Party Bag Or Daddy?

1.   Morning Has Broken

2.   A Choice

3.   Deep Sleep

4 am.  Son 2 aged 17 m, lifting the roof again.  I went down, put him back to sleep in his cot and went back to bed.  At first light he woke again, and I plonked him in the double bed and lay down next to him.  He wouldn’t go back to sleep.  He cried, he wriggled, he crawled off in his sleeping bag, he peered this way and that for drinks, he grumbled.  I refused to move.  I became aware of a Presence.  The bedside light was switched on and a bright voice aged 4y 5m said “Rise and Shine!”  Son 1 went back upstairs to watch telly, Son 2 and I went downstairs.  Wonder Nanny made flapjacks yesterday and left them in a plastic box on the work surface.  Son 2 took one look at the box and insisted.  “Ah Ma.” Hand outstretched, palm open, fingers spread as wide as they go. I rang the upstairs phone and Son 1 answered: “Hello!”  “Son 2 is having a flapjack for his snack.”  “Can I please have a flapjack?”  “Ok.”  “Goodbye.”

A 6 year old’s party this afternoon.  Fancy Dress.  Son 1 was a Power Ranger – a surprising Pang as I wondered whether he’d ever choose any of his pirate outfits again – and Son 2 was a Halloween Bat.    The party was in a Church Hall, with Son 1 and Son 2’s old Male Nursery Nurse presiding.  Many team games.  Son 1 was a bit younger than most of the children, but played very well most of the afternoon with a three year old girl friend from Down The Terrace.   All the other children loaded up on fingers of fudge, haribous, fairy cakes, chews, crisps,  chocolate crispies and squash.  My two chose cherry tomatoes, plain rice cakes, cucumber slices, and batons of pepper, carrot and cheese.  It’s the internet, I can make up anything I like.  They were both given party bags bulging with more sweets.  On the way home, Son 1 “just wanted to look at his.”  I said no, because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself opening it.  He asked if he could stay up till Daddy got back.  I said he could either have his party bag after tea, or he could stay up till The Man’s eta of 9pm.  He chose Daddy.

They had a quick tea, then a bath.  While I was putting Son 2 down, Son 1 crept in and slid into the double bed.  I carried him back in his own room when Son 2 was asleep, and he didn’t make it through Winnie The Witch’s Birthday before passing out.  The Man got back and I went upstairs, as I promised, to get Son 1.  He barely woke as I carried him downstairs, sat on The Man’s knee and cuddled him for a few minutes, but then when I offered to take him back to bed so he could go to sleep he reached out for me.  He was back asleep before I’d left his room.

Hello Mum

1.  Flowers Are Red

2.  The Fastcoach

3.  Wordcount

0530.  Son 2 aged 17m stood in his cot and bellowed. I pelted down and tried to get him to go back to sleep.  Fan on.  Snuggles in bed.  Lie still.  He kept trying to crawl over to the bedside table to look for a drink.  At 0610 we were Up.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m said he wanted to watch telly upstairs, but stayed down with us singing Nursery Rhymes and playing with Son 2’s puppets.  We have an extra verse in  Baa Baa Black Sheep: “Mummy’s got two little booooyyyys, and Son 1 and Son 2 are their names.”  “That used to just be about me, didn’t it?”  said Son 1.  Up until 17 months ago, I used to sing: “Mummy’s got a little booooyyy, and Son 1 is his name.”  As soon as Son 2 arrived, I upgraded the song.  Just as I was admiring Son 1’s ability to remember things from when he was two years old he said: “They wouldn’t let me sing my special verse at my Old Nursery.”  I expect they made him colour inside the lines of drawings as well.

Son 1 and I planned to do a Big Shop after The Office, so I’d already warned Wonder Nanny that we’d be late.  I was a little bit…er… late picking Son 1 up.  I parked up the Muddy Path so he could enjoy his woodland walk back to the car.  And halfway came those four dread little words “I-need-a-poo.”  Back to the Nursery.  Afterwards Son 1 dillied, dallied and dawdled all the way back to the car.  “Son 1 will you stop being such a slowcoach!”  “I think you should stop being a Fastcoach.”  Couldn’t agree more.  This is the child who has also brought us “sadpatch” and “naughtypatch” to go with “crosspatch.”   We got a Good Big Shop done, but we were embarrassingly late. We bought Wonder Nanny two bunches of flowers.

