Bees Can’t Fly

1.  Order, Order

2.  Brains And Brawn

3.  Root A Toot

A good night.   A day off. A slow start. Son 1 aged 4y and 6m wanted me to read Mr Men books to him.  He and The Man seemed to think he was banned from telly this morning.  He wasn’t.  But I wasn’t going to let on.  We were still in our pyjamas when Wonder Nanny arrived.  She is very impressed with The Man’s new coat hooks and shelves in the hall, and with the new shelves in Son 2 aged 18m’s room.   There are no longer piles of about 100 books on the floor in Son 1’s room.  I never minded, I thought it added a certain don-ish quality to the place.  But apparently it was Not Normal.   Always, the people who can’t see mess are married to people who see mess when it isn’t there.   For the same reasons bees can’t fly.  

We went to the Bird Park.  We all love it, and I wanted to go places before the schools break up.  “Shall we have a little play and then have some lunch and then see the animals?” said Son 1.  That’s what we always do.  The dear mite and his love of routine again.  (As I often say about The Man.)  Son 2 can go down the baby slide sitting up now.  Son 2 picks up his own mat for the Big Slide.  Son 2 climbs up slopes, climbs up stairs, totters through, tried to get over… anything Son 1 does.  Son 1 is not a fan of Big Slides, but loves doing circuits including a smaller slide, and loved us all doing it together.  I am so glad Son 2 is such a little bruiser.  I always used to think Son 1’s physical caution was related to me being too over-protective.  Along came Son 2, and with one bound Mummy is free…

After lunch Son 2 was fainting with tiredness, so we put him in the Big Pram and wheeled him round to the birds.  He lasted as far as the otters before demanding to get out again. And then he walked down to the farm, hoo-hooing at owls, squawking at parrots and saying “Bye bye” to the cockatoos.  We fed goats and sheep, and sang Baa Baa Black Sheep to the black sheep with the black tongue. Son 2 baa-ed at them.  I put him back in the pram and he finally nodded off.   Son 1 prowled and ran round to the penguins.  Sat demurely on the wall. Got picked to feed them.  On the way back we stopped off at a big M and S looking for shoes.  We finally found a pair of flashing trainers that fit. Not quite what I wanted, but Son 1 is happy.

I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing

1.  Far Away And Dreaming

2.  Smile While You Are Sleeping

3.  A Moment I Treasure

An undisturbed night, and The Man and I woke before the boys.  We went downstairs, eventually Son 1 aged 4y 6m wailed. The Man went up. I followed with drinks and snacks. They were in Son 1’s bed. I got in too.  Me: “There were three in a bed and the little one said – ” Son 1: “I’ll just go and get Son 2.”  Me and The Man:  “NOOOOOOO!”  I read three library books to Son 1. He eventually went to peek at Son 2 aged 18m.   And he was UP.  Sleepy and hot, standing up in the cot, gripping the rail and smiling and laughing.  The Man took Son 1 downstairs for telly, Son 2 and I read. 

Breakfast. The Wiggles.  Thomas Wooden Railway. Every piece we own, and we own a lot.  The Man wanted to go to the Big Town, so off we drove.  The boys fell asleep in the car, so we drove down to the Big Town’s park, left them sleeping and went and got takeaway coffees. I sat outside the kiosk with the paper, The Man looked at the boats in the river.  Sunny, with a cold breeze.  Cawing rooks. We parked for shopping, the boys woke. I took them on the Merry-Go-Round. We met colleagues from The Office who’ve had an incredibly worrying time with their two-year-old.  Some very important tests have come back negative.  The Best Thing.   We walked Son 2 on his reins and he chuckled and called and kept stopping to pat the pavement.  We looked unsuccessfully for shoes for Son 1. He wanted shoes with toys in the heels; or Ben 10 shoes. He has long narrow feet. Nothing fitted.  We have to find something soon because his trainers just don’t fit him any more.

