Aaaahhhhhh,” said Son 2.  He would usually have been rockhard rigid, trying to get away, or sticking his fingers up my nose,. Tonight, even when I said “Lie down please like a good boy so I can put your nappy on,” he clung and went “Aaaaaaahhhhh,”  It lasted ages.  And then I looked over his head. He was hugging me, but one arm was outstretched, tracing the pattern on the bath with his finger.

Talking Animals

1. The Look After Shop

2. Fur And Feathers

3. Fish and Chicks

The Man left at 0330 on a Business Trip.  A crisp, clear, cloudless day. Son 1 aged 4y 2m wanted to go to the Bird Park. En route we passed some Boarding Kennels. “It’s the Look After Shop,” said Son 1. “For dogs and cats and birds and mice and guinea pigs.” We picked up Nanna. Son 1 and Son 2 aged 14m played in the toddler area. Son wanted to play in the Ball Pool; Son 1 on the climbing frame, his Pirate Ship. I have resolved to play together as a threesome wherever possible, so Son 2 and I joned Son 1 on the Ship. Son 2 chatted and waved and Arowed-ed. Son 1 ran away. Son 2 loved it. A wall up to his nose? Up went the leg to try to climb. He sobbed in fury when I picked him up during his attempt to walk across the rope bridge. “So what if my feet are so small they fall through each hole in the net… leave me here PLEASE and I’ll work it out.”

By early afternoon, both were exhausted, but didn’t want to leave. Son 1 lay down in the ball pool. Son 2 refused to go in his Pram. Plank Boy. “If you go in your pram, I’ll take you to see some owls and penguins and parrots,” I said softly. Son 2 let me buckle him up. “What do you say to an owl?” I said. “Ooooo,” he said. At the Owls, I took him out so he could see them better. He stared and pointed. And then refused to go back in the Pram. “I’ll take you to see some rabbits if you go in your Pram,” I said. Again, he folded at the middle and sat quietly while I strapped him in.

Son 1 fed the goats with gusto. Well, goat food really, but it was the first time he’s been casually confident in feeding them. Like always, I fed the big goats to distract them so he could feed the babies. This time though he enjoyed himself so much he didn’t care what size he ended up with. When our bags were finished I picked up discarded goat food out of the long grass so he could keep feeding them. He danced around me waiting for each pellet. Son 2 fed the babies, but kept trying to eat the goat food himself. We fed a Black Sheep. Did you know Black Sheep have Black Tongues? We missed the penguin feeding time, but we watched the otters. They had chicks and fish and hearts and quail.

Ladybird, Ladybird

1. Early Bird

2. Mocking Bird

3. Homing Pigeon

Son 2 aged 14m woke at 0425am, calling for me. The insistent, foghorn: waaaah waaaah waaaah. I’d gone to bed at midnight, so decided to give him 10 minutes. He realised I wasn’t coming straightaway, and lost his temper, arpeggio cries getting angrier. And then he went back to sleep. I think the sleeping has been better since he started walking. I got up at 0530, so we wouldn’t have a mad rush for Nursery. We still had a mad rush for Nursery.

I drove to the Whacking Great City (population 125x The Town’s) for The Office. 3 Hours + A fine, cold morning, but wet roads. The car I’ve only just taken through the car wash was covered in crud. Windscreen washers all the way. BC I went to WGC a lot. But I haven’t been since long before Son 2 was born. I parked the car, and instantly noticed better-trained classical buskers. Ours are a bit folky. And surely in the old days there were never as many women with pushchairs. Wherever I looked, mothers were pushing sleeping moppets, alert pre-schoolers or fat swaddled babies in buggies and prams. While mine were 200 miles from my side. Ladybird, Ladybird Fly Away Home. She was definitely a Working Mother.

And then I had to get back for Wonder Nanny, who had already agreed to start early and leave late. I left the meeting later than I thought. Then I had to stop for some Office phone calls. Then there was a crash on the Motorway. The the fuel light came on. I cruised along ignoring it, knowing where I was going to stop. I pulled in. The garage was shut, coned off, three police cars parked on the forecourt, bright fluorescent jackets visible inside. There’d been a police incident, said a staff member. “Where’s the next garage?” I asked. 12 miles Thataway, or 3 miles back the way I’d just come. When I got home, Son 2 was asleep but Wonder Nanny had let Son 1 stay up. I put him to bed, and went downstairs. There was a card from the police on the mat. Next door but two was burgled today. Ring if we know anything.

Treasure

1. Bottled Treasure

2. Forbidden Treasure

3. Little Treasures

I heard Son 2 aged 14m at about 0605, and left him. He didn’t sound too bad… but then started to get louder and I went in at about 0645. He wanted food and milk, so we went downstairs. I gave him a snack and then got my bottom smacked by a gorgeous, grinning, blue-eyed younger man. Aged 4y 2m. We had a reasonably sedate start to the day, although I had to be dressed for the BT engineer who was coming at 8am. And I had a huge, lethally-jagged broken whisky bottle to give the recycling men. Well over 20 years since it contained whisky. Son 1 broke it yesterday. “Why did you keep playing with it when everyone told you not to?” “Because of the money inside.”

The BT engineer didn’t turn up, so out we went. We saw a neighbour from next-door-but-two, and asked about the burglary. Credit card swipe entry on a yale lock at 5pm, went in, took a laptop, iPod and money, then walked into the next room, was surprised by someone there and then strolled out, carrying the gear. We went to the Museum. Son 2 was walking round, triumphant, independent, and wearing his Aren’t-I-Great face. Then a 2 year old pinched him. The saddest, mouth-turned down, can’t-breathe-too-upset expression ever, and he dissolved into lengthy howls. Son 1 and his 4 year old friend were in pirate costumes. Son 1 had kindly taken the friend a sword so they could both fight. Son 1’s sword was twice the length of the one he lent his friend. They sat side-by-side at the crayoning table. Pens, paper, glitter, glue, an odds-and-ends box and scissors had been provided for children to make Christmas Cards. Son 1 and his friend made Treasure Maps instead.

Our friends weren’t lunching, so the boys ate snacks and sandwiches, and then I got them a plate of chips while I had a coffee. They were great, they sat together, they ate their chips, they drank their drinks, they played with each other, they chatted (Son 1) and chirruped (Son 2.) Back at the house Son 2 insisted on playing outside in the front garden. He got a man to say “hello,” within minutes… and Son 1 was chatty to another one of our neighbours from way down the Terrace. She’s always stopped to talk to him, and he’s always hidden behind my legs/coat and done the Shy Boy routine. Again, good to see him with a bit more social confidence. We raced across the gravel, all three of us, me holding Son 2’s hands, Son 1 winning each time, Son 2 giggling, squealing and hooting till his legs couldn’t run any more.

Baggage Handling

1. Vanity

2. Brevity

3. Immunity

Before Children I travelled around the UK. From about 1996, I put together a very nice set of matching luggage. Big suitcase, bigger suitcase. Garment carrier. Cabin bag. Vanity case. Before airline luggage restrictions, and before WAG bags, I used the vanity case for overnights, tripping from airport to airport in my suit and high heels, carrying my little statement square box. After luggage restrictions it became a bathroom receptacle – the place all the lotions and potions go to keep things tidy. Son 2 aged 15m loves to play with it, getting out all the bits and bobs and putting them back in again. This morning I put it on the floor for him, he opened it and waddled off. And then Son 1 aged 4y 2m went into the bathroom, lifted the loo seat, got distracted, arc-ed round and peed into my beautiful, expensive, link-with-the-old-me vanity case. Usually when he misses it’s a few spatters. This time it was sopping.

Son 1 and I had a great trip into Nursery. Out of the house on time, stuck in traffic lights, but then the roads so clear that he 1 said: “This is good, Mummy, isn’t it?” “Really good,” I said. “Where do you think everyone’s gone? What do they know that we don’t?” “They’ve gone to the hospital,” he said. “They’ve all got sore throats.” We parked by the mushrooms so Son 1 could walk on the muddy path. Part of which is now blocked by construction fences, a clinker road and diggers. Since Monday. We were so early I got to talk to the teachers. Son 1 sat down demurely at a table colouring in with a yellow pen while I went through the physio findings.

Son 2 had another jab. I took him – I hate the thought of his doing anything stressful without his Mummy. He had a great time playing with the toys at the Doctors’… he smiled and twinkled at the nurse… and then she stuck the needle in his fat thigh. His face disintegrated and he HOOWWLLED. And then he shrank away from her as she tried to mop up and put a plaster on his leg. It was the last one thankfully – I hate him having them. I looked on the bright side; it was great seeing Son 2 during the day for a bit. (But I still hate them.)

Staying Power

1.  Warming Up

2.  Endurance Event

3.  Prizegiving

Wrecked this morning. Cold-ridden.  Exhausted. To bed at 0130.  Woken at 0630 by Son 1 aged 4y 2m screaming the place apart.  Son 2 aged 15m woke up.  In the summer, when it’s warm and light, Son 1 padded upstairs and clambered into the Big Bed.  Now it’s cold and dark he just screams and screams till a parent goes and gets him.  And by the time we get there of course his brother is awake.    

Not a day to aim high.  I needed to take a suit to the dry cleaners (dropped melted butter down the skirt yesterday rushing to get ready for Nursery) and we wanted more library books.  But that was about it.  I had dreams.  Both boys were so tired, I thought if we put them in the prams and pushed, they would nod off, and there would be a few minutes’ Peace On Earth for The Man and me.  Well we went to the library, where Son 2 pulled out all the baby  books, all the early reader books and started on a little pile of DVDs… and we went through The Town.  All the way to The Square.  Son 1 was singing Jingle Bells and Son 2 was cooing and calling All The Way.  I told Son 1 he could have a sweet from his Trick Or Treat bucket if he had a snooze, and the poor boy really tried… but nope.  Pulling the buggy hood down over you and pretending didn’t count.

When we got home we did our usual late lunch for starving boys, and then  I snuggled Son 2 to sleep on the double bed in his room.  He was way past wanting to nap, but was happy having a cuddle with me.  I have made cuddling progress with him at last, but it has been a long haul.  From being ramrod alert the whole time, and viewing Mummy’s arms as something you use to reach things or transport you, he is slowly starting to relax and snug in/cuddle when he’s asked.  And he even does it now without being prompted.   The feeling of a soft, fluffy head snuggling in under my chin is a money-can’t-buy luxury I wish I could somehow save.

Santa, Snow And Reindeer

1.  Be Good For Goodness Sake

2.  A Winter Wonderland

3.  Santa Baby

Had a lie in till 0715.  Heard the boys and The Man downstairs but couldn’t get up and didn’t. Eventually a cup of coffee arrived, and then Son 1 aged 4y 2m.  I tried reading to Son 2 aged 15m, but Son 1 was maddening.  Loud, boisterous, destructive, annoying.   Eventually I said “What is in your head when you behave like this?” He said: “My heart is broken because Son 2 is getting all the Mummy Time.”  Ah.    They  both do this.  They’ll both take turns and be sensible when it’s just me, but as soon as The Man or Nanna is added to the equation – which I think will make things easier – they both squabble and roar and irritate, ready to fight to the death not to be the one who gets the second best.

We went to a Garden to see Santa.  It rained as we drove there, grim charcoal-black clouds getting thicker and lower.   When we arrived the boys were asleep, and the rain driving harder.  And it was ARCTIC.  I bought the tickets and sent everyone else into a barn to keep out of the rain.  “Follow the Christmas Trees to Santa,” said the chap in the booth.  Son 1 wouldn’t pull his hood up because he was wearing his Santa hat, and wanted the Great Man Himself to see it.  And then it started to snow.  Proper, light, swirling, coming-faster-and-faster snow.  It snowed all the way down to Santa.  It snowed while we were waiting and looking at all his small but gorgeous reindeer.   A rainbow arched across the sky… faded and then re-appeared.  “This is how you know it’s really Santa,” I told Son 1.  “He needs the snow for his reindeer, and he’s using magic to make rainbows.”  “With his computer?”

Santa was very well done – he sat in a chair and said nothing, a female helper read “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”  Son 2 was scared, but calmed down for the story.  The eight other children were transfixed.  Son 1 sat straight the whole time, shooting his hand into the air for every question.  At the end they got a toy reindeer and The Man took photos.  When we got outside the snow had stopped, and a man on a tractor was stirring a vast vat of fake foam which was being blasted around Santa’s log cabin as we left.  In the cafe Son 1 took one of the decorations off their enormous Christmas Tree.  “Son 1!” I snapped. “I can’t believe you’ve done that here!  You know Santa is very near – is he sees you do that nothing I can say will get you presents on Christmas Day!”  Total disintegration of small child.  Red face. Distress. Real tears.  The Man had the same effect on Son 2 later on when he gave him a Salt and Vinegar crisp.

A Light In The East

1.  Three Good Things

2.  Bright and Beautiful

3. Moonrise

Son 1 aged 4y 2m is on holiday.  Hooray, no early morning chargearound to get to Nursery.  Wonder Nanny’s birthday, and we’d got balloons and cakes to celebrate.  And a visitor from HQ at The Office, nice to see them, seemed to go well.  So I had Three Good Things… but it’s been a hard day.  Son 2, after his learning-to-walk triumph, tottering confidently here and there for a week or so, has started to fall over again, or plop down on his bottom.  He did it yesterday, he did it today.  Wonder Nanny has noticed it too.  It didn’t happen with Son 1 and I don’t like seeing him do it.  The Man wonders about an ear infection maybe affecting his balance.  I am hoping it’s just stuff babies do.

This afternoon was the funeral of a colleague.  In her early sixties, cancer.  Someone who smiled and laughed always, who adored her family and who helped others the whole time.  She was fantastic to Son 1.  A simple service, hundreds of people there.  I walked back with another colleague and we were in adolescent mood.  It was so unfair.  She would have made so much difference to so many people if she’d been given another twenty years, yet there are people who do get those twenty years who do nothing with them.   We decided she would want us to be positive, and cheered ourselves up.  And then we went to the Wake, where the pub was full of people chatting, and her poor broken-hearted husband who’d given up pretending not to cry.  It was still unfair.

After the children went to bed I posted some Christmas Cards, just to go for the walk.  On the way back, across the river, I saw a faint light on the horizon.  Oh good, I thought, a moon rise.  I’ll stay and watch it because it’ll be quick and it’ll make me feel better.  The smoky cloud was just at hilltop level, and light spread behind it.  Then I realised that the moon must have risen already behind the cloud, because there was only light diffusing over a wider area, with no sign of anything causing it.  And then a molten gold ingot appeared on the horizon.  Fiery, far brighter than before.   A round orange face inched over the hill, a part golden coin gradually appearing,  It was amazing.  The water was still, the cloud was in charcoal smudges across the brightening sky.  Within minutes the gold coin had separated from the horizon, and was slowly lifting off into the sky.  The higher it went, the whiter it became, its reflection shimmering on the still river.  A last message from my late colleague.

Spring In The Autumn

1.  Little Yellow Book

2.  Cuckoo

3.  Late Lambs

Son 2 aged 15m enjoyed his books this morning. We do five if we can… today we got up to seven before he decided to crawl off towards the bathroom.  He pointed and “Am-ma”-d at the book shelf, and then tottered over, reached up, and picked his favourite animal picture book.  Baby Bright.  We sit there flipping through pictures of a horse, a fox, an owl, a parrot, guinea pigs, a zebra, a lion, a dog, a penguin.  Son 2 loves the fish.  Am-ma is his current word for… everything really.  Milk. Mummy.  Fetch that. I dropped that.  I want to switch the light on and off.  He is also doing Uh-Oh if he drops something, and Ah-lo for hello.  Various snap snap quack quack noises for crocodiles and ducks.  Just yesterday and today I’ve noticed him trying to make new sounds.  Maybe that’s why he falls over when he’s walking.

Sickness has gripped The Office, so it was intense and fast-paced with every minute over-filled.    A long, hard day.  I was so late back.  Boys in pyjamas, playing, staying up waiting for me.  Son 2 was legging it for the top flight of stairs as I came up towards the landing.  “Cuckoo,” I said, from the stairs below him, peering through the bannisters.  ”Ah-lo,” he said and carried on trying to escape upstairs.  I took him up while I changed.  He grapped a remote, climbed on a toybox and tried to switch the telly on.  “Am-ma,” he pointed “Am-ma.”  I picked him up and took him downstairs and he launched into a high-Richter tantrum.  I couldn’t cuddle him, I could barely hold him. Plank boy, horizontal in my arms, head thrown back, heart pounding in his little boy chest. I got him back with his animal book, but then when we stopped reading, he tried paddying again.  I put him in the cot and he passed out within minutes.  Overtired.  The  vaccination on Thursday. He’s just not himself.

I’ve changed the name of the blog.   I have a colleague who’s worked in South Africa.   Way before the boys, I remember him talking about an expression there for a child born to an older mother.  A Late Lamb.  It came back to me after Son 1 aged 4y 2m was born.  I like it.  A Spring in the Autumn feel.  Like my boys.

Summer In The Winter

1. Beach Babies

2. He Be Bees

3. Oopsies

The Beach and The Garden. I asked Son 1 aged 4y 2m to keep Son 2 aged 15 out of the way while I took the Big Pram through the kitchen. He led him by the hand to the door. A little figure in a dark blue parkha, holding hands with a fat round anorak half his size, tottering ahead of the Pram. So sweet. Fantastic weather, blue skies, clear air, no wind, crisp and cold. Except on the beach, where Son 1 was running around in his sweatshirt and I took my jacket off. Son 2 walked a bit and played a bit, and then insisted on eating his way through the lunch box.

One of the Wednesday Mums has married in secret. At Halloween. I am absurdly pleased. Hardly anyone we know is married. although Wonder Nanny has just got engaged. Wednesday Mum says it was a necessity – like going for a smear. She asked the Registry Office if she and her partner could have a Civil Partnership, but apparently not. On the way back to the car there were about 20 bees on the flowering Hebes in front of a hotel. Honey Bees and Bumble Bees. Whoops there go the ice caps.