And upstairs to the  lounge when we got in.  Son 2 toddled up the stairgate, looked up and said “Allo Mama.”  Perfect.  Wonder Nanny and Son 1 both heard it and instantly commented.  His first sentence.  He’s beaten Son 1 to that.  Son 1’s first sentence was “Chocco?  Yeah?” lying on his nappy mat, looking up at me on Easter Bank Holiday Monday, after a day spent stuffing his face with sweets.  Son 1 had about 25 words by the time he was 18 months old.  Son 2 can do Mama, Dadda, Bye bye, allo, a  vowelly version of Son 1’s name, a good shot at Wonder Nanny’s name, na na for crocodile, rah for lion, tiger, dinosaur and bear.  An even louder RAH for parrot (he’s seen a vocal one at the Bird Park) ooo ooo for owl, oo oo (as in book) for dog. Mer for cow. mouth opening and closing for fish, wa wa for duck.  Son 1 had the proper words; Son 2 makes all his up.  i get the feeling no Nursery could stop him singing whatever he likes.

Say Cheese

1.  Darkest Hour 

2.  A Kind Of Blue

3.  White Teeth

Son 2 aged 17m started crying. I looked at the clock. Just before 6am.  It wasn’t really crying.  It was shouting.  Loud, intermittent pre-vocal blasts.  Getting louder and louder. Standing up in his cot, hands hooked over the rail.  I got him up, changed his nappy and gave him a drink of water.  We got past Son 1 aged 4y 5m’s bedroom without waking him and went downstairs to get the drinks and snacks.  It was 5am.  On the positive side, we didn’t have a rush to get to Nursery.  

Nursery.  All the Nursery and Reception children were in their own clothes, in their favourite colours.  All except one.  How do the other Mothers know this?  Every other little child except Son 1, decked out in civvies.  “Oh Navy’s a lovely colour, it’s a kind of blue,” sang out the class teacher as we arrived.  I simply do not know where the communication loop is.  There is a tiny book of dates they hand out at the start of each term.  But that just gets sucked into our Paperwork Vortex where it is probably still spinning, weightless.  They send letters about Parents’ Evenings, and class photos.  Nope. Genuinely baffled.  I picked Son 1 up early for a dentist’s appointment.  The children were clustering for photos in their various colour groups.  The reds were being taken as I arrived.  The blues were rounded up.  1 sent Son 1 over, and he sat cross-legged in the middle of the front row. As the lady said.  Navy’s a kind of blue.

The Dentist was a Good Thing.  I’d pictured the Dentist staring into Son 1’s gaping mouth and spotting craters bombed out by raisins, chocolate, fruit juice and bedtime milk.  Ting ting ting with his little metal proddy thing.  “They’re fine Son 1, what a good boy, would you like a sticker?”  He did me, I was also fine.  The hygienist had a space, did I want go down now?  Yes I did.  Unfortunately poor Son1, who’d already waited for the Dentist for 25 toyless minutes, had reached his limits. Prone in the Big Chair, goggles on, bib on, mouth full of cutlery and teeth getting sandblasted, dug out and polished, I had Son 1 crawling on top of me and lying with his head on my tummy.  “Does it hurt?” he asked. No, said the hygienist, as I couldn’t speak.  At bedtime I said “Were you frightened Mummy was getting hurt?” He nodded sadly.  So I gave him a flash of my sparkling new smile.

Song And Dance

1.  Independence

2.  Insurrection

3.  Initiative

Son 1’s star chart means he stays in his own bed.  But it also means the odd foghorn blast in the early hours. My choice: leave him and face hell unleashed if Son 2 aged 17m wakes up, or go in with him.  I woke up in Son 1’s bed.  Son 2 was calling.  He had his snack, we read, he came in the shower with me.  As I got out, he suddenly cracked how to scoop up water in a tub and pour it in the top of his Winnie-The-Pooh stacking cup tower so that all the water comes out of the elephant’s trunk at the bottom.  He chortled.  He squealed.  He panted. He laughed.   Suddenly he no longer needed to wait till Mummy or Son 1 did it for him.  He could do it himself.  There it was! The water coming out of the trunk! He could put his hand under it! He could collect it in another tub!   He could put his finger over the end of the spout!  All by himself! He sang.  He giggled.  He was magical.