On the way back Son 1 was holding Son 2’s hand in the car, and the air was filled with burbling baby giggles and hearty little boy laughter.   They kicked off their shoes and took off their socks and I tickled their feet with Five Little Piggies, and Round And Round The Garden.  More peels of magical baby chortles.  “I don’t want to be tickled any more Mummy, I need a nice rest,” said Son 1.   So did I.  The Man did pizza for tea, and we had them in bed and asleep by 1830 old time.

Feathers In The Playdough

1. Soaking

2.  Nesting

3.  Choices

I had a bath.  Door closed. Several drops of Tea tree oil.  I have a stinking cold, and The Man entertained the boys this morning while I soaked and steamed.  It was great. Younger Sister gave me a very nice bottle of bubble bath for my birthday last year and I’ve only just finished it.  I never get near the bath. Just showers. With one or two boys at my feet, playing in the water collecting with the plug in.  Or with the plug out. If they like.   I used to be very into aromatherapy, but then I had a godawful cold lasting about three weeks, and afterwards I had no sense of smell. About 6 years ago.  No-one minded except me. I saw a consultant privately: “Oh sometimes you get catastrophic nerve damage with upper respiratory infections. There isn’t anything anyone can do.”  So. I still can’t really smell anything, but I had a tea tree oil bath last time I felt fluey and the bug wandered off again.  I’ve been putting lavender oil on Son 1 aged 4 y 6m’s pillow, and Son 2 aged 18m’s sleeping bag, and, unarguably,  they have been sleeping better.  And this morning I was wrecked and wretched, but able to function after my bath. Even though I can’t smell.   I am reconverted. I think you’re supposed to alternate camomile with lavender for sleep problems, because in the end your system gets used to the oils and they won’t work as well. But can I use it on children?  I never learnt that Before.  

The Man is stressed, so he was building shelves all day.  Under pressure,  it is usually sheds, but sometimes shelving. Or compulsive tidying.  We now have a new shoe and coat rack in the hall.  Hooks expected any day now.  He’s also made a mammoth book shelf in Son 2’s room for all the childrnen’s books. While he went to B and Q and Jewson, we played.  Playdough mainly.  Son 1 was engrossed in operation: making little shapes that the patient had eaten.  Earlier, his game had been scratching in an ink pad with a feather to try writing.  Son 2 was now pressing the feather into a big lump of red playdough.  Then he was waddling around with the playdough under his sock and the feather stuck to his foot by the playdough.

The boys and I went to the library.  I’n’t Libraries Great? They just are.  I apologised for our 14 books. ”It’s ok, it’s 18 per ticket.”  Son 1 had a book that I said we shouldn’t get. He took it over to the scanning machine and put it in the tray. “Mummy bring me the ticket!” Won’t be long before he can download all my pictures and back up my blog for me.   Of course we took out the book he wanted.  Nanna came over.  Son 2 took one look at her, did his dance and pointed upstairs.  = “Shall we watch The Wiggles?”  He cried when the DVD finished.  I made Jamie Oliver fish pie for all. Reasonably successful, although Son 1 has decided he doesn’t like prawns. He had two helpings of cabbage though. Paragon sticker to him.

Nanna waited after bedtime and The Man and I went out for a drink. I had a champagne cocktail to celebrate being back at work a year.

A Year In Cyberspace

1.  Writing

2.  Talking

3.  Reading

I have been back at The Office, full-time, for One Whole Year.  I just read my blogs from March last year.  Pang.  Little six-month-old Son 2.  I know I’ve done brilliantly keeping at work, keeping well, keeping everything together and keeping time with the boys sacred.  Keeping at The Blog, which I think has helped ward off depression.   But Pang Oh Pang.  You really don’t get it back, do you?  Thankfully I have a week off now, which is why I’m writing this so late. It always takes me forever to finish on Fridays before I have leave.  Stinking cold.  Exhausted. And I’ve been reading a year ago, when I was hoping to get back into my pre-pregnancy clothes.  Wouldn’t it be great if you lost weight wnen you cut down on your sleep?  Much fairer to mothers.