Back home Son 2 fell flat on his face. Nosebleed. Ibuprofen. I sat with the howling child on my knee, dose of ibuprofen in a hovering teaspoon, waiting for breath to be drawn so I could pop it in his mouth. A great globule of blood landed in the teaspoon, turning the cloudy white liquid red. Nice. I put Son 2 to bed and Son 1 and I watched Shrek 2. Then we played with the balloons we blew up for Wonder Nanny’s birthday. They were weasels. They had to be captured, fought, rounded up, thrown downstairs and chased. Son 1 barked orders; I obeyed. Nanna arrived. She too had to obey. I got Son 2 up. He burst a balloon with his toe nail. Mmmm. A little sign that Mummy’s been skiving one of her jobs again.

Presenting Problems

1.   Dawn Presence

2.   Perfect Presents

3.   Present Tense

The Man was away overnight.  I woke at 0615, aware of a presence, a pitter-patter of footsteps, the light touch of hands feeling for me in the dark and a whispered: “Mummy I want a wee.”  “Ok-don’t-worry-I’ll-put-a-light-on.” “It’s coming. Now.”  “Okay-okay-okay.”  We sorted him out, and then Son 1 aged 4y 2m climbed into bed. The idea was that we would cuddle in the cold and have a little snooze.  He didn’t stop talking.  We went downstairs for snacks and drinks, and then heard Son 2 aged 15 m wailing.  “Go upstairs and look after him while I bring the tray up.” Up he went.  Son 2 stopped crying.  When I got up Son 1 had put the lights on, put a balloon in his brother’s cot and was bouncing on the bed to entertain him.  A natural.  I might get him to babysit.

I Christmas-ed shopped at lunchtime.  Nanna is going to see The Family on Saturday, so my meagre pile of presents needed boosting.  And Nanna is going on the train, so the presents must be no weight.  She wanted make-up, which I think is quite cool as she is a lady of a certain age.  I only really managed to get hers, but I was pleased with it.  I looked everywhere for light presents suitable for The Brother and The Godfather.  Socks. Belts. Hankies.  Stuff it we’ll have to pay for lunch next time they visit. Teenaged Niece and Nephew are going to have money, which is all they want anyway.  And then I bought two more books for Son 1.  I had a long, long look for stocking fillers for Son 2.  I really am finding him very hard.  He’s got an ambulance Son 1 picked for his birthday that he likes, but other than it’s remote controls, computers, wires, phones and stairs.  And books. He likes books.  His latest trick is climbing up on the piles in Son 1’s room and surfing down on the top book, but he does like looking at them as well.

The Man came back from his Business Trip, which was a third Good Thing.   He had the shower on for Son 1 when I came up the stairs, which meant he didn’t hear Son 2 screaming because he’d caught his little baby fingers in a cupboard door.  I keep thinking I should just let Son 2 learn the hard way not to play with doors … but then I flash forward to the interview in the Guardian: “I lost the use of my right hand when I was a year old and my fingers got flower-pressed in the door hinge.”  We did the whole of Son 1’s babyhood with just two stair gates, so we still don’t quite believe the way Son 2 climbs on the the things we put down to stop him climbing.  We’re sure that his accepting, biddable side will emerge in a few more weeks.

Intelligence

1.   Santa Suits

2.  Top Trumps

3.  An Unusual Name

I had something to do for The Office today.  Then we took the boys to see The Town Band.  All dressed as Santas, starting out from our nearest pub, drumming, blowing whistles, singing carols.  Son 1 aged 4y 2 m was in a £2.99 child’s Santa suit with his tambourine, chasing the band, banging away.  He had a friend along as well.  He loved it.  He loved the response to his costume; he loved trying to keep up and catch up.  Son 2 aged 15m was in a Santa suit in the pram.  He had a go on a drum in the pub and loved it.  The Town Band stopped for refreshments at another local hostellry.  The boys were allowed to bang on the bass drum.   They took turns beautifully; 3 boys and two bass drum bangers.

Top Trumps is a spectator sport.  i remember it from my childhood.  My brothers had stacks of packs.  I think, for a reason I simply can’t remember now, that I had Windjammers.  Son 1 has Ben 10.  The MAn bought it for him on his way back from the last overseas Business Trip.  Son 1 loves his cards, and The Man has taught him how to play.  While I put Son 2 to bed, Son 1 and The Man commune.  Over activity  books, over comics, and now over Top Trumps.  Their bonding sessions rarely involve books – that’s what I do. Tonight I arrived early, an exhausted Son 2 having passed out almost as soon as I lay him down.  Son 1 didn’t want me.  He hadn’t finished. I watched him play and I loved it.  The Man and he only compete on “Intelligence.”  It is at the top of the card, and Son 1 can read out the number.  The The Man tells him who has got the highest number.  If it is Son 1, he gets the card.  If it is The Man, Son 1 gets the card.  I found a stray card on the floor.  Eye Guy. I don’t think he’s very intelligent… he seemed to have quite a high Freak score but that doesn’t count.  I handed over the card.

The Man and I were invited to a party, but had no babysitter.  I went anyway, figuring he never talks to me when we are out anyway.    I met some interesting people. I met someone who has just started at The Office who has an unusual first name.  Son 2 has an unusual first name.  “He will hate it as a child, but love it as an adult,” said my colleague.  I went for one drink and stayed for seven.

Anticipating Santa

1.  Spelling Out

2.  Pigging Out

3.  Running Out

Son 1 tells us he Cannot Wait For Christmas several times a day.  There are presents under the tree from some friends.  They are driving Son 1 aged 4y 2m mad.  He can’t stop feeling, poking, peeling and shaking.  “Who are they for?”  He asked.  “We don’t know.  We’ll have to see what Santa says.”  Son 1 investigated further.  “This one’s for me.  Look.  It says ‘Son 1′ on the card.”  Another lurch further forward down the bye-bye-baby path.  The one where you realise he’ll now always recognise his name when he sees it written.  The veg man cameth, bringing vegetables, mince pies, cheese, yoghurt and bananas.  The turkey is coming tomorrow.  And the eggs.  I showered with both boys playing in the bath at my feet, plug in, bubble bath squirted.

After breakfast Son 2 aged 15m played with the zoo, making animal noises, pulling the fence to pieces, stuffing animals in the pens. I put him down for a sleep, lying on the double bed next to him.  Then I went upstairs with Son 1, who wanted to lie down and watch a video.  Babe.  He managed to watch the whole thing without clocking what upset Babe enough to run away.  And as the closing credits ran, I asked what he wanted for lunch.  “Anything,” he said. And then thought: “Sausage. And mash. And beans.”  Splendid.  One vegetarian in the house is quite enough.

Granny and Granddad have come for Christmas, staying in the hotel down the road.  Son 2 and I went shopping, while Son 1 and The Man went down to say hello.   We all met up in Boots.  In Marks, Son 1 chose the cake for after Christmas Dinner.  At home they all played upstairs while I made what seemed like industrial quantities of Shepherd’s Pie.  The boys gobbled it up.  Son 1 ate some kale – how I love my small triumphs.  At bedtime Son 1 was playing his Ben 10 Top Trumps again.  And showing no sign of speeding up so I could read to him.  “I want to go running.  Do you want to play Top Trumps or have your stories?”  “Top Trumps,” he said.  I kissed him and off I went.  I won’t do that again.  When I came back, he was asleep, so I had a shower to wake him up.  He stayed asleep.  And I woke Son 2.

A Christmas Birthday

1.  Garden Party

2.  Sliding Down

3.  Wrapping Up

A Little Friend is 3 today.  His party was at a Nearby Garden.  I’ll take all the Christmas presents, I thought, taking a pile of five downstairs to wrap.  In front of Son 1 aged 4y 3m, while Son 2 aged 15m was napping.  Son 1 went nuts.  He wanted the little plastic paint-me figures, he couldn’t keep his fingers out of the Meccano boxes, he lifted the flaps in the  books.  Of course I gave up, and we just took Birthday Boy’s.  Son 1 wore his Santa outfit.  We went straight to see Santa in his grotto; 8 little boys aged 4 and under, 1 two-year old girl.  Santa was great, the grotto was great.  Is it me or are they getting better?  Santa asked all the little boys what they wanted for Christmas.  Son 1 couldn’t speak when it was his turn.  “A Knight’s Tower,” I said, “with some Monsters.”  “And what about this little one? ” said Santa.  “An iPod,” I said. “Or a mobile phone.” Santa stared and waited for a sensible answer, while small boys giggled and said “No-o,” Teletubbies fashion.  I made up a Farm and some bath toys.  Outside, Son 2 stared, rapt, at the mighty camera wielded by Birthday Boy’s parents, reaching out his little starfish hands for the buttons.  Sorry  darling, Santa didn’t believe me when I told him what you’d like for Christmas.      

The children had their faces painted.  They were all blue Power Rangers, which made Son 1 a Santa with a blue face. Lunch was served in the playground.  It was a dry, clear day so the children ate chocolate sandwiches and chased and slid and climbed and squabbled.  Son 2 reached for me every time Wonder Nanny picked him up.  That matters more than it should.  She lay him down on his back and dropped him down the slide… I caught him at the bottom.  He laughed and laughed and then started panicking in case we weren’t going to do it again.  Son 1 complained that Older Brother had hit him.  “You don’t need to tell me,” I said.  “Santa is very close and he’ll be watching Older Brother and won’t bring him any presents.”  They made up.  Cake was served.  Two more boys we know, aged 4 and 2 turned up, with their dad.  The children played, the grown ups chatted.

Some went home, we went back towards the grotto so Son 1 could make a Christmas Table decoration.  Red candle, a bit of clay, a base and all the foliage you can get in for a pound.  Son 1 did a very good job.  We put the boys in the car, they were both asleep by the time we got back to The Town, so I did a quick shopping run around Asda.  Trolley logjam.  Granny and Granddad came round to see the boys, who were fizzing with tiredness.  After bedtime, The Man and I wrapped present after present after present.  Son 2 has about 6 things, Son 1 about 15.  Must get something for Granny and Granddad tomorrow.  And for The Man, I suppose.

Shortest Days

1.  Christmas Cuddles

2.  Sprint Finish

3.  Blinking In The Bath

This morning Son 2 aged 15m was clingy and wonderful.  Even in his high chair, he was leaning forward for a cuddle.  He is outstanding value at the moment.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m just lay in his Ben 10 pyjamas on our bed watching Children’s ITV and complaining every time I changed it to CBeebies because Son 2 was in the room.  I really shouldn’t bother, because Son 2 always toddles up and switches it off.  I wouldn’t, except the wretched child then switches it back on again.  Son 1 did, however, heave himself down three flights of stairs for a goodbye kiss and cuddle.  And then instantly disappeared upstairs again. 

Ran round myself today at The Office trying to catch up with yesterday’s day off, and get ahead for the holiday.  In early and out late.  However, being bright and positive, working Saturday helped hugely, and we got through great chunks of the To Do list.   The Man came into the Big Town for his Business, and got a few more things from the Christmas Shopping list.  I was supposed to get something for myself, but didn’t have time.  Pointy shoes in the sales, methinks.   I didn’t get back in time for Wonder Nanny, which means we haven’t given her her Christmas present.  Oh bother, said Winnie The Pooh.

The boys had been down to The Museum, and were both exhausted, and delirious with excitement at my arrival.  I put them in the bath and they were gorgeous playing together.  Son 2 was trying to pour water from a jug over Son 1.  But the water kept tipping out over his own face, and he was blinking and lipsmacking, Stan Laurel-like, confused.  Son 1 was beside himself laughing, Son 2 wanted to laugh too because Son 1 was borderline hysterical… but couldn’t because he was blinking the water out of his eyes and spitting it out of his mouth… which made Son 1 laugh even more.   Then Son 2 was soaping Son 1’s back, then deciding he wanted a cuddle.. then standing up to cuddle me over the side of the bath (very wet top indeed) and then they started fighting over sharks.  In bed Son 1 whispered “When is Santa coming?”  Granny and Granddad talked non-stop of their antics over dinner.

Christmas Eve

1.  Coffee

2.  Church

3.  Presents

Son 1 aged 4y 3m longs for Christmas.  His tummy hurts.  He is excited.  Santa is coming tonight.  We have a deal that he can open his stocking and the big present under the tree he has his eye on – which he thinks is the Abyss underwater set but isn’t – and then he has to wait till Granny and Granddad get here.  He is also worn out.  Why are my children always so tired?  It can’t be anything to do with their five-hours-sleep-a-night full-time-working Christmas-Eve-but-I’ll-just-bash-a-blog out mother.  The Man went off to Marks for supplies with Son 2 aged 15m at about 9.  I prised Son 1 away from the telly and we met them, and Granny and Granddad for coffee.  Son 1 misbehaved, tired and excited.  Son 2, uncharacteristically, fell asleep in the Big Pram.

I took them to church.  The vicar wrote us a letter for a C of E school saying we attend from time to time, and I don’t want him to go to hell for lying.  We met some Wednesday friends there.  Son 1 and Older Brother tore up and down the aisles, played with the toys at the back and chattered, oblivious to proceedings.  Son 2 picked, uninterested, at the greenery arrangements.  In the middle of the reading Son 1 proclaimed “I need a poo,” and off we set, round pews, through doors, over concrete flooring, through an office, via a robing room (oops, that’s not it then) to the Tiny Loo.  We took Monday’s Birthday Boy with us.   Four of us couldn’t fit in, so we held the door open.  Birthday Boy is known for roaming, and wanted his Mummy.  Son 2 is unstoppable.  Son 1 took forever.  A flight of stairs plunged downwards yards from our nook.  After 10 years the Other Mother arrived, having only just realised I was three-up and out of control.  “This service isn’t very long,” I thought, as we warbled “Away in a Manger” to finish.  Then I realised we’d been waiting for Son 1 for about 20  minutes.

Son 1 put out a mince pie, a sherry and two gold chocolate coins for Santa, and a carrot and milk for the reindeer.  He was allowed to eat a chocolate coin to make sure they were good enough for Santa.  Then he decided to leave only one chocolate coin for Santa, and to put the other one back in his Trick or Treat bucket.  We decided he could leave two small ones out for Santa, but he could eat the big one.   Both boys were asleep at 7pm.  Who’s SuperMummy?  Granny and Granddad babysat, and we went round to our friends’.  We were supposed to be staying for one and then going to the pub, but they had crisps, and champagne, and an open fire, and we were talking and drinking and drinking and talking and then we had to go because G and G don’t really do Late.  Back home I put chocolate decorations on the tree, gold coins in the treasure chest and filled the stockings (not enough stocking fillers, where’s open at midnight on Christmas Eve?) while The Man heaved bags of presents down the stairs and piled them under the tree.  I need to get up at 6am to see to the turkey.  I can’t wait for the morning to come.

Tags: Abyss, aisles, Away In A Manger, chocolate coins, Christmas Day, Christmas Eve, Christmas Tree, Church, friends, Granddad, Granny, loo, mince pie, poo, presents, Santa, sherry, treasure chest, turkey, vicar

Sometimes I Wish That I Could Freeze The Picture

1.  Up

2.  Tummy Ache

3.  Mamma Mia

5am and the screams of a child in mortal peril split the night.  “I SPILLED MY DRINK!!!!! MUMMEEE SOB SOB SOB MUMMMMEEEE SOB SOB SOB.”  I sprint downstairs.  There is an outside chance the situation can be saved, but once Son 2 aged 15m is awake, we are all Awake.  And Up.   The bed isn’t wet.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m isn’t wet.  “What happened?” I whisper in the pitch black.  “My drink slid-ed out of my hand.”  “Where’s your cup?”  “On the floor.”  “Well I’ll leave it till we get up.”  I didn’t want the light on.  That would reveal the Christmas stocking.  And we would be Up.  I snugged down on the bed with Son 1.  Every time I thought his breathing was deepening, he asked “Can I get up yet?”  “No, it’s too early.” “Has Santa been?”  “I don’t know, it’s too early.”  “I made myself wake up early to open my presents.”    Snooze.  I could smell the spilt milk.  “Can I get up yet?”  “No.”  “I want to open my presents so much my tummy hurts.”  It was decades ago, but I can still remember what it feels like to want to open your presents so much your tummy hurts.  It was 0545.  I switched on the light.  Son 1 dived into his stocking.  I went to clear up the milk.  There wasn’t any.  His cup was still on top of his bed where it always is.  It was only a dream.

A present fest.  The boys opened their stockings and then  when Granny and Granddad came at about 0730 we started on the big stuff.  Son 1 ripped through his so quickly he was soon in mourning because everyone except him had some left.  Son 2 tore a few bits of paper off and then continued his remorseless and relentless pursuit of remote controls, mobile phones and electronic gadgetry.  He only came alive once every bit of wrapping paper had been stuffed into a great big carrier, whereupon he dealt with it in the traditional baby manner.  I rang Younger Sister at 11am.  She has Godfather, Nanna, Elder Sister, Godfather’s Mother, and Godfather’s Brother for Christmas lunch.  I told her about Son 1 and the early start.  “I want to open my presents so much my tummy hurts,” she said.  “But we’re still waiting for people to get up.”  We had  a turkey crisis.  The Man had put a fridge up in his Shed to house the overspill food.  He cranked up the temperature and put the turkey in it.  Then last night when he took it out he’d frozen it.  We had the heating on all night to thaw it, and this morning it was just very chilly indeed.  So it took forever to cook.  But we got there, and, at the time of writing, our meat-eating company of two pensioners, two under-fives and a Bloke is all still alive.  Son 1 and Son 2 were in pieces late afternoon, and we just plopped them in the bath.  In bed, Son 1 said “I love Christmas.”  “So do I.”  “I love you Mummy.”  “Oh that’s a kind thing to say. I love you too.”  “You’re so lovely,” and he snugged into my arms.    

Quarter to seven and they were both in bed, asleep.  Granny and Granddad had gone back to their hotel.  Nothing on telly.  “What about Mamma Mia?” I suggested, having bought it at the end of November, and not having managed to get near it since.  “You watch it, I’ll do this computer,” said The Man, who needed to wrestle with a laptop.  So, a couple of glasses of Cava, The Man till half way through “It is a bit of a chick flick, isn’t it?” “Honestly, it’s a war film. They’ll start shooting at each other any minute.”  I have got so many DVDs I buy and never watch.  Truman Capote. Jackson Pollock. Can’t remember.  Can only remember those because they’re people.  I am sure one day there will be More Time.  Anyway.  A very nice Christmas movie, Not As Good As The Show. Which I think I saw twice.  Can’t remember that either. Mailbox Is Full.  I liked:  Meryl, because she must be nearly 60, and that means I can still be Youthful and Fun and Fashionable when the boys are 20.  The songs, because I was there, queueing round the block to see Abba The Movie in 1978 when the first showing was full.  Pierce Brosnan singing.  It just made me laugh.  I think The Man looks like Pierce Brosnan.