We had five boys under the age of five round this morning. The Three Year Old with a broken arm can’t get sand in his plaster, and probably shouldn’t be climbing over boats in The Museum.   Son 2 stood on his table and nearly bounced off in excitement when Best Friend and Little Brother arrived.   They all played very well, considering what they’re capable of.  Tinkerbell’s head was pulled off by Son 2 before they arrived.  (Every Child Is Different.  Son 1 always went for the wings.)  They played with the Wooden Thomas, the pirates, the castle and the monsters.  Three Year Old and his mother left, the others stayed for lunch.  In the time it took to make, Son 1 and Best Friend had pulled most of his bedroom and all of the lounge to pieces.  Mountains of miscellaneous books, toys and pieces of games spread across the floor.  

Put a sobbing Son 2 to bed, tidied lounge, cleared up lunch things.  Son 2 woke, put him back to bed. Heard Nanna downstairs. She’d  knocked on the door, got no answer, rung the house, Son 1 had answered the phone, and she’d got him to go down and let her in.  Son 2 woke. Tidied Son 2’s room. Started tea.  Son 2 hadn’t slept enough, and was demanding, fragile, clumsy, loud and clingy.  I put the Wiggles on and he loved it. ”Snap Snap”ped to the crocodile, and got up and danced.  He went across to Nanna and held her hands so she’d dance too.  Again, he was absolutely lovely.

Till Sunbeams Find You

1.  Linger Till Dawn

2.  Singing In The Sycamore Tree

3.   Sweet Dreams

A blast from Son 2 aged 17m last night as I went to bed.  I find that hard.  If I’ve worked and finished after 10pm it can be way after 11pm before I go up.  The last thing I need when I just want to go to bed is the Loudest Baby On The Planet cracking the plaster with the force of his yell.  However.  I got him back to sleep in the cot… I left him awake (YEEEELLLLL) and he didn’t disturb me for the rest of the night. 

I woke just before 6am and tiptoed downstairs.  Unloaded dishwasher silently.  No chinking cups at all allowed.  It wakes Son 2.  Coffee.  I made the boys their snacks and drinks, and headed upstairs at first light.  I stopped off in the lounge and sat in the window.  Metallic skies with paintbrush dabs of dark grey in wide swathes… the shining, flat river, with a long, single ship at anchor half way across, the reflected light from its windows forming straight lines down on the surface of the water.  Still, peaceful, tons of birdsong.  I rang The Man.  And then heard a child’s voice upstairs.  I went up.  The light was on in Son 2’s room, the fan was switched on. Son 2 was lying face down, drowsy in the cot.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m was sitting in a “W” on the double bed and looking very pleased with himself.

Home again late, well past Wonder Nanny’s leaving time.  She’d done the baths, the teeth and put them in pyjamas.  “No worries!” she always says brightly.  If it were me I would SEETHE.  She had mended the broken Gormiti.  The Man had arranged for a new Magmion to be delivered to the house, and it was being dropped off, together with a new Series 2 Gormiti  as I got back.  Son 1 went for the Series 2.  A Forest Person.  Can’t remember the name, but it’s vulnerable and anxious and attacks by suddenly being sick on you.   Not unlike Son 2.   Son 1 and I had a mature and mutually-respectful little Learning Discussion about why he wanted the new Magmion when he had already helped himself to the new Gormiti.  Oh all right then, we didn’t.  I called him a Greedy Pig and said he’s not having any more new toys if he can’t be nice when he gets a treat.  He said he won’t ever buy me anything for my birthday and then I will have nothing.  I said I wanted him to come upstairs for bed.  He pulled the mended tail off the old Magmion.   “Best Friend can have this and I will have the new one.”  He lay quietly in bed while I put Son 2 down to sleep so that he can have another star on his chart tomorrow.