Little 18 month old Son 2 is sliding down the stairs on his tummy now.  Fast. With a daredevil grin.  A year ago he was just on solids, and just had his first teeth.  Now he wants the Wiggles on the telly, he wants a smoothie from the shopping, he can say bear, and ba (for bath, sheep and ball) and dum dum for dump truck and di di for digger.  And bye bye and mama and hallo, and mi for milk. And snap snap for crocodile. Accompanied by a dance. And a point at the DVD pile. 

Son 1 aged 4 y 6m finished at Nursery for Easter today.  He lay on his bed this evening and looked up at his animal alphabet wall chart, sounding out the start of all the letters.  Foxed a bit by N. And baffled by Q.  He also for the first time stopped me in a story to sound out the letters of a word m-on- k-ey.  I was thrilled, but none of it is anything to do with me.  I’ve deliberately not taught him to read because I Do Not Believe In Forcing Boys To Read Too Early. It Will Put Them Off.  Nothing to do with never having a minute to sit down with him.  26 letters and 40ish sounds?   I haven’t got the time.  Just that year.  Sitting in cyberspace. Maybe one day he’ll read about himself.

Bright Sides

1.  Brothers At Dawn

2.  Museum Visit

3.  Paperwork

Very late, so very fast.  An ok night, The Man went prowling just before 6am, and Son 2 aged 18m started to cry at about 0630. And then he just did his little barks.   I went down to find both lights on, Son 1 aged 4y 6m on the big bed, and Son 2 still lying on his tummy in the cot, sleepy red in the race, looking divinely cute. I put him on the bed for a cuddle with Son 1 and they were the sweetest little things, lots of cuddles and kisses.  They do seem to love each other so much. I hope it lasts.

To The Museum with the Wednesday Friends. Not our most successful visit.  Son 2 kept trying to emigrate so I walked miles after him.  And of course he gets a ride home in the Big Pram. He only slept for about 20 minutes and I could not get him to go back to sleep when we got back to the house.  Son 1 woke him; I coughed;  Son 1 coughed. I gave up and let him get up, knowing there would be a meltdown by tea time.  There was.  However. On the  bright side.  We had asparagus in the Veg Box and both boys ate it at tea time – Son 1 asked for seconds. I consider this a triumph of Mummy Might.  An unidentified green vegetable lands on both their plates and they both try it and eat it.

After bedtime The Man and I did the filing.  I cannot say how overdue this has been.  But we have a Mortgage Offer, 11 months after our last deal expired.  And Son 1 has a place at a nice primary school so we need to work out what we’re doing about him.  And I’m kind of hopeful that if we managed to do it by cracking down and cracking on this evening, we might possibly be able to keep on top of it a bit better in future.

She Can Run The Pants Off A Kangaroo

1.  Action Man

2.  Crikey

3.  She Can’t Fly But I’m Telling You…

0605.  Son 2 aged 18m.  The usual. Downstairs for snacks and drinks.   Son 2 stopped off in the lounge.  Doing his little jig.  Over to the shelf with the DVDs on. Pointing. “Mama.”  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s put The Wiggles on.”   In the kitchen he disappeared out the back by the washing machine.  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s go outside.”   Back upstairs The Man had a shower and first Son 1 aged 4y 6m, and then Son 2, got in and joined him.  And then they were back in the lounge. Both boys played with The Wooden Railway and I put The Wiggles on for Son 2. 

The boys went to the Aquarium today with Wonder Nanny, her Nanny friend, and the two little boys she looks after.  They went around twice.  They touched rays’ eggs and lobsters.  They saw the giant octopus out of its tank.  Son 2 loved it.  I came in just as the boys were finishing their tea. Son 1 acted out the giant octopus.  Son 2 tried to Go Outside.  “Can we play Pirate Snakes And Ladders now?” Son 1 asked Wonder Nanny.  We looked blank. “On top of my wardrobe.” Son 1 said helpfully.  “Where did we get Pirate Snakes and Ladders?” I asked. “When I was four.  From Best Friend.” “Have we played with it since then?” “Not for a long long time.”  I went up to the big bedroom and burrowed in the eave.  Son 1 did indeed get some presents for his birthday (and for Christmas) which we put away almost as soon as they were unwraped because he had so many.  He’d seen the Snakes and Ladder set in the Aquarium shop, and remembered it from six months back.   Crikey.