This has got to be one of the longest posts I’ve done, but it’s Christmas.  I spared a couple of thoughts for the people who aren’t with their children on Christmas Day – a hell I only recently understood. During the film I thought about the day Son 1 and Son 2 tell me they’re not coming home for Christmas for the first time. And then Son 1, barefoot in his Ben 10 pyjamas, bounding down the stairs to let Granny and Granddad in “Quick quick come in, it’s time to open the presents.”

Skull And Crossbones

1.  Whiteout

2.  Green slime

3.  Red eyes

A murmer from Son 2 aged 15m this morning, and The Man was gone.  I passed out again.  And was woken when a wall of light exploded in my brain.  It burned my eyes and seared my skull like it was bleaching my roots from the inside.  TheMan, I thought fuggily. Itmustbelateandhewantsmeup.  A flutter beside me.  “Mummy here’s a present for you.  I found it. ” Son 1 aged 4y 3m.  I’d left a tub of eyecream under the tree yesterday, because I knew what it was, and because I was busy.  “I’m sorry I opened it.” “That’sallright.Turnthelightoff.”  “I can’t reach the light.”  “You can reach the light. You turned it on.” “I can only reach it to turn it on.  I can’t reach it to turn it off.”

Son 1 had several pirate things for Christmas, including a game in which you fill a plastic skull with slime and have to fish plastic coins out of it.  I checked the list written in haste on a Christmas card.  I didn’t write down who it was from.  That means we can’t thank them.  I put Son 2 to bed, we filled up  the skull and off we went.  Son 1 fished with relish while I checked his coins were the right ones.  I got good at flicking through the ones in the slime to see which ones they were.  The Man lost, but he was the only one with a clean hand at the end.  There was a lot of slime on the FT, and a lot down Son 1’s top.  He won.  Granny and Granddad arrived as I was washing the coins, and declined the offer of a game with our champion.

Son 2 ate leek and potato soup for lunch, which was a Good Thing because he’s eaten nothing but sausages and sweets for the last two days.  Granny stayed in, and Granddad, The Man and I walked the boys down to The Square.  Son 2 was swaddled up in the Big Pram, Son 1 was in his parkha and my big leather gloves.  Son 1 ran and chattered all the way down.  Unfortunately he misunderstood what The Man said we were doing, which was walk down to The Museum and have a coffee in The Square while the children ran about.  Son 1 thought that meant we were going in the Museum.  And it was shut.  He howled and real tears flooded his face.  He rode on The Man’s shoulders on the way back.  The walk did him good – he was asleep before we’d finished his stories tonight.  Son 2 went down well, but has just been up for ages, and The Man’s gone in to sleep with him.  Instant quiet.  It’s got to be teeth.  Those big ‘uns deep in his jaw bone.  The clue is in the way he stands up and gnaws the rail of the cot while he cries indefatigibly for rescue.

A Free Lunch

1.   The Din In The Dark

2.   Sale Rails

3.  The Lunchtime Lull

Oh. What. A. Night.  The Man was already in with Son 2 aged 15m.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m arrived… whenever… clambered over the top of me and plopped in the Big Bed on the other side.  At 3am Son 2 started the loudest screaming fit yet.  Louder, louder, more and more hysterical.  Code for: I WANT MUMMY AND IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD GET HER GET HER GET HER.  It must be an evolutionary thing.  If he makes that noise just because he’s got the wrong parent in bed with him, he’s got to be able to fell bears with a shout under real attack.   I went down.  It took 15 minutes to calm him down; he had so completely lost it.  I slept with him, and he spent the next five hours waking every… whenever… and sobbing his heart out till I soothed him back to sleep.  I planned to get him back into his cot as soon as he went into his deep sleep – he didn’t.  Every time I moved away even an inch he shot out a hand to find me.   I vaguely heard Son 1 and The Man upstairs with the telly, and eventually went up.  It was 0830.  The latest I have slept in a very long time. 

And of course today was the day I wanted to be out of the house at 0830 to get to the Big Town for The Sales.  I skipped the books, skipped the shower, skipped breakfast, skipped dressing children, did my hair, put my make up on and left in 15 minutes.  I called into The Hotel to get Granny’s jumper which needed taking back.  Granny came too.  We did Monsoon - little boy trousers, little boy tops, odds ands ends, we did TK Maxx, we did Jaeger, we did Lakeland.  And we were back within an hour and a half. 

After Son 2’s lunch we packed up the boys and set off for The Square.  It was brutally, bitterly cold, with a gale force Easterly freeze-blasting skin and clothing.  “I’m getting draughted everywhere!” complained Son 1, so we rolled him up in his blanket and sat him in the battered MacLaren.  I tried to  pull the blanket down over his face so he could see.  “Leave it,” he said. “It’s cosy in here.”  By the time we got to The Square we had both boys asleep.  The Man, Granny, Granddad and I had wine, starters, pizzas and coffees while both children slept on.  Never in our Family History have we achieved this.  Granddad paid.  The waitress said they’d box up Son 1’s meal for him.  As we left, they made him a new pizza because his other one had dried out.  When we got home he ate every scrap, including his dough balls.  An honourable mention for PIzza Express.  They didn’t have to do that, but it made a big difference.

Higgledy Piggledy House

1.  Never Land

2.  Creative Conflict

3.  A Whole New World

Son 2 aged 15m woke when The Man went up last night.  I couldn’t get him back to sleep.  Son 2 went in with The Man.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m woke screaming in the small hours I went downstairs and got in with him.  He still soothes himself by stroking my eyebrows and/or eyelashes when he’s tired, and I have to lie on my right side with my face towards him so he can reach them.    He slept, I dozed, until a whispered: “Mummy.  I need a poo.”  We read his new pop-up Peter Pan book till next door woke up.  The Man and I competed over who had had the worst night’s sleep.

The Man went shopping, I put Son 2 down for his nap and went up to where Son 1 was watching telly.  “Shall we paint your Power Rangers now?”  “No, I want to watch this.”  I got my paper.  “No.  No newspapers.  Watch telly with me.”  “Your telly is your fun, my paper is my fun.”  “Reading papers isn’t fun.  It’s stupid.”  We went downstairs and started to paint the Power Rangers.  Every time I mixed a colour for Son 1, he painted the plate we were using with it, rather than putting it on the Power Ranger.  After the third or fourth time of telling him, I started to get annoyed.  “Stop doing that. You’re wasting your paint and I just have to mix even more colour.”  He got cross with me for getting cross.  “Stop it.  You’re a grown up and I’m only a little boy and I don’t know.”  I was forgiven very soon.  “Mummy I don’t want to grow up.”  “Why not?”  “I want to stay with you forever.”   After our artistic differences and deep meaningful exchanges about our relationship, Son 2 woke up.  We had painted one Power Ranger blue, and the other… er… red.

I gave the boys lunch and let them have chocolate cake for pudding.  Hell unleashed.  Every atom in Son 1’s body zinged up and down, back and forth and round and round.  Son 2 juddered about shouting and falling down.  And they fought.  Stepping over the contents of the recycling box – Son 2 is enjoying putting lids on and taking them off milk bottles – the crayon pack from the bottom of the pram, and the bits of washing they’d dragged away from the laundry pile, I packed them up and took them out in the freezing Easterly.     Later we went down The Terrace to see some friends.  The Ones With Girls.  The house was tidy.  The toys were wooden.  Son 2 dived into the olives thinking they were grapes, spat one out, picked another, spat it out, picked another and then gave up and started stuffing them into my mouth.

Whales and Snails

1. Life Of Mammals

2. A New Best Friend

 3. Coming Out Of The Shell

Up a little later.  Linked to going to bed a little later.  At about 2am, after Turkey Casserole for 9.  All right then, for eight, because we had a no-show.  All right then, for six, because there were two vegetarians.  We’ve served up Turkey Casserole about now for years, and the fact we can still do it is a Good Thing.  BC we weren’t bad at having People Round.  And now we’re… still doing Turkey Casserole, hooray, what a positive blog this is.  So the pace was a little slower first thing.  Even Son 2 aged 15m slept in till 8am.  A telly morning.  Of course, we only watch Nature Documentaries, so Son 1aged 4y 3m watched whales on Life of Mammals, spellbound.  Son 2 pointed at the screen and opened and closed his mouth like a fish.  He climbed into Son 1’s Tower of Doom, sat in it and then couldn’t get out.

Son 2 has an Elegant Aunt, who gave him a tasteful pullalong wooden snail for Christmas.  He mastered it today.  The telly watching allowed him to make many many laps of the lounge.  Son 1 unleashed hell, often, by taking it off him.  The snail has been in the kitchen, in the lounge, and was finally taken upstairs at bathtime.  It was still being towed it back and forth while Son 1 was in the shower.  I had to thwart a conspiracy to put the snail in the bath.  Son 2 likes Monkey Puzzle and The Gruffalo.  Snail and The Whale day, I thought.  Touch and go.  Not that interested.  Liked the penguins, the bear, the stranded whale and the fire engine.  Then realised you’re allowed to drive your snail back and forth over the pages every time the word “snail” is mentioned.  Now you’re talking.

I went out for a run.  A Good Thing.  I’ve made lots of excuses to myself over the past week, too tired, too busy, Granny and Granddad here, too late.  The main reason has been the wind.  Too Cold.  So I wrapped up in big thick hat, gloves and gilet and overboiled.  To the Bridge Over The River and back. The pace at the end of the day was also slow.

Making Music, Giving Joy

1.  Champagne

2.  Crunch

3.  New Year Parade 

Nanna and Brother did an early babysitting session yesterday, so The Man and I went out.  Champagne cocktails in a Yoof Bar watching people half our age limbering up to celebrate.  Sets of girls, gangs of lads, dressed in… everything.  Strictly Ballroom costumes… Incredible Hulk bodypaint, birds, Sylvester… Son 1 aged 4y 3m will be delighted to know that he’ll still be able to walk around Town dressed as a pirate when he’s grown up.  Many of the boys had black eyes and split noses.  Bound to be rugby. We headed backfor 2230.  Son 1 will probably not want to know that 25 years after leaving home he may still be rushing to get back for the time he told his Mother.  We opened champagne, chatted, said goodbye, and settled down to crisps and Jools Holland.  At midnight we went to sit in the bay window to look at the fireworks across the river.  In next door’s window, the Christmas tree wobbled, and then our Neighbours appeared, also to watch the fireworks.  They waved at us and we waved at them.  Three police officers walked along the pavement outside, so I waved at them.  They waved back.  The Neighbours raised glasses with us as the fireworks went off.

Another slowish start.  The house is full of new toys, so Son 1 watched hours of telly, playing with his Ben 10 Omnitrix, while Son 2 aged 15m took the three sections of the vegetable rack for a walk round the kitchen and hall.  Son 1 joined in, one section on his head as a helmet.  Son 2 copied him and walked into the fridge.  Son 1 was doing his collie-in-a-china-shop thing, so we took them out.   As we went through The Town we did economics and social history.  “Why are the shops shut?”  “Because it’s a holiday.”  “Is Woolworths on holiday?”  “No, Woolworths has closed for good.”  “Why?”  “Because they spent too much money and no-one would give them any more.”  “So can we never go in it again?” “No.”  WAIL. “I like going in Woolworths. I wanted to buy a Ben 10 tee shirt.”  Then we passed the arty cinema. Son 1 took an events booklet from outside.  He opened it at a still from the Baader-Meinhof film, showing two men shooting at a car.  “Who are these people?”  ”Robbers who captured people a long time ago.”  “Did they kill them?”  “Oh no.  Everyone escaped and the robbers were caught and sent to prison.”  “Did all the robbers get caught?”  “Yes.”  “Did they keep their guns?”  “No, the police took those away.”  “What did they do with them?” “They melted them down and made them into tin openers.”  “What’s a tin opener?”  A child of the ring pull age.

In the still-perishing wind, we trailed over to the Other Side of Town.  Five or six children were marching, Von Trapp fashion, along the lines of dark paving criss-crossing The Square.  Son 1 watched longingly.  “Do you want me to ask if you can play with them?” As he considered, a shout went out from a group of adults on the other side, and the children ran off towards them, leaving The Square empty.  Son 1 went and stood on a dark line.   I stood behind him, and marched on the spot.  He giggled, and off we went, marching up and down the lines.  He started to run, I chased him.  We went back and forth. He ran off towards an unlet shopfront, and hugged a swinging street sign while he caught his breath.  Eyes dancing, cheeks glowing, a wide smile of little white teeth, he looked up at me and said “I love you.”

Well Chosen And Beautiful Essentials

1.  Food

2.  Heart

3.  Laughter

We went for lunch with Brother and Nanna.   Because we got up late, we didn’t get Son 2 aged 15m down for a sleep.  Pizza again, because it worked so well with Granny and Granddad.  Both boys were thoroughly up.  Worn out, hungry and flying.  The restaurant was packed with families, but only one baby was making shrill screeches, and only one child was lying on the floor pushing his brother’s highchair away from the table.   A colleague from The Office arrived with spouse and two small children and sat on a table nearby.  Ah.  Now I couldn’t make shrill screeches at the boys.  The food arrived and they calmed down.

Nanna is breathless, and has been investigated for about three years.  The Lung Expert said it might be angina, and the Heart Expert said it might be asthma.  Nanna has had tests, wires, ops, and everything has come back clear.  She stayed with The Family for Christmas and returned to a letter from her GP.   She has a Heart Thing.  Hereditary.  Her children should go for scans.  The good news is Nanna is a Grand Old Age.  The bad news is I googled the Heart Thing.  It can cause teenagers to drop dead.  I decided I’d ring the Doctor.   He’ll book me in, but I need an ECG and an X-ray.  Appointments today.  The NHS is a Good Thing.  I sat in the waiting room, making the most of the chance to catch up on November’s Country Life.  Storage Solutions.  Apparently I should have only Well Chosen And Beautiful Essentials on surfaces and visible shelves.  It didn’t tell me how to fit the WCBEs on the surfaces and visible shelves when every inch is already covered in clutter. 

I made the Big Bed while The Man bathed the boys.   I could hear Son 2 laughing his little head off… deep, loud chortles from his soul.  Son 1 was also in uncontrolled fits.  There were soft barks back from The Man, and louder and louder Little Boy Laughter.  It was such a lovely sound that I went down to look.  They were splashing him; he was soaked, Son 2 was ringleading and wouldn’t stop… Son 1 ha-ha-ha-d. I went back up.  The Man got cross.  The children laughed louder.  The Man had enough and started snapping at them.  They loved that, and splashed-and-laughed-and-splashed-and-laughed.  The Man got them out.  They came upstairs and lay under the quilt while The Man shook it.  Son 2 sobbed, bereft, when I took him away to bed. It took me 45 minutes and both eardrums to get him to sleep.

A Grand Day Out

1.   Larks

2.   Wild Mutt

3.   Penguins

Another disturbed night – Son 1 aged 4y 3m this time, arriving in the Big Bed, kicking The Man out and keeping me awake for 2 hours.  It is wonderful being so loved by a small boy who wants only to snug up, cuddle and stroke my eyebrows, but he heat-seeks and then pummels, wriggles, tugs and grabs to position his Parent for maximum comfort.  He does it all while he’s stone asleep.  And I am not.  Another late start.  I wanted a Family Day Out.  Just the four of us, after 10 days of friends and family.  The Man was keen on a beach, away from freezing blasts of wind.  Or leaving just enough for a kite.   Son 1 didn’t want to go to the beach.  “Why not?” “Because I have to wash my hair when I go to the beach.”  “Only when you have sand fights.  Where do you want to go?” “To the Bird Park.”  A comedy half hour followed, in which The Man tried to persuade him to go to The Beach.

We went to the Bird Park.  Son 2 aged 15m played in the Ball Pool and toddler zone.  He loved sitting on the air jets, his breath blown away, his wispy fringe vertical, throwing balls overboard.  He flopped in the balls, he switched the jets on.  He followed Son 1 around the Under-5 climbing area, laughing as we sent him down the slide, happy and determined to copy his brother.  Son 1 was Wild Mutt, growling.  And Upgrade.  And Four Arms (I misread that one on the Top Trumps cards.   I thought it said Four Bums.)  The Man took him off round the more advanced gear.  We swapped boys and I chased Son 1 and he chased me.  I climbed and slid and scrambled and clambered.  “Animal Box time,” said Son 1, and at last I got a coffee.

After lunch we played again.  When it was time to move on I asked Son 2 “Would you like to go and see the birds and animals?” and he resolutely toddled off towards his Pram.  “There are owls and parrots and penguins and otters,” I said. “What would you like to see?” ”Raaaargggh,” he said.  Ah.  No lions here, Oh Dear.   We have had three misses in a row at the Penguin Pond.  Small children are allowed to feed the penguins.  Son 1 had a whole bucket of fish to himself one gloomy termtime afternoon when he was 2.  Recently however we’ve lucked out. First, we went in school holidays and there were too many children and Son 1 didn’t get picked.  Then they were cleaning the pool and not doing public feeding.  Then I muddled up the times, and we got there too late.  This time Son 1 got picked and excitedly took off his coat and got on with his task.  Except when I made him stop so I could take pictures.  Which was quite often.

Dances With Penguins

1.  Gardening

2.  Dancing

3.  Running

Son 2 aged 15m slept till 8am.  A record.  Which we expect to stand a while as Son 1 aged 4y 3m is back in Nursery tomorrow.  Oh and we’re back at work. So we have to get up early.  We went out in the garden… The Man in and out of his sheds, us clearing up leaves.  Son 2 played on the ridealong car.  Son 1 got the noughts and crosses out.  He lay across squares to stop me putting my noughts on them… and then he ran off with all my pieces.   I took lots of pictures of the boys, and may have got one or two half decent ones.  We are rubbish at pictures.  There is still not a single picture of Son 2 up in the house.  And the pictures of Son 1 stop when he’s about 2, when we bought a digital camera.  New Year’s resolution.  I will make an effort and get some printed.   