Lord Of The Air

1.  First Night Self-Soothing

2.  First Day Back

3.  First Knights Kaput

The boys slept ok, I didn’t.  Son 2 aged 17m woke three times before midnight.  The first time I helped him back to sleep, and put his fan on.  The other two we left him, and he didn’t cry for very long before going back to sleep on his own.  That was a Fantastic Thing, from a child who has months and months of evidence that if he just STANDS IN HIS COT AND SHOUTS VERY LOUDLY FOR LONG ENOUGH HIS MOTHER WILL COME.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke crying after time 3, and I went into bed with him.  I did get back in the Big Bed with The Man eventually, but it felt like I was up a long time.

Back to School.  We left on time and had a relatively painless trip to Nursery.  Back to The Office, which was also ok.  The Colleague we saw at the Swimming Pool yesterday asked about Son 2’s lip.  And I confessed to something I left out of the blog yesterday.  In the Pool, after he’d fallen over and split his lip open for the fourth time since his accident, I was trying to stuff the blood back up Son 2’s nose so the lifeguards wouldn’t see I had a bleeding baby in the water.  I had already paid £2.80 and didn’t want to get out so soon. This parenting technique is apparently not yet in the manuals. 

The Man is off on another Business Trip.  I picked Son 1 up late, hey ho, and tried to make up the half an hour we needed to get back for Wonder Nanny’s leaving time.   Temporary traffic lights in Next Town.  No chance.  When we got in Son 1 had just woken and was crying… Son 2 demanded to be picked up.  Son 1 was clinging on one arm, so Wonder Nanny put Son 2 on the other.  He reached and cuddled Son 1.  Twice.  It was lovely.  Part of the reason Son 1 was crying was he’d lost his new Dragon Fly Gormiti at Nursery.  I gave him another one, A Lord Of The Air.  Situation sort of saved, although Son 1 did love the Dragon Fly.  He took them upstairs to play with at bathtime.  Son 2 picked up Magmion, Lord of the Lava,  ran with it and left it on the bathroom floor.  And I trod on it and broke the tail off.  Situation … er… AFU.

Ten Swans A-Swimming

1.  Swimming Beauties

2.  Swimming Babies

3.  Swimming Boys

A Grim night.  Son 2 aged 17m woke hollering at 0030, and I went to him, switched his fan on (white noise) and helped him back to sleep.  I hadn’t got back to sleep when Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke up, and I went in with him.  When he went back to sleep I went in the double bed in Son 2’s room. I was so wrecked when he woke up that I tried to get him back to sleep.  He refused.  Needed new nappy.  Son 1 arrived.  No chance of getting back to bed.  Looking out at the river while I changed Son 2 I saw 10 swans, seven swimming in a long line, three stragglers bringing up the rear.   A record for the river. Son 1 said something about  seeing a long line of swans a few days ago.

Son 2 was again, uncontainable this morning.  Climbing, pulling things out of drawers, demanding mobile phones and the fancy ear thermometer.  He wriggled down from the bed while I was reading to him and marched off  to the bathroom, patting the taps, tugging at his pyjama top “A-ma.  A-ma.”  He always comes in the shower with me, but I’d already decided we were going to Baby swimming.  He was desperate to get in the pool, swam on the noodle with me, but really wanted to wander off on the tiles without me.  I let him the first time.  Skid. Bang.  Wah.  Huge bump on his head.  Split lip open again.  Blood everywhere.  I mopped him up and we went back in.  A bit more swimming, but then he wanted to get out.  He was asleep in the car seat when we got back to the house, and stayed asleep while I took his coat and shoes off, put him in his sleeping bag and put him in his cot.  

I went back to the Pool with Son 1. Best Friend and his brother were there with their parents.  And a colleague of mine from The Office with his three boys.  And the two boys nannied by Wonder Nanny’s friend.  And Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser and her two boys.  Son 1 played with Best Friend in the spa pools and the main pool.  He went down the Flume twice, me following behind him. Best Friend left. Son 1 played, I followed.  Lovely Chair (I sit on the noodle and he pulls it away; I pretend I don’t know who did it,) Terrible Weather (we sit under surf boards under the big fountain and the water hammers on top,) Killer Whales and Crocodiles.  Back at the house Son 2 had only just woken up and was having lunch.  Afterwards Son 1 made a picture of peacock with the feathers we found on Tuesday.  I was thinking eco-material collage.  Son 1 did his own thing and wouldn’t accept parental guidance.  It was roadkill.

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.

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.

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.