Son 2 howling with temper and tiredness at bedtime, so I picked digger books to make him feel better.  “Di Di Di Di” he now says when he sees the digger page.  “dum dum dum” for the dump trucks.  The words are coming through.  His bye bye is strange – a perfectly formed adult phrase delivered in an adult tone.  I will do another list of words.  I am still putting my head right into his cot to help send him off to sleep.  He has started slinging his arms round my neck, grabbing my hair and pulling me close.  I don’t see enough of him.  wednesday tomorrow, which is a Good Thing. And I got out for a run, which is another.

Rules For Mother’s Day

1.  Rule Number One

2.  Rules Two And Three

3.  Rule Four

Yesterday I ordered from The Man: 1) A Lie In  2)  Breakfast In Bed (scrambled egg on toast.) 3) A Long Bubble Bath With No Children In it. 

Son 2 aged 18m woke up at 0530.  Screaming.  Hungry. Feverish. Exhausted.  “Mama.”  I trailed downstairs after them, and Son 2 clung while The Man sorted him a Tub of Grub.  I had a Mother’s Day card from each of them. Son 1 aged 4y 6m came down, another one from him.  I had already been to the Boots Lancome counter and bought myself two items so I could also have a free gift.  Mother’s Day Rule Number One.  Avoid Disappointment, Buy Your Own Present.  We all went upstairs to the Big Bed and I got in, pulled the covers over me and lay down.  Son 1 stuck Ben 10 stickers a book he was given yesterday at his party.  Son 2 played with the Duplo with The Man.  The Man closed the blinds and tried to put Son 2 in the bed with me, saying he was so tired he’d go to sleep.  Son 2 refused.  They all went downstairs.  I dozed off.  I was on The Beach with Son 2 playing at the water’s edge. A mist came in, and I said we’d better pack up. The mist turned to snow, everywhere. I couldn’t see  Son 2 but there were snow ploughs in the ditch where I’d last seen him.  An oblongy snowball was skidding down the road but he wasn’t in it.  “Mummy. Son 2 fell off the chair and you’ve got to come.”  A little head at the side of the bed.  I went downstairs.  Made my own breakfast.  I did get a bubble bath, but the children went mad because they weren’t allowed in it.  As I read my magazine, The Man tried to put Son 2 to bed next door.  And Son 2 refused to go…

I had booked lunch for us all at The Peacock Playground.  Complimentary skincare sample, organic fudge and free entry for mothers. Rule Number Two.  Avoid Disappointment, Make Your Own Lunch Arrangements.  We went to pick up Nanna.  We arrived and took the boys to the playground.  They played; the peacocks patrolled.  The Man and Nanna sat in the sun.  I climbed up ladders, slid down slides, swung on swings, climbed through tunnels, lifted up, helped down and held on.  In for lunch, and they brought the boys’ hot dogs straight away. A new mark of a good restaurant for me: do they get the urgency of bringing food for the  children NOW.  It all took a while, but Son 1 dived in and out through the sliding doors next to us, checking his stick, chasing peacocks, sitting on a wall.  They stuffed themselves with their pudding, our pudding and the organic fudge.  The Man got very bored with having to look after Son 2 while he was eating his own meal.  Rule Number Three: The Mother’s Day is the only day you can act like Father.  All Day Long. 

We walked down to the lake afterwards.  Son 1 and I played Pooh Sticks every time a stream ran under a bridge.  He loved it.  Son 1 started off with the biggest sticks, and soon realised the smaller ones win.  He leaned over edges, through railings and off bridges.  Absolutely no concept of danger. I hadn’t been down to the bottom of the garden since I dropped Son 2 on his head when he was 4 months old.  (Laid him down in pram asleep after screaming reflux episode, didn’t dare strap him in case he woke up. 30 minutes later, had forgotten I hadn’t strapped him in.  Took pram up flight of steep concrete steps.  Baby slid out like he’d been fired from a peashooter.  Overnight in hospital.  His head was fine. But they got very tired of mopping up the sick, and they gave us a paediatrician and dietician who eventually sorted out his reflux.)  It was very strange passing The Steps, seeing The Tree where a pic of Son 1 had been taken afterwards, seeing the bench we sat on to peer at Son 2’s head… remembering the sick feeling inside as we marched back to take him to the MIU.  Son 1 walked miles, and was soon fast asleep in the car.  Son 2 stayed awake till after we’d dropped Nanna off.  We parked near the house, and The Man brought me a cup of tea and the Sunday papers to read in the car while the boys slept. Rule Four: When Opportunity Knocks, Ask For A Cup Of Tea.