After lunch we walked to the Discount Store at the other end of The Town.  Son 1 pestered for a Ben 10 annual. I said “no,” he melted down, I removed him from the shop.  We trudged back, him Very Unhappy Indeed.  In Tesco, Happy Feet was cheap, so I bought that and we watched it when we got back.  I went down to the kitchen with Son 2 to make a stir fry… after a bit The Man came down to fry some chicken.  From upstairs came the sound of an elephant stomping.  The ceiling shook and the plates rattled.  “What was that?” asked The Man.  “I think you’ll find it was a penguin practising his tap dance,” I said.  At bathtime we asked Son 1 if he’d been dancing like the penguin.  “Yes!” he said, casting off his towel. ”I’ll show you!”  We suggested he wait till tomorrow so he didn’t get Son 2 over-excited.

The wind has changed.  Definitely a Good Thing.  We ‘re usually pretty weather-proof and Do Outdoor Stuff in a hardy, British way through rain, hail or storm.  But the Easterly has beaten us back inside all week.  I went for a run and it was Northerly.  Still cold, but crisp and fun, instead of downright unpleasant.  Oddly, the wind is no longer blowing from the East, and Wonder Nanny will be back tomorrow.  She was supposed to be on holiday, but she was probably riding ponies through pavements somewhere.

Astrophysics

1.  Energy = Mass Times The Speed Of Light Squared

2.  Bonded Particles

3.  Planetary Movements

I have been awake forever.  Bring chocolate.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m arrived in the Big Bed at 2am.  He woke me at 4am, and I couldn’t get back to sleep.  I tiptoed in to Son 2 aged 15m’s room and got into bed.  He stayed asleep, I stayed awake. I  went downstairs at 0520.  Put some washing on, hung some washing out.  Emptied dishwasher.  Made sandwiches.  Drank coffee.  Had breakfast.  Read Sunday Times.  Made snack box for Son 1 after Nursery.  So easy this work and child-rearing thing. Just skip the sleep and the rest falls into place.

Two penguin dances this morning.  Son 1’s was in the bathroom, trying to distract Son 2 so he’d let me put a nappy on.  If a tuning fork lifted its prongs up one at a time, very fast, it would look a bit like Son 1’s rigid-legged, madly-paced tap dance.  And then Son 2, in his usual skewwhiff-didn’t-catch-me nappy, copied.  Laughing, staring up at Son 1 with his “you’re fantastic” look on.  Holding hands, bumping over.  One sight of me approaching with a baby vest and off he zoomed towards the stair gate.

It was just about light when I parked the car to pick Son 1 up.  Two weeks past the solstice and already I can just about tell that the days are getting longer again.  Good Thing.  Spring is on the way, hooray.  The Man and I have worked out why it’s so cold.  It’s Winter.  Son 1 and I headed home in the gloom, a bright, low light in the sky which I assume was Venus.  In the old days I’d know.  We were late, surprise surprise, way past Wonder Nanny’s home time.  But there she was just leaving as we parked the car.  Instantly I mentally blamed The Man – he’s back late, she’s had to wait – but no, she’d been hanging on to see Son 1 because she’s missed him.  Son 2 giggled, pleased to see me, but then exploded into his biggest, loudest, longest tantrum yet.  Being positive, there are probably now several small Universes in existence that weren’t there before.  Pang pang pang.  He was so tired, and he was so pleased to see us, and he just lost it and was overwhelmed with crashing emotions.  I put him in the bath and ran the shower and we got him back in the end.

Twelfth Night

1.    Three In A Bed

2.    Teddy Goes To Lapland

3.    Bracing

MUMMEEEEEEE DADDDEEEE I DID A POOOOOOO……  6am. I catapulted down the stairs because if I can just stop the shouting soon enough then Son 2 aged 15m will stay asleeWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m was sitting up on his bed in the dark, bewildered, sobbing, and clean and dry.  “Just lie down quietly and I’ll get Son 2,” I whispered.  “NOOOOOOOO. Don’t GOOOOO.”  I picked up Son 2, brought him into Son 1’s room and and plopped him down in the bed.  Son 1 on one side.  Me on the other.  Son 2 snuggled me.  Son 1 cuddled Son 2 and Son 2 let him.  Cherubim and Seraphim bugled away in the Heavens. Son 2 has never lay down in a bed next to Son 1, even though Son 1 has been desperate to have him as his teddy.  I dozed.  We must have been there well over half an hour.  Then a thin little arm snaked over Son 2 so fingers could stroke my eyebrows.  Son 2 tried to get rid of the arm and wailed.  Son 1 wailed: “I like doing that.”  We got up.

I came back from The Office to the sound from the kitchen of Son 2’s liquid laughter and Son 1 chortling, chuckling and squealing.    The Man had taken the paper chains down, and the children were pulling them to pieces, running up and down with bits, and, in Son 2’s case, eating them.  Son 1 ran around, giggling, Son 2 waddled, wide-legged, delighted, and refusing to stop for The Biggest Hug Of The Day.  The Man started dismantling the Christmas Tree.  Son 1 was fine while he could play with the decorations, but as he realised everything was going away was desolate: “It’s a stupid idea.” We read the Christmas books for the last time, and he fell asleep during Teddy Goes To Lapland.

In my Running Years I felt lazy if I’d only exercised 4 times a week, and ran 12 miles every Saturday just to “keep my fitness up.”  I also spent four months  working – and compulsively running – in dark and chilly parts.  And yet I have never, never been as cold on a run as I was tonight.  Frost was already on the cars and the pavements glinted.   My calves felt like knitting needles had been stuck through them, and my toes hurt.  Usually there are four or five people out walking dogs in the evening when I run.  None tonight.  The only other person I saw was a Proper Runner, the smack of their feet on the pavement sounding long before they passed me.  Dressed in a woolly hat, thick woolly tracksuit top and thick woolly tracksuit bottoms.  I was in a long sleeved tee shirt, running tights and rainproof gilet.  Spot the difference.

Cannons And Coins

1.  Photos

2.  Parties

3.  Play

A party invitation today at the New Play Centre.  We tried it last Wednesday.  It didn’t make The Blog because only Good Things get in.  Fluid start time, morning sunlight in our East-facing house, so I put the boys in their Santa suits to take some pictures.  They were playing with the Treasure Chest, which I’d filled with chocolate coins on Christmas Eve.  Son 1aged 4y 3m hadn’t been near it because the Christmas Tree was in the way.  The Tree’s now gone, the Treasure Chest came out and Son 1 Couldn’t Believe His Eyes.  Or his luck.  “Can I eat them?” “If I get some nice pictures.”  He tried, he really tried.  I possibly got a couple of good ones… although the hats didn’t stay on.  And neither did Son 1’s belt.  But Son 2 aged 15m could have cuted for Britain.  That’s it now for his Santa suit.  Pang.

Last week the New Play Centre was crowded, chaotic, understaffed, with greasy spoon food (ONLY FOOD PURCHASED HERE MAY BE CONSUMED ON THE PREMISES) served after ridiculous waits.  Marked with my Never Again biro.  But a close friend is 3, so I said nothing, packed raisins, rice cakes and a large pack of Useby Jan 7 cocktail sausages, and along we toddled.  It was fine this time round, and I’m glad we went back because both Son 1 and Son 2 had such a brilliant time.  Their rope walk is a bit wider than The Bird Park’s… and Son 2’s absolute determination to get across it on his own was fantastic.  All He Cared About In The World.  We were five small boys and a little girl.  We all played in the baby area, we played with cannons firing foam balls, we played on the slides and ball pool, we climbed up, round, under and along.  We ate cake and the sausages were wolfed.

Son 2 was floppy with fatigue.  In the car, I told Son 1 that we couldn’t go to a Wednesday Friend’s house because we were all too tired.  Protest.  All right.  We would go for a Cup Of Tea. “And a little play?”  We went for a cup of tea and we were there two hours.  Son 1 disappeared with his friend and friend’s younger brother.  Another mother arrived with a seven month old girl.  Son 2 was asleep in the Big Pram, but the boys soon woke him up, and he tottered up and down the kitchen raiding the fruit bowl.   Back home I took more photos.  Son 1 posed hard.  I gave him a chocolate coin.  In the bedroom he put his arms round me and said “Thank you Mummy for my lovely day.”  I told The Man about it, fondly.  He didn’t look up from the telly.  “And who do you think put him up to saying that?”

Running Round

1.  Departure point

2.  The Arrival

3.  Destination

I had an Office meeting out in the woolly wilds.  To get there I had to drive through the Village where The Man and I used to live, and round shady country lanes, still icy in the sunlight, leaveless trees silhouetted against the blue sky, rolling fields glowing in the sunshine… All my old running routes.  i ran those roads so often, in so many kinds of weather, that I could almost reach straight back to a morning like today, when only the sound of my feet on the tarmac and a bit of birdsong broke the silence, when I felt cold and warm, alive and envigorated.  An almost senseless network of roads forking, joining, looping and twisting, which I learned by just running along on sunny mornings and choosing left or right randomly.  

A friend living near the venue for the Meeting has just had a 9lb little boy.  The Man and I sorted out baby toys last night.  Pang.  So I stopped off with cards and presents for him and his two brothers. He was gorgeous.  11 days old, soft, floppy, a thatch of black hair, heavenly little hands, a tiny gummy mouth and a little blobby nose.  Used to Son 2 aged 15m’s rigid, solid form, I picked up the newborn and nearly caber-tossed him at the ceiling.  How are they ever that small?  He was lovely, he slept all the time, and my friend is indeed a Very Clever Girl.  At the point where his eldest brother offered me a game of Power Ranger Top Trumps, I left for my meeting.

The plan was, I would get out of The Office a bit early, collect Son 1 aged 4y 3m, go shopping with him in Tesco and solve the problem that at home, there was no food, washing powder, loo rolls or cleaning stuff.  Plans, schmans.  I got out of The Office a Bit Late, picked up Son 1 a Bit Late, got to Tesco Very Late, and then had a bored, tired, hungry and grumpy 4 year old to tow round while I did a mega-shop.  He got: jelly tots, character pasta, a marked-down Christmas biscuit icing kit, a black forest gateau and a box of ice lollies.  He did not get: a Ben 10 top, a Ben 10 chocolate egg (Yup, they’ve put them out already) a comic, a toy or a box of cream cakes.  I’m putting that down as a score draw.  We were back so late that The Man was trying to get Son 2 down for the night.  So we sabotaged that effort.  Son 1 said Goodnight to Son 2.  Son 2 let himself be cuddled, snugged, and let Son 1 stroke his cheek.  “I love you, Son 2, you’re so handsome,” said Son 1.

Pastimes

1.  Cookery

2.  Photography

3.  A Walk In The Park

Yesterday’s Tesco run included a marked-down 74p Christmas biscuit decoration set.  From the first, Son 1 aged 4y 3m wanted only to Ice The Biscuits.  “After breakfast,” I said.  He ate three bites of pancakes and declared breakfast over.  Originally we thought we’d do it when Son 2 aged 15m was having his nap.  But Son 1 couldn’t wait that long.  So we had one big boy in a Thomas apron, and a baby in a highchair, both with biscuits on plates in front of them.  Son 1 took the red icing squirter and made a start on Santa.  Son 2 watched him carefully, and then took an idle bite of his Christmas Pudding.   We squirted green on together.  We gave Son 2 a Rudolf.  Son 1 scattered white sugar stars three-deep over his biscuits.  I turned back to Son 2. He’d bitten a hole in Rudolf.  And a blank Christmas Tree.  We iced.  We scattered.  Son 1 devoured a Christmas Tree.  Son 2 licked all the squirty icing off the Christmas Pudding.  Son 1 watched him.  And then licked all the squirty icing off his Rudolf.

I put two chairs together in the corner of the kitchen to make a little raised playpen for Son 2 while I’m getting food.  He stands on the seat of one, opens the cutlery drawer and plays with the baby spoons and forks.  And the vegetable peeler.  I made lunch.  Son 1 arrived, demanding to know how to use our digital camera.  I showed him.  We now have about 40 pictures of Bag-of-Flour-on-Worktop, Mummy’s-Leg Cupboard-Front,  Kitchen-Floor.  Son 1 thought it was fantastic. 

Son 2 only napped for about 30 minutes in the morning, and was dropping with exhaustion after lunch.  So I thought I’d take both boys out, give The Man a break,  push The Pram till Son 2 slept  and then come back and let Son 1 watch some telly.  We pushed The Pram to The Park.  Son 1 shinnied up the slide ladder.  Son 2 clamoured to be let out.  He went on the slide, he went on the swings, laughing and chortling.  After a very good half hour, I put Son 2 back in The Pram and off we went to the shops.  He stayed awake.  Son 1 was asking to ride on The Pram.  In M and S, they were both crying for food and whining with fatigue.  I rang The Man.  Son 1 rode home on his shoulders.  Son 2 stayed awake the whole time.

Tarry A While, Said Slow

1.  Ding Dong Bell

2.  Humpty Dumpty

3.  And Jill Came Tumbling After

We went out to a Fondue Dinner last night.  Friends, and Friends of Friends.  A very nice time.  Too much wine.  Back at 0130.  Son 2 aged 16m woke us up at 6am with his skull-splitting, ear-piercing, only-mummy-will-do shrieking.    It was Very Hard.  I took both boys downstairs and got drinks and snack tubs, got everything back upstairs again, and told The Man that as he’d just had 25 minutes’ lying in, I was going back to bed.  I got in Son 1 aged 4y 3m’s bed, and just drowsed.  The Man brought Son 2 down to me at about twenty to nine.  That hour and a quarter extra in bed was A Very Good Thing Indeed.

i took Son 2 to Baby and Toddler swimming, and he loved it.  We bounced, we played Humpty Dumpty, he walked in the pool a bit, he wore his armbands, he swam with me a bit, he floated on his own for a few seconds.  He looked and looked at the other children, lifeguards, safety equipment, marks on the wall – there was nothing he didn’t stare at.  He fell asleep in the car and then slept in his cot for two hours.  He had a great time, but I don’t know that I’ve done him any good.  He had a cold, and he’s really not very well at all tonight.  I took him because I knew it would give him a deep sleep afterwards, I knew he was already tired and I don’t know how else to get him to wind down.  He does have long sleeps with Wonder Nanny, but it’s as if when we’re around it’s just “Mummy and Daddy are here so I’ll stay up, thanks.”

I took Son 1 up to the pool while Son 2 was sleeping. His Wednesday Friend was there, so he was happy.  He wanted to play a game I need goggles for, so I went to the locker and took them out of the bag.  When I got back he was being swept round the pool on his surfboard by the River Run.  I went round with him and he pushed me away “I’m doing it on my OWN.”  After our friends left, we went on the Flume.  Together about 5 times, and then, without warning, instead of waiting for me to sit down and then climbing into my lap, he sat on the hotseat himself and looked up expectantly at the Lifeguard.  A nod, he pushed himself off, and That Was It.  Son 1 goes down the Flume on his own.  7 times or more.  I slid down alone after him.   Pang.

Straight On Till Morning

1.  An Awfully Small Adventure 

2.  Lost Boys

3.  The Mermaid Lagoon

I have been on an Adventure.  My first visit to The Teeming Metropolis since before Son 1aged 4y 3m was born.  I drove up after bedtime on Monday, SatNav clipped to windscreen.  Heading for Holiday Inn in Commuter Town.  Arrival 0007.  Up at 7am, phone call to the boys, in on the train.  I commuted 26 years ago.  Then the trains were full of creepy old blokes who wouldn’t leave me alone.  This train was row upon row of gorgeous young men… chiselled cheekbones, pressed shirts, floppy fringes, brilliant teeth.  Maybe I haven’t turned into a Harry Enfield character.  Billions have been spent on male grooming since 1982.   A meeting for The Office.  Then back to the Commuter Town to pick up the car.  The train in front of the train in front has broken down we have to wait/driver change ends/go back/driver change ends again/train change routes. A nice man from The Train asked if I’d like to sit in First Class because I didn’t have a seat.  Oh all right then.  Can’t think why all those people make all that fuss.  I can recommend the Railways to anyone.  Back here at half past twelve this morning. 

It was my first night away from Son 2 aged 16m.  I didn’t spent a night away from Son 1 till the two nights I had in hospital when Son 2 was born.  And then last year, two nights without him.  First when Son 2 fell out of his pram like a little Lost Boy and hit his head, second when he had gastroenteritis in July.   ”Pleeeeeeeeze don’t go,” whimpered Son 1 on Monday night, his arms snaked round my neck.    I spent most of my time in The TM thinking “Son 1 would love this.”   He pestered me for a present through a nappy-wrestle this morning when Son 2 woke us all up at 0630.  A plastic Wild Mutt toy appeared to cure the psychological damage.

Son 2 is too young to be left.  It’s played havoc with my hormones.  I don’t watch telly, – I love it, i just never get time -  but tonight The Man was channel-flicking, and there was a beautiful shot of elephants round a water hole.  Before another seven channels flashed up.  “Put the baby elephant back on,”  I said.  “I want to watch Coyote Ugly.”  “Put the baby elephant back on.” “But it’s my favourite.  They’re all going to dance half-naked on the bar in a minute.”  “PUT THE BABY ELEPHANT BACK ON.”  She was called Breeze, and she was two days old, and she played in the mud in the waterhole.  On Monday Son 2 was in the bath with me.  I left him in it while I got out, and was dressing when I heard “Ah Ma,” which means “I want you.” I turned round, and he was standing up and holding out his fists,  which were each squodging fat handfuls of poo.

We Just Want To Bounce

1.  Lost And Found

2.  Delicious

3.  Two Little Monkeys Bouncing On The Bed

Very Tired Indeed.   Grumped out of bed this morning, cold-ridden, knackered, children chatting with The Man downstairs.  Ran tap, put contact lenses in.  Pulled out plug.  Shut one eye.  Opened it.  Shut the other eye.   Opened it.  Something not right.  One lens missing.  I checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, my nightie, the floor.  I froze.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m called me.  “Get Daddy,” I called back.  “He’s downstairs!” “Tell him I need him!”  The Man tramped up, grumpling.  He’d left Son 2 aged 16m in the kitchen, on his own,  three flights down.  He tramped down again.  And tramped up again,  grumbling loudly, carrying Son 2.  He checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, me, the floor.  He took the sink to bits.  I was still motionless.  No spares. How-much-are-contact-lenses/how-long-will-a-new-one-take/when-the-hell-will-I-be-able-to-get-a-new-one/how-will-I-see/how-will-I-work/how-will-I-drive.  “Found it!” chirped Son 1 cheerfully, diving into the corner.   By George he’d Got It.  He wins a Scooby Do Pirate Dvd.  I clapped him.  And dropped the lens again.  The Man grumbled murderously.

A late afternoon appointment in The Town, so I picked Son 1 up early-ish.  The children  were watching Tom and Jerry. When we went to get his coat there was a basin of apple chunks, and lots of little plastic plates and beakers arranged round tables.  “Were you about to have a snack?” “Yes.  A biscuit.”  “Why don’t you ask if you can have one in the car?” “You ask.”  I did.  The Assistant then produced a large plate of fairy cakes, topped with more icing than cake.  Son 1 helped himself.  In the car he told me about his snacks.  “We have banana and orange and apple and sometimes for a special treat mango. ” A pause.  ”This cake is delicious.”

At home Son 2 ignored me for the first 10 minutes and then wouldn’t let me go.  He was exhausted, so I sat him on the bed and started his books.  Son 1 came and bounced on the bed.   “You can be with us if you sit still and keep quiet.”  He sat quietly next to us.  Son 2 climbed over me and plopped his head between the pillows.  Then he lay on top of Son 1.  Son 1 giggled.  He piled pillows on  top of Son 2.  Son 2 giggled.  End of reading.  Cuddling, squashing, laughing, pushing.  Son 2 stood up and bounced.  Uncontrolled delight from Son 1.  He was carried off to the bath by The Man.  Son 2 carried on bouncing.  He wouldn’t go back to his books, and wriggled off to the bathroom. A cry rang out from Son 1: “We just want to bounce!”

Kindly Brightness

1.  Goat Bait

2.  Candlemass

3.  Brothers In Arms

The Man left at 3am on a Business Trip, so we collected Nanna and headed for The Bird Park.  Son 2 aged 16m couldn’t get into the Baby Area fast enough.  Ball Pool.  Jet Bits.  Sitting over one of the holes so the remaining air streams blew even stronger.  The thin, four-inch wisps of his anyhow pre-haircut fringe blown up vertical.   He waved at Nanna. “Eh-yo.”  He concentrated as he threw balls overboard.  He got down.  We crawled up and around.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m was cross.  Growling.  Clawing his hands.  Pushing me away.  He wanted his Best Friend.  Only his Best Friend understands his game.  I tried to get us all playing together and might have succeeded at times.  He had a great time when Son 2 was sitting on the jets and throwing balls down at him.  He liked it when we followed him over the Big Children’s Stuff.  Son 2 slithered on his stomach and went down the baby slide on his own.  He learned to go down steps the same way today.  We went to see the otters and the owls.  Son 2 was in his reins – he loves walking, we’re hoping that having him in them early will mean he accepts them later.  When we know we’ll need them.  We looked at the Guinea Pigs.  £12 each.  Son 1 and I looked at each other.  If they’d sold hutches we’d’ve taken two.  We fed the goats, Son 2 managing to hold the food so the goats licked it from his hands, giggling his head every time their tongues shot out over his fingers.  The goats were standing in a quagmire, and everytime they leapt up their hooves spattered us.  Slathered in mud and goat spit, we washed our hands and made for the penguins.

We went early (for us) because it was the Family Tea Service at The Church and I felt we should go.  Son 2 didn’t wake up between car, house and street, and stayed asleep till we were at the bottom of the church steps.   Son 1 was exhausted, but will fortunately do anything if promised a comic, so trudged down like a trooper.  Numbers were few.  The theme was “light.”  The student priest put everyone under a tablecloth to show how Dark Things Were When God Forsook.  “And then Simeon saw a little baby just like this one (Son 2, possibly about 15 months too old for the role), and said ‘here is the light that will save the world.’”   We went back to our pews.  “Is Son 2 Jesus?” asked Son 1.  We sang “Shine Jesus Shine,” the words on a screen at the front.  My eyes are dim, the light was poor.  I so liked the idea of Kindly Brightness that I googled “Shine Jesus Shine, lyrics” when I got back.  Ah.

And then they provided tea.  Vegetable Bake, sausages, pizza, squash and cake.  Brilliant.  We zigzagged home across the main street – closed to traffic while they dig it up, Son 1 liked leading us from one side to the other.  We bought a Shaun The Sheep comic.  It was late and we were all whacked.  The boys went in the bath.  I insisted on washing their hair to remove goat saliva and hoof flecks.  I washed Son 2’s. Then I washed Son 1’s, singing him his lullaby to keep him calm.  Seeing him lying back on Mummy’s arm, being sung to, destroyed Son 2.  He cried, stood up, grabbed the arm holding Son 1 and sat his little bare bottom down on Son 1’s face, sinking him under the water. Then he stamped his foot on his ear and slid off.

Nessun Dorma

1.  Overture

2.  La Donna E Mobile

3.  Finale

A little crittur aged 4y 3m slid into the Big Bed at an Ungodly Hour.  Thin snakey arms around my neck, bony body snugged into mine, fingers eventually falling away from my eyebrows and eyelashes.  He was in a coma.  I wasn’t.  The alarm went at 6.  I reached over him and switched it off, and then the fingers got going again.  I’ll wait till he goes back to sleep, I thought, and then get up and get drinks and snacks.   I lay still and silent till a stage whisper enquired “Mummy are we getting up yet?”   

The day of my Heart Scan. The Man is still away.  So I had to wait for Wonder Nanny, zoom to the Doctor’s to pick up the letter for the cardio people, and then head out to The Hospital in the Big Town.  Yet again, I was late leaving.  But I was ok.  If the roads were all clear, if there was somewhere to park, if I’d worn different shoes so that I could stride across the car park rather than totter.  I got to a Roundabout two miles out.  Something Was Up.  Stationary traffic, cars doing U-turns, nothing coming the other way.    I can get in the queue, I thought, and cut cross country.  I moved 20 yards in 5 minutes.  I’ll have to ring and tell them I’m stuck.  So.  Still parked,  I opened the doctor’s letter.  The appointment was back in The Town.  At the surgery next door to ours.  Ah.   I reversed and drove back.  “I work in the community,” said the physiologist.  “I’m cheaper than The Hospital, even with the cost of the consultant.  People had to wait eighteen months for this before the PCT started using me.”  She is a Good Thing.  My heart is fine, thank you for asking.  Another Good Thing.

The time at the Heart Scan made me late to The Office, and Very Late Indeed getting away.  Poor Wonder Nanny bathed the boys and was trying to keep them awake so I’d see them when I got back.  Son 2 aged 16m was grizzling and tantruming… Son 1 was just lying down with his eyes closed on the middle of the bed in Son 2’s room.  I am slowly cutting down on the time it takes to get Son 2 to sleep.  He has his lullaby, three rounds of “Summertime,” 5 counts down from 100 and then a “night night darling, I’m just going to say night night to Son 1 and then I’ll come back.”  WAAAAAAAH.  Three nights in a row now, although he is only crying for about five minutes before he drops off.   It makes me sick inside, but as the songs and counts take place when I’m bending into the cot with my head next to his, I do think it is A Good Thing that we’re trying.

The Princess And The Fairy

1.  The Flight

2.  The Pirate Ship

3.  Do You Believe In Fairies? 

The Man is not coming back today.  “The aeroplanes are full,” as I told Son 1 aged 4yr 3m this morning.  Howl.  “I want his body!” Wail. ”I want his T-shirt!” Curl up on the floor.  At that moment, The Man rang.  Son 1 gave him both barrells, fired straight at the guilto-plexus. Until Son 2 aged 16m snatched the phone from him, and waddled back and forth, chattering gibberish while Son 1 ululated in the corner.  Son 1’s day bumped along the bottom.  His Best Friend couldn’t come round because his Mother is ill.  Howl. Wail.  Curl.  His longed-for Scooby Do and the Pirates DVD didn’t come, despite a Royal Mail van parking outside and my calling “Son 1! Your parcel’s here!”  The driver smoked a fag, picked up a postman in the rain and pulled away.  Howl. Wail. Curl.

On The Bright Side.  A little 3 year old Friend and his Mother came round, and the boys played.   The Captain Hook Ship and The Lost Boys’ Raft stayed out – they can’t survive the wildebeest stampede that is 5 small boys at play… but three is manageable, so I didn’t hide them.    After they left Son 2 had a nap and a colleague from The Office came round, bringing biscuits and a chocolate cake for Son 1.  The colleague wanted to see the new dress and shoes I bought in The Sales.  I left her with Son 1, dashed to the bedroom, dressed up and tottered down in my finery.  The colleague coo-ed.  Son 1 sprang from his chair and gave me a huge hug.  “Do I look like a Princess?” I asked.  He just laughed.  But he made me feel like one.

Nanna came.  Son 2 played with the electric James and Percy engines.  Son 1 lay on the window seat  spearing a Tinkerbell finger puppet with 2 Woolies Ghost Pirates.  Nanna parked close to the house. I’ve been thanking the Parking Fairy when I get a space near.   “Is the Parking Fairy real?” asked Son 1.  “No,” I said. “It’s just Mummy’s bit of fun.”  Although, oddly, since I’ve been thanking the Parking Fairy, I’ve been able to park a lot closer to the house.  I was telling Nanna this when Son 1said “I don’t believe in fairies.”  “Oh no!” I said.  “Quick, clap.  Otherwise a fairy will…”  Son 1 made a spiral motion with his finger and pointed to the floor.  We clapped.  Son 2 joined in. Son 1 lay on his back giggling.  “I don’t believe in fairies”  Mad clapping, mad laughing.  “I don’t believe in fairies.” Mad clapping. Mad laughing.  Repeated many times.  Until: “Son 1 will you pack it in. What am I going to do if the fairy who – ” spiral motion, point to the floor ” – is the Parking Fairy?”

Tiddler

1.  Babyschool

2.  Message From A Blog Reader

3.  The Comeback

Son 2 aged 16m sat through the whole of Tiddler.  He has a fish-thing anyway, opening and closing his mouth as a baby sign whenever he sees one.   He is an entry level Julia and Axel fan – he likes Monkey Puzzle, which I always feel is a good tale for the child of a Working Mother.  Although in our house it was sabotaged somewhat when I read out “Mummy doesn’t have great big saggy knees,” and The Man walked briskly by and said “Oh yes she does.”  He likes The Gruffalo.  But until today we hadn’t got much further.    This morning though he was glued to it.  The only disruption came from Son 1 aged 4y 4m who came down from watching telly upstairs and said: “She didn’t write it down for Son 2, she wrote it down for ME.”  And then Son 2 picked it again this evening out of a pile on the bed.

While I was at The Office I had a text from The Man:  ”Glad to read the heart scan was ok.”  “Thanks for asking,” I texted back.

When I got back, Son 1 was insistent.  “Don’t put me to bed before 8 o’clock.”  The Man had rung and said he’d be back then.  Son 2 had been swimming with Wonder Nanny.    I put him down to bed.   Little fat arms round my neck, pulling my face close to his.   On his cot pillow.  Jaysus that child can cry.  He screeched and shrieked and sobbed.  And this was before I left him.  I am still doing my lullaby/three rounds of Summertime, five counts down from 100 and then Nighty Night thing.  And he is still doing his ATOMIC SCREAMING.  The Man came back.  And Son 1 smiled and cuddled and cuddled and smiled.  Happiness all over his face.

Signs Of Spring

1.  Brown Silk

2.  Green Shoots

3.  A New Best Friend

My Wise And Wonderful Friend and I discussed fashion, weight, shoes, Work Clothes and designer vs High Street last night, as she Sat-Navved her way around a motorway closure.  Inspired, this morning I got out a lovely size-14 dress and jacket combo which I haven’t worn since Son 2 aged 16m came along.  And lo.  I was in. Before, it skimmed and fell and hung.  Now, it clings and creases and strains.  But with the jacket done up, and enough care getting in and out of cars I can get away with it.  And of course my personal stylist, aged 4y 4m,  approved:  “You look like a Princess.” 

Dropping Son 1 off at Nursery, we parked along the Muddy Path.  Son 1 now has to tiptoe around the sprouting daffodils… at some points he can barely get his little boy feet in the gaps between clumps.  Some have flower buds… some are six inches tall.  Among the leaves vivid green primroses are pushing through.  And little self-seeded camellia bushes have tight knobby buds.  The suit was for a meeting in The City, two hours’ drive away.  The sunshine was so bright I had to root round for my sunglasses as I drove.  I can’t remember the last time I wore them.  Blue sky all the way.  A fantastic morning.  Coming back the sun was so bright and low in the sky I couldn’t actually… er… see very much.  And still light at 1730.     

A Greek Night in a local bar.  Some friends had taken a couple of tables and invited us.  We were late.  (Late home, late bedtime, late out of the house…)  On arrival, the tables were settled, and we were at the end, next to a Business Contact of The Man’s, and a middle-aged couple who we didn’t know.  On the other side of them, the receptionist of a Business The Man uses… and then two Good Friends.  We ate and drank and talked.  I told my neighbour about Son 1 and Son 2 and then asked about her children.  Grown, she said.  A daughter  getting married in the Spring; a son, younger, in the Autumn.  The ages clicked.  The accent clicked.  The Man clicked too and leapt into the conversation: “I think this might be – ” “Are you Wonder Nanny’s In-laws-to-be?”  I asked.  She was at home baby-sitting.  Son 2 had been at my neighbour’s house that afternoon.  She thinks he’s lovely, and she loves his name.  The Town is Very Small Indeed.

Boy Friends

1.  Extra Boy

2.  Mummy’s Boy

3.  Best Friends

A Friend was up for An Outing. First suggestion too expensive, second suggestion they’d already done.  Son 1 butted into all the discussions and phone calls.  He wanted to go to the New Play Centre.  I pretended not to hear. (Can’t stand it.)  The Mother of Son 1 aged 4y 4m’s Best Friend rang.  Best Friend had been whinging all morning, driving them mad.  He wanted to see Son 1.  What were we up to?  Could she bring him round and then she’ll have Son 1 overnight next weekend?  The New Play Centre it was.   Son 1 and the other Little Friend played together, Son 2 played in the baby area, the Ball Pool and the Toddler Section.  He rocked and pulled off and climbed and threw and slid and rode.  The Man talked Boats with Little Friend’s father.  Best Friend arrived.  Play. Lunch. Play.

Best Friend came back to the house, and hooray hooray, Son 1’s new Scooby Doo DVD had arrived.  That was them sorted.  I put Son 2 to bed.  Nappy change, in his sleeping bag, and then I put him in his cot. “I’m just going to do the window, and then I’ll come back and Son 2 and Mummy will have a sleep on the bed.”  For the first time he sat burbling instead of screaming as I pulled down the blind and put the blanket up. (Stuffed along the top of the roller and draped down the sides.  Son 2 does not sleep if there is Any Light At All.)  We snugged down together on the bed.  He hugged and held and scrunched his fists in my hair… and pressed his head against my cheek and clung.  And he’s lovely and cuddly, and we miss each other and I’ve decided.  When I’m off, he goes to sleep in the daytime by lying next to me.

Son 1 and Best Friend were having an elaborate game involving the Scooby Doo monsters, the Scooby Friends, all Son 1’s pirates, Captain Hook’s ship, the Lost Boys raft, the Woollies Pirate ship, the Tower of Doom and the ELC monsters.  Captain Hook was sitting in the front of the Mystery Machine with Shaggy and Scooby.   The DVD finished and the pirates paraded around the house.  They were warned off upstairs, but a jam on the toy keyboard woke Son 2.  I took him in the lounge and they melted away to Son 1’s bedroom.  Best Friend’s Mother came to collect him. I heard her ask Son 1: “Would you like to come and stay with Best Friend next weekend?”  “Will Mummy and Daddy be there?”  he replied.  Bit of work to do on that one, then.  At bedtime, when I left Son 2 in his cot, he screamed Blue Murder.

Invincible Lords Of Nature

1.   Storm

2.   Calm

3.   Seeds

Howls from Son 1 aged 4 y 4m when he plomped downstairs after two hours telly watching, found his Scooby Doo and the Pirates DVD and I said he couldn’t watch it.  “I can’t wait till this afternoon.”  “You can’t watch any more telly. You’ve watched cartoons all morning.”  Red face. Real tears.  “Forgive me Mummy.” “Darling you haven’t done anything.  I just don’t want you to watch any more telly.”  “If you let me watch it I’ll give you fifty pounds for your birthday.”  “Come and sit on my knee.  Son 2 (aged 16m) is very tired and he’ll need his nap this morning.  You can watch Scooby Doo when he’s asleep, and we’ll go out this afternoon instead.”   He composed himself.  I whispered.  “Go and tell Daddy he’s got to give you fifty pounds to give me.”  Son 1 padded over and whispered to The Man.  I held out my hand.

Another snug with Son 2 on the Big Bed to get him to sleep.  Little arms around my neck.  Soft hair, soft skin.  A friend ages ago said that lying down with a sleeping child is one of life’s great luxuries.  Son 1 watched Scooby with The Man, and I went for a run.   A bright, crisp, still morning with doves coo-cooing and sparrows twittering. I was in shorts.  Can’t remember the last time I was out running in daylight, or out running in shorts.  Down to the bridge over the river.  I did my stretches in the kitchen, with Son 1first trying to give me a cuddle and then lying on top of me when I was on my back.   From upstairs came a wail from Son 2.

We were blowing bubbles.  A consolation for Son 2 after an unfortunate incident in which someone screwed his finger into to the top of a toddler bottle, panicked when he screamed in obvious agony, couldn’t work out which way to twist the lid… and just yanked the finger out.  Deep groove in it.  Ahem.  Bubbles.  Son 2 chortled with joy, leapt up, clutched at them, laughed, clapped, giggled, and, finally, came to take the blower to see how it worked.  We were heading into The Town, so we mopped the floor before we went.  A friend walked past with his two girls.   We all met for lunch.  On the way back Son 1 stung us for some Gormitis:  “They have a Terrible Nature.”  Magmion is the Volcano King, smashing and trashing Hapless Peoples.  Delos is the Count of the Seas.  “And Stelios is the King Of The Air,” I told Son 1, who was sitting on The Man’s shoulders as we walked home.   Son 1 has gone straight from the ecologically, politically, ethnically, culturally, representationally-correct cocoon that is CBeebies into a world of Ben 10, Power Rangers and now Gormitis.   What lucky creatures are the women of 2034…

Famous Fights

1.  First Flower

2.  Country Roads

3.  Night Nights

Son 1aged 4y 4m and I left for Nursery ten minutes earlier than usual.  He has had enough of The Pirate’s Hat And Other Stories… he has had enough of Horrid Henry.  So this morning it was the Famous Five and Treasure Island, free with a paper some time ago.  Son 1 calls it the Famous Fights.  “I wish I was called Georgina.  If I was called Georgina I will say everyone must call me George.”   He also wishes he had a boat, and an island.  And a dog of course.  We arrived in plenty of time, and so parked up the drive and walked down the Muddy Path.  And there, in among the sodden leaves, on a little clump of bright green foliage, was a single pale yellow primrose flower.  Spring Is Sprung.  

To make up for this morning, the roads were heaving this evening, so I decided to explore some back routes to get home.  Mistake.  Tiny, flooded, debris-strewn barely-maintained tracks switchbacking this way and that as the light faded.  We went for miles.  The Famous Five had found some Ingots in a dungeon on the Treasure Island.  A Baddy threatened to shoot Timmy the Dog.  We got back on the usual route and pulled round a group of three of four cars parked together at the side of the road, broken glass, crumpled bonnets, people milling.  Perhaps a Good Thing that we were a little later than them.

Son 2 aged 16m waved from the window as we pulled up outside the house (Thank You Parking Fairy.) He was on top form.  Laughing, squealing, insisting on being held and carried.  He mineswept Son 1’s leftover smoothie from the car, and ate nearly a whole satsuma from his picnic bag.  Son 1 refused tea but accepted a couple of pieces of fruit, and listened to the end of the Famous Five on a laptop upstairs.  Son 2 is still crying as soon as I say night night and leave him in his cot.  Son 1, who used to send The Man packing when I went to see him for his bedtime stories, now says “Oh Mummy, you’ve come at exactly the wrong time.”  He fell asleep during Fairy Child.

Poorliness

1.  Night And Day

2.  Every Time We Say Goodbye

3.  Too Darn Hot

Oh Man.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m had another rubbish night, burning up, sweating, red in the face, crying.  His ears are fine but he says his throat is sore.  Son 2 aged 16m has the same, raging temperature – measured only with hand-on-forehead… absolute “no” from him to thermometer-in-the-ear – and not knowing what to do with himself.  Overnight, both dosed with Ibuprofen, calpol and liquids.  Son 1 was off Nursery, which isn’t a logistical problem because we have Wonder Nanny.  But I had a jam-packed day at the Office and there was nothing I could do about it.  Two poorly little boys who just wanted their Mummy and off I went, knowing I would think of nothing else all day.

At 1230 a colleague came by.  “Your Mum rang. She wanted to know how the boys are.”  Hell fire. I hadn’t had a minute.  I rang Wonder Nanny.  Son 1 answered.  “How are you?” “Not all right.”  “How is Son 2?” “He’s asleep.”  Wonder Nanny had dosed them, kept them quiet and they seemed ok.  “I was just about to text you,” she said.  “I know you’d be worried.”  I didn’t have time to ring Nanna…

By the time I got back, Son 1 was in his pyjamas with his temperature raging again, and Son 2 was in his cot asleep.  I was bereft.  All I wanted to do was wake Son 2 so I could be with him.  I went upstairs to get changed, and he woke up.  I got him to sleep and went in to Son 1.  “My poorliness is back again.” Son 2 woke again.  He howled.  Son 1 came in with us.  i went down, The Man took over.  Nanna rang.  I still hadn’t called her back. The Man came down after an hour, and Son 2 started again.  He woke Son 1.  They both bayed, louder and louder, in a comical, horrible duet.  The Man went to be with Son 2 while I finished work (and quickly wrote this) and then I’ll sort out Son 1.  We’ll swap boys at bedtime.

Infants And Influenza

1.  Fatigue

2.  Fretting

3.  Fever

Went to bed, Son 1 aged 4y 4m woke up, plastered in sweat, pyjamas wringing, face bright red, temperature up on the ceiling.  I gave him ibuprofen, changed his pyjamas and put him upstairs in the Big Bed with The Man.  Then I went in with Son 2 aged 16m.  And I was up all night.  He sleeps very deeply when he finally sinks off… but when he’s in a light sleep he’s allbut ready to party.  At 3am I went downstairs for a cup of tea and a read of the paper.  Being positive, it was lovely holding his little relaxed body, snugging the fluffy baby hair on his head and holding his soft little hands.  I don’t know how long to wait before I take them to the doctor.  The fever makes me think it’s an infection… they’ve both got sore throats… but they both also seem very fluey when their temperatures are up..   Poor lambos.

Son 1 was off Nursery again today with Wonder Nanny.  He was watching telly in the Big Bed while I did my hair and make up, and then when I’d finished he’d fallen asleep.  I hate leaving them when they’re asleep – I usually wait till they wake, or wake them up.  But I left Son 1, in the hope he’d feel better for it.  I rang at 1130 and he was up, not feeling too bright but about to play pirates.

I left The Office early and came back to two brighter boys playing in the lounge.  Son 1 got his fire engine out, and then went for the Thomas Wooden Railway… Son 2 likes to play with the engines, and is just about leaving the track where it is instead of ripping it up.. I managed to take a couple of pictures.  It was good to see them, but I’m not on good form because I’ve had three disturbed nights in a row. By 5pm both boys were disintegrating with tiredness and with the bug.  Wonder Nanny dodged and dived through the tantrums and tension.  “Son 1 you’ve been so lovely all day for Wonder Nanny, why are you doing this now? It makes me wonder why I bothered to come back early from The Office. ”    “All children do it,” said Wonder Nanny.  Son 1 just howled.  We added calpol.

A Whole New World

1. Australia

2. Madagascar

3. Nether Lands

Discussion and debate this morning. Son 1 felt he was up to his sleepover.  We felt he needs to show he can stay in his bed and be quiet overnight before we can let him out after 10pm.  Plan B was his first ever cinema trip.  A child-free colleague from The Office phoned.  “We’ll be in the Big Town later,” I said. “We’re going to see Madagascar.” “What’s that?” “Like Australia. Only with cartoon animals”    “Oh.” “Australia the film?” “Yes I know what Australia is.  I just don’t do animation.”    Neither did I when I lived in BC World.

We took Best Friend to Madagascar.  Horrid Henry on the CD in the car on the way, for which his Mother will thank me later.  Expose them to reality in literature first.  I loved Madagascar.  I think they did too.    Towards the end Son 1 kept telling Best Friend to come with him to investigate something.  It was the aftermath of a vat of popcorn dropped on the floor by a child at the end of our row.  I just about managed to keep Son 1 from eating it.   We want to see Monsters and Aliens next.

Son 1 went to Best Friend’s to play, and The Man and Son 2 aged 16m were just heading into The Town when I got back.  We all trogged round Boots, M and S and Argos.  Son 2 asked to get out in Argos, and he walked happily in his reins, calling and cooing, chasing pigeons, fingering plants, pointing in windows, peering in shops.  He walked most of the way home.  Back in the kitchen he was playing beautifully with his ambulance.  I  joined him.  Even my barely-there sense of smell could tell his nappy was dirty, so he must have been stinking. “He needs a new nappy,” I said to The Man. “It’ s such a shame because he’s so into his game.”  Son 2 toddled off to the back of the house.  The changing mat lives between the buggy and the washing machine.  He brought it back into the kitchen and triumphantly put it on the floor.  When I’d done his nappy, he picked the dirty nappy bag up and plopped it out the back – just like I always do.    What a perfect child.

The Salsify Paradox

1.  On The Rocks

2.  Tell Tales

3.  Anchor Rope

We woke up to a wild wind. Down the chimney, against the windows, blasting in through the letter box.  I opened the blind in the Big Bedroom to see the tide at its highest, white horses rolling across the river, heaving waves crashing into the riverbank walls and spray punching up over the top.   Boats come off their moorings when it’s like this, I thought, my eyes following the path of the white horses.  And down below, by the dinghy park, was a little fishing boat getting smashed up on the rocks and jetty.   Son 1 aged 4y 4m and The Man came to watch.  Son 2 aged 16m could see over the bottom of the window by standing on my huge pile of ironing.  We considered Doing Something.  The Harbour Master doesn’t work on Sundays.  Coastguard?  “They won’t do anything till the tide goes out,” said The Man.  He and Son 1 settle down to watch telly.  Son 2 and I went downstairs to read.  A few books in and ”Here comes the rescue!” I cried, as a launch chugged in.  Up we all went again.  Son 2 was brilliant.  Straight for the ironing pile, pulling himself up with his two little fists gripping the sill… hanging on so he could see.  The Man wasn’t sure the launch should try it.  Depth/rocks/current/cold/wind issues.  But one man reversed it, the other popped a rope on the stern and they hauled it off, dented and holed, woodwork in shards, mast broken and its gear splayed out like mangled ice hockey goals.  From up top we could see the Inshore Lifeboat pelting across the river. “Someone must have called it in,” I said. “Nah, they train on Sundays,” said The Man.  The rib zoomed in but the launchmen gestured they didn’t need help, and off it went again.  The wind howled.  In the garden the shed roofing felt flapped like sheets on a washing line.

We needed a trip to the Discount Store to get stuff to mend the shed roof.  The boys played in the lounge while The Man got ready.  Son 1 was playing pirates, Son 2 was sitting in the window seat sorting out chokeable Peter Pan pieces.  I’ll have a look at the paper, I thought.  Sunday Times.  Front page.  Having more than 2 children destroys the planet.  Review section. All children are destined to be pyscho killers because parents workand are too selfish.  I put the paper away, and went to talk to Son 2.   If I stop getting The Sunday Times I can have an extra two trips to the hairdresser a year.   

Freezing cold out, so we stopped at The Square and had coffee and biscuits.  Back home the boys stood on chairs at the sink and helped with the vegetables.  Son 1 made a pretty good job of scrubbing the carrots, parsnips, potatoes and swede.  “See Mummy, it’s perfect!”  Yes it was.  No mud on the veg.  But mud in the sink, around the sink, on the walls, on Son 1 and on Son 2,  on the microwave, and the floor was flooded.  Who cares.  Not us.  Son 2 played with the carrot peel and plopped the veg back in the sink one by one.  They went upstairs to play.  I peeled salsify, feeling guilty that I wasn’t going with them for quality time.  So everyone.  Make your mind up.  I can play with them and they can eat Turkey Twizzlers, or I can cook organic veg from the local box scheme and we can have a sit down meal together.  Whaddya want.  The other salsify paradox is how you’re supposed to cook it.  I roasted it with the root veg.  Nope.  Like chewing the sort of mooring rope that wouldn’t have broken in last night’s storm.

What A Difference A Child Makes

1.  Dreaming

2.  Dream Come True

3.  Nightmare

4am.  A shape by the side of the bed. Little fingers on my eyebrows.  I lifted Son 1 aged 4y 4 m over into the middle of the Big Bed.  Later, unable to get back to sleep, I got up to go downstairs.  “Mummy?” The little shape followed me down and we got into his bed.  Later, a terrified banshee scream from next door. I pelted in. Son 2 aged 16m was standing up in the corner of the cot.  I whipped him into bed and he went back to sleep.  On holiday in Portugal, I was in an Office suit, but no bra and no shoes.  I was carrying a small red ball.  I’d got on a bus and got off again, but I wasn’t sure where I was.   I needed to get back to get Son 1.  But I had no money and I couldn’t speak Portuguese.  I woke up.   Son 1 was standing on the landing. I went to him.  ”Let’s go downstairs,” I whispered. “Don’t wake Son 2.” He ignored me, clambered into the space I’d just vacated and cuddled Son 2.  Who giggled.

4.30pm. Heavy grey clouds hung low across the sky, thick snow whirled.  Son 1’s Nursery teacher rang.  “Can you come and get him?  We’re worried about the roads.”  By the time I got there the snow was thick on the ground, and there were only two other children left.  Outside, Son 1 was enchanted.  “I’ve always wanted snow haven’t I?” He tried throwing snowballs at me… but as he’s never made one he hasn’t quite got the knack.  He wanted to laugh and play.  I couldn’t see how we were going to get back.  I finally got him in the car and decided to try for home.  It was slow, it was horrible, snow fell continuously.  Before Son 1 was born I would have just gone back to The Office and stayed somewhere overnight.  I wouldn’t have been worried about making the trip with no snacks, blankets or water.  But That Was Then.

The main roads were worrying, but passable.  The Terrace was a snow sheet in the dark.  Son 1 was asleep.  I parked at the end, scuffed the snow away and realised I was on a double yellow line.  I rang The Man.  “There’s a space outside the house, just bring it up.”  I drove up the hill.  I double parked by the space and went to get The Man, thinking he’d be better at parking it than me.  I turned round and the car was rolling away from me backwards down the hill.  A young girl ran into the road to try to stop it.  “My son’s in there!” I shrieked.  “Jump in and put the handbrake on!” she said. “It is on!” I yelled.  I got to the door, leapt in, stood on the brake and yanked the handbrake up as hard as I could. The car stopped.  I looked back.  The girl and a man were standing behind the car.  I thanked them. “Are you all right?”  “No,” I was shaking.  Son 1 woke up and started to cry.   I drove a bit further up the hill and abandoned the car on the side of the road.  The Man opened the front door, holding Son 2 in his cotton pyjamas.  “What have you put it up there for?”  He’d looked out the window, seen me in the car outside, come downstairs and seen me take it up the hill.  Missing a teeny part of the story.

Snowmen

 1.  Snowed Under

 2.  Snow Regrets

3.  Snow Sports

Getting into The Office was a good thing. The Terrace was frozen, just single track tyre treads worn through white ice. Two inches of snow on top of every car. Our taxi driver friend said the main roads are ok, the side streets skating rinks. Wonder Nanny rang. Her road was snowed in. She could walk over. I thought perhaps two freezing miles in calf-high snow and then a full day looking after children was a bit ambitious. If she could get down to the main road I’d pick her up. She rang back. Fiance would bring her over. The Man got the car out of the space and turned it round, left the engine running and then off I inched. Second gear. Praying nothing would come the other way. And on to the main roads, and I was in.

At The Office a colleague came in happily. She hadn’t seen snow for 20 years. I rang home in the afternoon. Son 1 aged 4y 4m had built two snowmen with Wonder Nanny. He rolled up the snow to make the body of one of them on his own. Being positive, this has possibly saved us all a trip to Lapland at Christmas. But pang, pang, pang. I wanted to make snowmen with him. Wonder Nanny took pictures. So I can see how happy he was.

I parked at the other end of The Terrace, and got out of the car, carrying my chunky briefcase, and an overflowing Tesco carrier bag full of M and S fruit. Not strong enough, fruit falling out, but I was too mean to pay for yet another Marks one. A passing friend carried my briefcase to the house while I grappled with my fruit. There is a very good snowman in the front garden, and another very good one out the back. At home, I realised I’d left meat I’d bought in Tesco in the boot. The Man said he’d go and get it. Son 1 wanted to go. Son 2 aged 16m wanted to go. We all went. Son 2 trotted down in his reins, burbling and whooping all the way. Son 1 chased The Man, scooping up handfuls of the scant remaining snow and throwing it at him. Big relief. Wonder Nanny doesn’t do hand-to-hand combat. He clearly still doesn’t know how to make a decent snowball. I still have a role.

The Young Visiters

1.  Hunting

2.  Gathering

3.  Nurturing

2 small boys played upstairs in Son 1 aged 4y 4m’s bedroom.  They had the Duplo out, Son 1 laying train tracks, Son 2 aged 16m taking out all the little animals and people, then all the little vehicles, then all the little bricks.  Chatting, absorbed.  Flow.  A Good Thing.  Only everything I needed to do was two floors down.  Who needs a workout.  Down two flights, load washing machine.  Wails from upstairs.  Up two flights. Son 2 has dismantled Son 1’s Duplo robot.  Down two flights.  Tidy up breakfast things.  Stop.  Listen.  Silence.  Absolute silence.  Up two flights.  Game continuing, no foul play.  I lay down on the bed in the next door room.  I will just rest and relax while they entertain themselves.  In toddled a small laughing boy, carrying a Duplo giraffe.  He got the joke.  Mummy was hiding and needed to be found.  Closely followed by a slightly bigger boy.  He got the joke.  Mummy was lying down waiting for someone to lie on top of her.  The phone rang.

It was the Wednesday Friends.  One set is still ill, the other were going to Grandparents while Mother and Father go away for a couple of days.  They were going earlier than planned because the weather forecast is bad.  I rang Friend With New Baby (Third Boy.)  Can we come?  We will bring Ready Meals.  We stopped off at Asda.   A kind man found me a trolley with 2 baby seats and I jammed the boys in.  Max 15kg.  No idea what that means.   Clearly doesn’t apply to Children Of Older Parents.   The weather forecast is Saving Retailing.  The trolleys were tessellated in the aisles.   We added ours and bingo, gridlock. The boys leaned out for packages, pointed and picked, and pinched and slapped each other all the way round.  “You’ve been so good,” I said brightly, as arms shot out like swords on chariot wheels to destroy leaflet stands on both sides of the checkout. 

We had a great time at Friend With New Baby’s.  Son 2 clapped eyes on the 5 week old new arrival and was enslaved.  A house full of toys, shelves, buttons, fireguards and televisions… and he just pitter pattered back again and again to the lounge where New Arrival sat in his bouncy chair.  “You can play when he wakes up,” we said, taking him back to the playroom.   Pitter patter pitter patter.  When NA awoke, Son 2 bent over and kissed his head, he laid his head on his tummy, he patted and stroked and touched and held.  The Elder Brothers are 4 and nearly 3 and formed a gang with Son 1, playing Spiderman, Power Rangers, Pirates and Sinbad.   Son 2 occasionally showed an interest in them, and had a look at some toys, but all he really wanted was the baby.  After lunch we watched Nanny McPhee.  Two boys slept all the way home.

Surrendered Parents

1.  Capitulation

2.  Corruption

3.  Celebration

A New Family Rule.  If Little Children Want To Sleep With Their Parents They Can.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m thinks this is good idea.  “Is this because of me?”  “Yes,” I said.  No.  It’s because we had the most wretched night with Son 2 aged 16m.  Plot summary:  he wanted to lie in the big bed with a grown up;  I wanted him to sleep in his cot.    Neither The Man nor I sleep particularly well when we have a child with us.  And we both get grumpy when we don’t sleep.  So when Son 2 stood up and bayed at 2315, I tried to get him back to sleep.  He roared.  He shouted till his voice went hoarse.  He screamed and screeched and shrieked.  He woke Son 1.  He finally stopped at 1am.  i put Son 1 back in his bed.  Made hot chocolate.  And was then worried that something might be wrong with Son 2 so went into his room.  In the early hours he awoke again, and I just popped him into bed with me.  He went straight back to sleep.

We had Horrid Henry again on the way to Nursery.  I am going to retire him.  Too many: “Bor-ring”s and raspberries from Son 1.  I like to think a “You’re terrible parents” was rooted in Horrid Henry, rather than any seriously thought-through conclusion.  So at Ottakars I began the re-education programme.  We now have Peter Pan, Roald Dahl, and Stories For Five Year Olds.   Back from The Office, I walked in as Son 1 had just hit Son 2.  Oh somehow he got his new CDs.  “I hope you choose Peter Pan for us to listen to tomorrow,” I said.  “Which one do you want to hear?”  “Peter Pan,” said Son 1.  Hooray hooray.  We may yet get him back from Horrid Henry.

Reading to Son 1 after bathtime, I tried to get any information at all from him about his day at Nursery.  “Who did you sit with at lunch?”  “Can’t remember.”  “What did you do that was fun?” “Nothing.” ”What was your favourite bit of the day?”  “When Mummy came home.”  He deserved every one of those new CDs.

Sound Effects

1. Shouting Out

2. Listening Up

3. Quietening Down

 So Son 1 aged 4y 4m had permission to creep in bed with Mummy and Daddy if he woke in the night. He woke in the night and screamed The Terrace down. Son 2 aged 16m woke and went into air-raid siren mode. It was 3am. I am now finding it difficult to set a good example of restraint under stressd. But looking on the bright side, when you’ve already decided your strategy is Giving Up, at least you don’t have to waste time Teaching Them To Sleep Independently (The Greatest Gift A Parent Can Give.) I went into bed with Son 2 while The Man took Son 1.

Getting to Son 1 before the After School Club closed was a Good Thing. One of those “If the road is clear, if the clock is right, if nothing happens, if I can park” journeys. I got there with about 4 minutes to spare, and Son 1 shone a smile at me and ran to find his things. On the way back we listened to Peter Pan. It was dark, Son 1 was silent, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep. Back in street lit territory and I snatched a glance in the mirror. Son 1 was sitting forward in his car seat, hands on his knees, leaning forward to listen, riveted. We got to the house just as the Lost Boys shot Wendy.

We were late back, and Son 2 was already upstairs with The Man. We went up and obliterated The Man’s attempts to follow our routine. Son 2 laughed, tottered, held out his arms, ran after Son 1, ran away from Son 1… The Man took Son 1 downstairs for tea. Son 2 and I read books, and then I put him in the bath. He’s such a poppet. He’s just started shaking his head and nodding his head, only he does little, fast to-and-fro movements like he’s shaking water out of his ears. I put him in the cot, did my singing and counting down and left him. Not only did he lie down without trying to clamber out of the cot, but he also cried for less than 5 minutes after I’d gone. A Good Thing.

I Believe In Cats

1.  Louder Than Words

2.  A Perfect Lunch

3.  Pat And Peter

Three years to the weekend since Son 1 aged 4y 4m was christened.  He was further forward in his speech than Son 1 aged 16m. When the water was splashed on his forehead he said “No, no, no.”   Son 2 can’t do yes and no.  But this morning,  I called across the room: “Son 2, have you done a poo?”  And he looked at me and did his tiny-fast movements nodding thing. He did indeed need a new nappy…

We went shopping in The Big Town.   Son 2 had stayed awake all the way there and was barely conscious. Choice.  Push the pram, have him fall asleep for a very short time, and then have to stop and get him some food Or Else.  Give him lunch at 1145 and let him fall asleep for a longer snooze.  We went to a cafe/bar.  The waitress understood the situation perfectly.  She slapped the children’s lunch order in before taking the rest of our order, and brought out 2 x sausage and chips in minutes. The children behaved impeccably.  The first stress-free family lunch we have had.  We shopped, and called into see Son 2’s Godmother, who isn’t well.  In her lounge was Son 2’s thirteen year old Godbrother, six girls and two boys.  The girls were making tutus for a party.  The Godmother had no idea who any of them were.  But she says at least she knows where Godbrother is.

Back home, the boys played with the Thomas Wooden Railway.  We have a lot of this, and Son 1 has always been a bit ambivalent.  Not many Pirates in Thomas.  But Son 2 loves it, which means Son 1 is also playing with it more often.  I made broccoli in cheese and onion sauce with pasta for tea.  They wolfed it.  Son 2 had fourths.  They got down from the table.  I read the paper and drank wine.  Son 1 came back, perching himself on the chair next to me, and playing with a Postman Pat van, and a plastic Postman Pat and Jess.  “I believe in cats, I believe in cats, I believe in cats.”  I looked up.  “What’s Postman Pat saying to Jess?” “I believe in cats.” “Why?”  “Because Jess has died.”  The pervasive Peter Pan again.  If you say you don’t believe in fairies,  one dies.

Party Time

1.  Sleeping In My Bed

2.  Banana Cake

3.  The Play Den

Midnight.  A stir in the air which means Son 1 aged 4y 4m is heading upstairs.  Son 2 aged 16m started roaring.  I sat up.  Son 1 crawled into bed behind me.  I waited to see if Son 2 would settle, but he wanted someone to come, and he was doing his shouting-so-angrily-you-can-hear-his-throat-strain thing. “Did you wake Son 2 up?” I asked Son 1. “No.” “Did you peek in his room at all?” “I didn’t go in his room.”  Son 2 was using everything he had, heels upwards, in his yelling.  I went downstairs to him.  The quilt of the bed in his room was turned back.  Son 1 had obviously got in the bed, snugged across unsuccessfully looking for a parent, padded away upstairs… and set his brother off.  By 0130 Son 2 was back in a deep sleep.  I plopped him in the cot, and went next door to sleep in Son 1’s bed.  I was freezing and needed an extra blanket.  Ah.  Son 1’s broken nights have coincided with this cold snap.  We are indeed Terrible Parents.

In the morning I told Son 1 that someone had, indeed, been into Son 2’s bedroom in the night and woken him up.  Son 1 laughed.  “It was me.”  Son 2 wanted food.  I took him downstairs while I made drinks and snacks.  He stood on dining chairs propped up by the worktops.  Direct line of sight to  the tub containing banana cake made by Wonder Nanny on Friday.  “Aahhh,” points Son 2.  I don’t think it’s possible to deflect Son 2 from a food mission once he’s got an idea in his head.  He ate two pieces.  And another piece for breakfast.

Son 1 had an invitation to a joint Nursery party at a Tourist Attraction 30 miles away.  The day was planned.  Son 2’s sleep.  Lunch. In the car and off we go.  Son 2, bunged up with banana cake,  wouldn’t eat an atom of lunch.     We walked into the Tourist Attraction. “You know Mummy, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Son 1, taking in the slides, the soft play, and the Big Uns’ playstuff.   Half the size of the Bird Park play area, with four times as many children.   He sat on the sides, swinging his legs, and trying to get me to ask his Nursery friends to play with him.   He got there in the end.  Son 2 loved it.  Ball pool, play with the air jets.  Slides.  Climbing over the Big Uns’ playstuff. 90 minutes of heaving Son 2 up and down, round and along… sometimes checking on Son 1, sometimes playing with him, and it was time for Party Tea.  I tried to get Son 2 to eat a ham sandwich.  He settled for a chocolate doughnut.  At last I could go and get a cappacino.  The coffee machine was out of order.  Twenty minutes later, an announcement.  The loos were also out of order.  Tea over, more play, and then we rounded up our balloons and headed home, listening to Peter Pan and (one of us) munching cake and eating lollipops all the way.

Tags: ball pool, balloons, banana cake, birthday party, broken night, crying, disturbed night, loud crying, midnight waking, Party Tea, peter pan, Play Den, problem sleeping, soft play, summer quilt

Once A Mother

1.  A Suitable Boy

2.  The Wake Up Call

3.  Homecoming

Yesterday, before I left, for my overnight trip, a colleague was telling me about her student daughter.  She has chucked the Very Suitable Boyfriend.  The New Boyfriend is 11 years older.  His band is called ******.  Their single is called ****.  He wears a pink leotard.  The Very Suitable Boyfriend keeps ringing my colleague to give her updates on the Unsuitability of the New Boyfriend.  My colleague is “letting them get on with it.”

I drove through the rain to The Big City.  I met colleagues I hadn’t seen since before Son 1 aged 4y 4m was born.  It was great to see them, and I’m pleased I went.  I stayed in a hotel, looking forward to my lie in, missing Son 1 and Son 2 aged 16m, but looking forward to my morning off.  The phone rang, extraordinarily loudly, at 0530.  I couldn’t work out what it was.  It stopped. It started again.  Amazingly loud.  I picked it up and put it down to stop the noise.  And lay, wide awake, pondering the chances of an alarm call coming to the wrong room and disturbing me on my second morning ever sans enfants.  I told my story to my colleagues over breakfast.  Great news.  I am not the World’s Most Unlucky Mother. It was the fire alarm.  

A colleague told me about a mutual acquaintance who, when I last saw him, was going through the process of adopting his last child.  She is now 4, and a delight to the family.  When she was 2, they had a phone call from social services.  The birth mother had had another child, a girl, with a number of serious health problems.  The family could be considered first.  For a number of reasons, they’d had to say no.   I thanked my lucky stars, counted my blessings and there-but-for-the-graced.  To go through their journey, and then to have to make a decision like that on a bolt from the blue… I just about made it back for bedtime.  The Man has Flu.  Son 1 has a horrible croupy cough.  Son 2 has a cough, not quite so horrible, but with definite potential.  Son 1 has a huge scratch on his cheek: “It was Son 2!”  They were madly excited as I came up the stairs.  They are too wonderful to be left.

A Wandering Star

1.  Where Do The Children Play?

2.  The First Cut

3.  Hard Headed Women

Went down to The Museum with The Wednesday Friends.  We had a full house, thanks to an Inset Day, so the Eldest Boy, in full time school aged 4y 7m could come.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m wore his Captain Hook outfit.  Son 2 aged 17m just wanted to walk and walk.  3 4 year olds, a 3 year old and a 2 year old played, clung to mothers, fell out, fell over…. and the little toddler just toddled.  Out towards the windows.  Down the slopes to the lower floors.  Out to the lifts.  Up the stairs.  And, back down in The Square, off alongside The Museum to where The Man had dropped us all off.  Toddle toddle toddle.   At one point I had Son 1 snuggled up in The Big Pram and Son 2 on the reins.   Son 1 has always stayed close to heel.  For Son 2, There’s Such A Lot Of World To See.

On the way back we stopped in at the Hairdresser’s to see if they could give Son 1 a long overdue trim.  He is now too big for the little cars in front of the DVDs.  Pang.  Where did that go?  He sat on a special older child’s chair, watching Ratatouille, a Gold-Medal winning Pout on his face.  I chatted to the other hairdressers.  We decided they should trim Son 2’s fringe.  We sat him in the car.  He laughed and laughed at the joke.  When the scissors came near his head, he batted them away and tried to grab the hand wielding them.  Then he tried standing up, even though he was belted in.  Then he wanted to get down.  Then he wanted to get into the other car.  I caught his baby hair, and the salon owner put it in a money bag for me.  Son 1 gathered up two cupped handfuls of his hair from the floor and presented it to me.  I needed his hairdresser to tell me: “I think he wants you to keep his as well.”   We gazed in the nearby jeweller’s shop at the lockets in the window.   “Daddy will have to buy me one of those to keep your hair in,” I told Son 1.  “And I need one for my treasure chest,” he said.

Half price food at a local pizza place, so the two other Wednesday mums and I went out for a meal.  We discussed children and men, the days before we had our families,  childhoods, people we know and food and faddy eating.  And had a very nice time.

Stille Nacht

1.  Darling Buds

2.  Primroses

3.  Hazelnuts

And Good Thing No 1 is that for the first time in ages (since they had their colds?) Son 1 aged 4y 4m, and Son 2 aged 17 went to sleep and woke up in their own bed/cot.  Not without trauma or incident, but it’s a start.  Son 2 cried so much yesterday evening that we simply had to leave him.  We were both working and in the end, after each of us had spent a couple of 20 min+s with him, we had to give up and let him cry.  Which I’m not doing again as I can’t stand it.  But… he did stay asleep in the cot till morning.  A Gold Star to the little boy with the Very Loud Voice.  Son 1 came floating up to the Big Bed at 4am, and I led him back down to his own bed.  I got in with him, and then when he’d gone back to sleep I went in the bed in Son 2’s room.  After so many nights of me in one bed with one child, and The Man in the other bed with the other, I am pleased. 

We got to Nursery in plenty of time.  Son 1’s last day before his half term.  There are some daffodils in bloom on the other side of the road to the Muddy Path.  And primroses.  “I won a prize when I was a little girl for drawing a primrose.” “What did you win?”  “I can’t remember.  I got a certificate.”  “Can i see the picture?”  “I haven’t got it anymore.”  “Can I see the certificate?”  “I haven’t got that any more either.  I know I was very proud.”  In the Nursery, Son 1 showed me his snowmen pictures, up on the wall.  Son 1 with his Snowman.  The Snowman, without Son 1.   Nursery wrote us a note in Son 1’s book thanking us for the photos.  “Son 1 is very proud of them.”   

Son 1 and I went shopping.  He struggled to get past the Power Ranger toys, Ben 10 jumpers/socks, and power ranger/Ben 10 outfits.  I let him choose a cake to eat at the till.  He chose a doughnut with chocolate icing and chopped hazelnuts.  Up and down the aisles.  He sat in the trolley.  He did pretty well, although it really isn’t a good idea to take him.  At the till I gave him his doughnut.  As I packed the shopping: “Mummy can you take these bits off, I don’t like them.”  I packed up, I paid.  I pushed Son 1 to the side.  And then stood there picking off scores and scores of hazelnut pieces.  I got most of them off, and gave the doughnut back to Son 1 with just a few dotted about on it.  He spent the time from the shop to the car meticulously picking every piece off.  In the car on the way home he ate the chocolate icing and then passed me the ring with it’s top chewed off.

V For Valentine

1.    Starting Early

2.    Sea Bass

3.    Looking Superficial

 A rubbish night.  Son 2 aged 17m woke screaming at 1am.  I went down pretty quickly and lifted him out of his cot. Rigid with tension.  How does he do that so fast?  It really makes me think there’s little point at this stage trying to leave him in any way to settle himself back to sleep.  He’s awake, he’s wound up… only a Parent will do.  At 4am Son 1 aged 4y 4m woke with a horrible croupy cough.  I heard him trailing upstairs to the Big Bed.  Son 2 seemed to be in a coma, so I gently lifted him back into his cot.  On the basis that anytime spent sleeping without an adult is a right step.  He woke.  And then he didn’t go back to sleep for an hour and a half.  There are times when he simply cannot settle himself – even when I’m there.   At 0530 I left him and went downstairs for coffee.  And i got some Office work done.  Which was a Good Thing.

Six Valentine’s cards in the window.  The Man’s, Mine, two cards (identical, bought by The Man) for me from the boys.  Two cards (similar, but different, bought by me) for the boys.  We had vague going out plans but decided they were too ambitious after the broken night.  Son 1 wanted to play with his Moon Sand, so we said he could during Son 2’s nap.  Then Son 1 wanted to hold a fish in his hands.  He was still thinking of the Sea Bass in the Fishmonger’s he’d wanted me to buy on Wednesday.  Fine.  We would go down and get a Sea Bass for tea.  Off we went.  Son 1’s haul from the charity collectors was one red rose and two red balloons.  We bought the Sea Bass. He held it in his hands in the Fishmonger’s.

It’s still in the fridge.  After lunch we were all in the lounge when Son 2 trod on the Castle of Doom drawbridge.  It collapsed under his food and he split his lip open on a pointy battlement.  He roared.  His mouth and nose were full of blood – his mouth was awash in it.  I took him up to a nurse at the Minor Injuries Unit.  She said they could glue it, but we could take him to see a doctor at The Hospital if we liked.  Off we went.  The Man and Son 1 came too, because Son 1 wouldn’t stay  behind.  The doctor at the Hospital said it was superficial, a graze, and she didn’t need to do anything to it.  We bought the boys back and gave them their baths.  It isn’t superficial.  It’s a whopping great trench, like an inverted V, and if it doesn’t look any better tomorrow then I’m taking him back.  The doctor, like so many I see these days, looked about 18.  But then as all her workmates are plastic surgeons, that may not necessarily mean anything.

Tonic, Treat And Teeth

1.  Four Good Things Before Breakfast

2.  V For Vaseline

3.  CuddleBlast

The Man and I both went to sleep on our own in the Big Bed last night.  This is a Good Thing.  For a while it’s seemed like one or other of us is in with a child from the off.  Son 2 aged 17m stayed in his own bed till 3am.  That’s a lot better than last night.  Tick. Another Good Thing.   I woke up in daylight, got up and he slept on,  so that’s actually only four hours in with a parent.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m stayed in his own bed all night. Four Good Things already and it was only 7am.  The Man and Son 1 were downstairs and pottering, Son 1 itching to decorate a biscuit.  I said he could do one for breakfast if he ate all his fruit tub first. 

Son 1 span out his tub for a good hour and a half, watching telly in the lounge. Son 2 and I read, had our shower and went downstairs for breakfast.  Son 2’s lip is still horrible, but now the swelling’s gone down it isn’t gaping as much as yesterday.  He’s still got his cold though, and wiping his nose – which was always a bit of a trauma – just made him weep.  So I spent today cleaning up snot, drying the wound and slathering vaseline on it.  Most mornings we have Tonic, Treat and Teeth.  Omega 3 vitamin medicine, a biscuit and then teeth cleaning.  They had their Tonic and were allowed to decorate their biscuits as their Treat.  They both stuffed their faces with the sprinkles and sugar balls, Son 2’s sticking to his vaseline.  Son 1 started squeezing the icing straight from the pen into his mouth.    His sprinkles stuck to the icing round his mouth.  Son 1 ate some of his biscuit.  Son 2 just licked the icing and sprinkles off.

We went for lunch with Son 2’s Godmother and Godsister, who had vouchers for Pizza Express.   Son 1 had a serious shyness episode.  Godsister had changed.  She wasn’t like she was before.  Godsister is a beautiful, willowy, 14.  Son 1 last saw her about 6m ago.  She’d got Very Big.  The boys did well at lunch – Son 2 was on great form.  Godmother and Godsister swore by Bio Oil for Son 2’s lip.  We shopped on the way home.  Nappies, Bio Oil and Ibuprofen sachets.  And Son 2’s first pair of shoes.  He loved them.  Stomped around the shop in them squealing and squawking,  Godmother and Godsister had to come round to see Son 1’s Omnitrix.  They were introduced to Heatblast, Wildmutt and Co.  Son 1 helped me cook the Sea Bass for tea.  Son 2 wolfed it. Son 1 finally ate a reasonable amount after exhausting cajoling.  We invented CuddleBlast, a superhero who cuddles the baddies every time she catches them.  Peels of laughter from Son 1.  At bathtime, Son 2 was very chilled when the Bio Oil went on his lip.  They went to bed. I went for a run.  A lot of Good Things.

Coastal Conditions

1.  A Dark And Stormy Night 

2.  Sea Breeze 

3.  What A Beautiful Day

Oh What A Night.   Son 2 aged 17m woke up at about 2300m and The  Man went to him. I went upstairs… The Man was already in bed with Son 2.   I went to bed and Son 2 still fretted and called, and called and fretted.   Son 1 aged 4y 4m cried out.  I heard The Man snoring.  My left ear,  which has been cracking since last summer was agony if I lay on it.  After well over an hour of Son 2 bawling and miaowing. I went down.  The Man had Son 2 and Son 1 in bed with him.  I sent him and Son 1 upstairs, gave Son 2 Calpol and snugged down with him.  At 0130 I said if he didn’t go to sleep he was going back in his cot.  At 0200 he was asleep on the bed, and I went downstairs to sort my ear out and get a cup of tea. He started howling again.  I came back upstairs and put him in the cot.  I bent down next to him for a good 20 minutes, killing my ear, jaw and throat.  He finally passed out.  At last A Good Thing. I went downstairs and drank tea till 3am.  And then went to sleep in Son 1’s bed. 

  Son 1 slept till gone 9am. The first time he’s still been asleep in bed when Wonder Nanny arrived.   We rang his Best Friend.  Going to the Gardens by the Beach with their scooters.  We were under pressure, because Son 2 was so tired after his disturbed night.  We loaded up the car with The Big Pram (portable bed,) Son 1’s scooter, Son 1’s skates, knee and elbow pads and helmet, and Son 2’s pushalong car.  When we got there Best Friend had had such a huge tantrum that he wasn’t allowed in the Gardens, and had no telly all day.  We went on The Beach.  Son 2 loved it.  He was still screaming to stay awake when I wheeled him up and down to get him to sleep at 1330.  Amazing stamina.  Must get it from his father.   The split lip is still looking pretty grim.

A Northerly, so we were protected a little on The Beach, the sun shone, the air was clear, children ran around everywhere.  Next to us we had a half-term club, who had a parachute,  piles of buckets and spades, and a huge sand racing car they’d dug.  They wanted Son 2 to sit in it.  Until he started taking great handfuls out of the steering wheel and bonnet.   Our four welcomed a stream of small children who wandered in and out of their play zone…   Son 1 in the end folded.  He’s still got his temperature thing, where he suddenly starts to burn up, and he wanted to go home. I have a nasty feeling he’s just not drinking enough.  Being positive, we now have a new sticker chart.  He can have a star each time he has a cup of juice/water/milk.  And so we’ll soon find out if it’s a dehydration thing.

A Herd Of Peacocks

1.  Reveille

2.  Rendezvous

3.  Muster

Hooray hooray. Both boys stayed in their own beds all night.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m lost a few points for waking up screaming at 11pm, but he’s still not well.  A croupy cough.  Severe nasal congestion.  And a temperature that shoots up suddenly and can barely be tent-pegged down again by big slugs of calpol and ibuprofen.  Son 2 aged 17m lost points for waking up when I tiptoed down at 5am for coffee, and then refusing to go back to sleep.  I put the light on to give him some calpol, and his eyes were wide open, his pupils huge and spookily darting back and forward in REM.  And at the same time he was gripping me so I couldn’t go.  He was instantly awake and alert.   I thought REM meant deep deep sleep.  Clearly Son 2 represents Man’s Next Evolutionary Leap.  Humans Who Need No Sleep. 

We decided on the Peacock Playground, and it was a Good Thing when I found the paperwork for the family membership after half an hour’s hunting. (Son 1, booted and coated and crunching on the gravel outside: “Are we giving up yet?” Me: “Of course not darling, it’ll turn up in a minute.”)  Recycling pile.  We arrived and played.  Weather fabulous.  Bright sunshine, spring garden.  Son 1 climbed and slid and rocked and rode.  Son 2 rode and tottered and crawled and swung.  Wonder Nanny had packed pitta, pepper and hummous, and the boys dived in.  A  beautiful peacock sauntered up looking for food.  We fed it pitta. Son 2 gave it pepper.  It was amazing in the sunlight.  Iridescent, shimmering blue, greeny golds, goldy greens, and on its back a fantastic vivid deep lime green. It wandered off, and our two slipped down from the table to follow it. Then a pack of eight year old boys chased it into the bushes.

We collected feathers.  Not the great big Event ones… but little ones, dotted and speckled in browns, greys and blacks, fluffy and white, very small with just a hint of brilliant blue.  We even have a couple of red-tipped ones from some Golden Pheasants/Lady Amhersts. Son 1 is going to make a peacock picture with them.  We have in fact collected enough for a New Hat for Mummy.  The peacocks were out in force. At one point there were nearly 20, mostly female, mostly young, on the lawn and moving like grazing animals.  “What’s the collective noun for a group of peacocks?” asked Wonder Nanny.  “A herd?”  A male suddenly spread his tail.  With his back turned to the girls.  “Mummy mummy!” Son 1 was jumping in excitement.  Son 2 ignored it all and watched a tractor and trailer.  He walked miles today.  Both boys slept deeply on the way home.  And as soon as we got in, Son 1’s temperature rocketed…

The Cuteness Of Piglets

1.  Daring To Kiss

2.  Spring Animals

3.  Dinner With A Friend

I spent the night with Son 1 aged 4y 4m.  He’s still hot and bothered. I got up just before 5am, and decided I Do Not Drink Coffee till 6am.  I cracked at 0520.  Did some admin/paperwork.  The Man got up.  Off on a Business Trip.  Very pleased to see me Downstairs.  He’d thought, as I wasn’t with Son 1, that I must be behind closed doors with Son 2 aged 17m.  The Man dares not go into The Lightest Sleeper In The World’s bedroom, and thought it would be bad luck to leave without kissing goodbye.  After all these years I think that counts as a Good Thing.

A text from a Wednesday Mum.  Little Three Year Old Friend fell off the new bunk bed ladder last night and has broken his arm. Overnight in The Hospital, in theatre this morning.  I rang.  Tib and fib.  Carried off in an ambulance.  Five weeks in plaster ahead.   We went off to the Bird Park.  It was indescribably busy.  Every table packed, buggies everywhere, people standing round the edges.  The Other Wednesday Mum went for coffees while Son 2 and I played in the toddler area.  A table became free right next to it.  I stepped over and plonk.  Camp struck, Good Thing bagged.  Son 1 played, but as his calpol wore off his mood crashed.  We went outside. Down to the Farm.  The goats weren’t hungry – half term, they ‘d eaten hundreds of bags of pellets.  they just wanted grass.  There was a great fat black pig with ten gorgeous tiny piglets.  As a vegetarian, I can enjoy the cuteness of piglets guilt-free.  The quails had chicks.  The Big Fat Hens had laid eggs in the hen houses.  We went up to the Penguin Pond.  Son 1 climbed up on the wall and sat, in a “W,” which meant he takes up three times as much room as a child sitting cross-legged.   About sixty children were crammed round the wall.  Buckets of fish arrived with two keepers.  “We need about 12 volunteers!”  Every had shot up.  Son 1 has learned from previous disappointments, and is now much better at getting picked.  He was the best penguin-feeder by far.  Coat off, shoes off, dive into bucket.  Fling Those Fish.

Only. We’d forgotten Nanna was coming at 4pm.  I tried ringing, and off we sped.   Her car was parked near the house, no sign of her.  My mobile went.  She was waiting with our neighbours.  We drove down to The Square and went into Pizza Express for tea.  The boys were worn out and loudly fractious.  And then in came Son 1’s nearly six-year-old friend with his Mother, just back from the panto.  They sat on the other side of the restaurant, and Son 1 spent the entire meal with them.  I sent over a glass of Pinot Grigio as a babysitting fee.   So. Rude to Nanna, but he wate nearly every scrap of pizza, and Nanna and I got our food. Son 2 went for a walk round the restaurant with Nanna, fell over, hit his nose and split his lip open again.

After a long, late, exhausting bedtime, I rang 3 year old’s father at home, and then his mum in the hospital. They were both within 1m of him when it happened.  Second rung from the bottom of the ladder, foot slipped in, child fell and they heard the “snap.”  He has two greensticks and one proper fracture.  He was X-Ray Of The Day.  He’s on calpol.  He seems fine.   In the next bed is a little girl still recovering from the car crash in which her brother died.  It’s really only a scratch on Son 2’s lip.

No Place Like Home

 1. Lying In

 2. Lying Down

3. Laid Up

Son 2 aged 17 shrieked, sobbed and shouted at 11pm. I got him back down in his cot. Son 1 aged 4y 4m woke screaming at some Godforsaken hour. I went down. He was still half asleep, so I carried him up to the Big Bed. Son 2 slept till 7am, starlet. We went downstairs, he had snacks and milk, I had coffee. We came back and read some books. We had a shower… I dressed him. I didn’t dare go back up for either my clothes or contact lenses, so I sat playing with him in Son 1’s abandoned bedroom till Wonder Nanny arrived. We headed on down for breakfast, and Son 1 materialised at about 0845, draped round a stair rail, half-crying, half-sulking.

We had a slow morning; Wonder Nanny took Son 2 upstairs for a nap. He cried and reached for me, his eyes beseeching. She got him settle without so much as a dust speck stirring. How can that happen? She took him upstairs… she came down after 15 minutes. No yelling, so screeching, no punching through ear drums like he’s opening a new jar of coffee. On the Bright Side, she’s an excellent Control in our childcare experiment. Son 2 doesn’t toss and turn and refuse to settle because he’s a wired child, acutely receptive to stimulus, who finds relaxing very difficult. Son 2 has no problems at all with Wonder Nanny. Son 2 just Wants His Mum.

We roasted a chicken and some vegetables which they kind of ate, and then went out on an expedition to get a present for, and visit, the Three Year Old With The Broken Arm. Playdoh Operation. I thought it was funny. At the invalid’s house, we inspected the new bunk beds. Very nice indeed. “We were hoping they’ wouldn’t sleep in our bed anymore once they had these…” said the Mother, as Three Year Old heaved himself up, the plaster casted arm trailing. “Well it’s worked for Three Year Old, hasn’t it?” I said. “Two nights in hospital instead.” Back home, The Man returned. Son 1 chose stories about sleepovers and poorliness for bedtime. We read “There’s No Place Like Home,” in which a mole looks for a new house. “There’s no place like my home,” said Son 1, snuggling down.

Sandcastles In February

1.   Shorter Nights

2.   Lovely Morning

3.   Precious Days

Son 2 aged 17m woke at 1130 last night, just after I’d gone to bed.  He screamed and I let him.  I hated it. It went on forever.  But I’ve been so tired, and I couldn’t help thinking that he had gone to sleep without a whimper for Wonder Nanny.    It was all for my benefit.  He roared.  He hollered himself hoarse.  He sobbed.  He shouted.  He woke Son 1 aged 4y 4m in the next room, who cried a bit for “Mummy” and then went back to sleep.  And then, finally, he stopped, and slept till morning.  So it was a Good Thing, especially in view of the amount of times recently either of us has slept with him.  But when I finally get some rest, I still may crack again.  Because I know he won’t Want His Mummy forever.

Blue skies, crisp winter sunshine, little or no wine. We went to a new beach.  The Town’s are sandy shingle/stoney sand.  We wanted wide expanses of golden sand.  We took: the beach bag (beach toys, sun suits, beach shoes, beach mat,) the beach tent, Son 1’s inflatable surf board, two changes of clothing, two towels, two pairs of wellies, jumpers, a massive packed lunch and the Big Pram.   Son 1 checked my packing.  Son 2 fell over and split his lip open again, for the third time. (Minor Injuries again.  They said they can’t do anything now; put Vaseline on it.)  We drove for 25 miles and the boys slept.   On arrival the car park was empty.  We loaded up the Big Pram like a sherpa’s mule and trundled over a bridge across a rushing stream.  Pooh Sticks.  We all got our sticks, we got ready for “Ready Steady Go” and Son 2 chucked his stick in.  Every time.  Basic Human Instinct.  Lean over fence, look down, get given a stick, throw it in the water.   Laugh.  

Son 2 had his lunch with Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and I climbed rocks.  He pushed my hand away, he said: “I can do it!” as I reached for him.  He slipped and said “Don’t worry Mummy” before I could hoik him up again.  He wanted to walk all round the edge of a tidal pool as the tide came in.  Next time, I said.  I wanted to help him down; he jumped without me.  Pang. Slipping Through My Fingers.   We put the Beach Tent up and had our lunch.  Son 1 decided he wanted his sun suit on so he could play in the sea.  I blew up his surf board and rolled up my trousers.  In he went.  Splashing, wading, kicking, lying down, falling off, getting soaked from chin to toe in water which was so cold it hurt my feet.   Son 2, also in his sun suit,  came for a splash with Wonder Nanny.  The boys played and played.  Son 2 started crying with cold, so back in the tent I dressed him.  Son 1 came out, also crying, also blue with teeth chattering.   We made a massive sandcastle.  Son 2 kept sitting in the moat, Son 1 did all the work patting the sides down.  We took pictures.  Son 1 kicked it flat.  17 days ago he was making snowmen.   We used everything we took, which is an extra bonus point for me.

The Gift

1.  Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part One

2.  Reasons To Be Cheerful,  Part Two

3.  Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part Three

Both boys slept through the evening and the night.  Flags, fireworks, fiesta.  Another Fine Forecast. I suggested ferry, castle and beach.  The Man voted in favour.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m “I like that plan.”  We hurried to get ready.  Son 2 aged 17m was like a caged bear cub.  He was supposed to be in the kitchen with me, so he climbed up the stairs, came into the lounge and tipped my laptop off the table.  Loud bang.  Wah.  Ma-ma.  Ma-ma.  I took him up to the Big Bedroom where Son 1 was watching Citv.  I put my make up on.  “Mummy! Come and see what our baby’s done to the baby wipes!”  Our baby had pulled most of a full packet out, one by one. Climbing on chairs. Climbing on tables. Pulling out toys.  We strapped him in the buggy and fled.

The ferry was fine, Son 2 waved at another ferry, Son 1 came outside and we all stared back at The Town as we chugged away.  The harbour on the other side of The River was a bit dodgy, fishing nets, buoys, ropes and gear everywhere, unfenced, and Son 1 desperate to touch everything.  We bought pies to eat on the beach and he pestered and whined for them.  Till we got to the beach, when suddenly he wasn’t interested.  Over the rocks, into the rock pools.  Climbing, peering, prodding.  Son 2 toddled.  Off. Towards the sea, towards the rocks, away, anywhere.  I put him in his sunsuit and took  his shoes and socks off.  The shingly sand and broken shells on soft baby feet cramped his style.  For a few minutes.  He paddled and played in the water, laughing, splashing, picking up handfuls of tiny stones and letting them go.  Son 1 got in his sunsuit, and climbed and sat and fished with his net.  Another boy joined him, and they played together, refusing to come down when we called.  The beach was near-empty, the water was flat and turquoise,  the sun shone, the light was sharp.  Our coastline is always a joy, but across the deserted river on a still and clear day it was pretty much as it would have been centuries ago.   It would have been an amazing day in August. In February it was a Very Special Gift.   

Son 2 crashed out in the buggy, and we pushed him up to the Castle.  Son 1 was enchanted.  We went up narrow, spiralling stairs, we went down into chambers of cold stone.  At the bottom we saw the cannons in the gun rooms.  We peered through the gun slits: “Can you see an enemy ship?”  “Yes!” “Then Fire!” “Ker-boom!”    We went up to the top.  Son 1 was spooked by the life-size figures of soldiers in the armoury, but then fascinated: “Can I touch them, can I take their shoes off? Can I feel their hair?”  From the top of the turret, we heard Son 2’s wails.  We all went outside.   Son 2 trotted along on his reins, singing, his floppy old man combover hair blowing vertical. Son 1 crawled around under the cannons.  “Son 1! What are you doing?” “Mending the cannons!”  Ferry back, all of us psychotically tired.  I still cooked, pasta in cheese and five veg sauce.  They’ll be starving, I thought.  They’ll gobble it up.  They were.  They did.  We had them both asleep at 1930.  Fireworks. Flags. Fiesta.