Merriment And What-Not

1.  The Planning

2.  The Party

3.  The Power

Son 1 aged 4y 5m slid into bed in the night.  Son 2 aged 18m woke early and cried.  The Man went down to him to try to get him back to sleep.  ”Mama!” cried Son 2.  I was undone and got up. He wasn’t well.  Temperature, snotty, dry cough.  He felt wretched. He flopped. He clung. He cried.  I tookhim downstairs and it took Ibuprofen, Calpol, milk, raisins and a yoghurt to cheer him up.  Son 1 woke up “Is it my special day?”  In January, I made the mistake of telling Son 1 that when he and Son 2 were older, instead of having one joint party to celebrate their birthdays in September, we would probably start having a party in Spring as well.  From that moment onwards he scouted venues like a bride-to-be. “Shall I choose here for my Spring Party?” We chose the Bird Park.  

The first Good Thing was that The Bird Park was expecting us.  They were supposed to ring this week to confirm… they didn’t, and I didn’t have time to check.  The weather was fab, the boys slept in the car on the way, we pulled into the car park and remembered we’d left the Ben 10 cake at home, half an hour’s drive away.  I had steered Son 1 away from the idea of balloons, party bags, a bouncy castle and presents, but I had promised a cake with candles.  The Man tore off in search of another.  The guests arrived, the children played.  Son 2 stood on the airjets in the Ball Pool, his teeshirt and long fringe blowing upwards. The hair on the top of his head was glued down with Bio Oil and didn’t move.  (I have been reading Mumsnet Talk cures for cradle cap.)  We had 12 Boys and 1 Girl.  The Girl (aged 3) wanted to look after Son 2.  We went on the Big Slide.  Son 2 loved it, and pointed back up. “Again?” I asked.  Mad nodding.  The Girl was a revelation.  She picked up a mat and handed it to me, smoothed our our mat at the top of the slide before Son 2 and I got on it, and checked we were all right at the end.  She picked up litter.  She waited for us.  An amazing insight into another world.

Lunch was wolfed.  Ice cream and chocolate cake also.  Son 1 went back to play.  I had a coffee and Son 2 was looked after outside on the balcony by The Man.  We went out to the animals.  The selection is red pandas, otters, owls, parrots, cockatoos, macaus, hornbills, rabbits, guinea pigs, sheep, goats… Son 2 stood and stared at the little dump truck re-building the outdoor playground. “Dum Dum Dum” he said.  “Di Di Di” he said at the diggers.  Just as I wondered what we’ll have in common when he’s older, he hoo hoo-ed at the owls. Down by the goats, he wouldn’t let Little Girl hold his reins.  Son 2 doesn’t realise the reins are to stop him running off.  He thinks they’re to keep Mummy close while he explores. We charged to the penguins for feeding time.  Packed, three deep.  I lifted Son 1 over the top and he was picked to feed them.  He was wearing a bright red Power Ranger outfit.  Best Friend didn’t even get near and was sobbing.  I promised him we would come back on a quiet day and I would make sure he was picked.  Goody, hooray.  I love the Bird Park.

The Spring Concert

1.  Rising

2.  Shining

3.  Sinking

The Man slept with Son 2 aged 18m last night.  Son 2 started crying at 5.30am. “Mama.” I went downstairs. “Watch out,” hissed The Man. “Son 1’s in here as well.  I’ll take him upstairs.”  Son 1 aged 4y 5m was staying with Son 2 and Mummy.  I lay in the double bed, with one of them on each arm. They dozed.  A quiet moment of loveliness. The Man shifted position.  Son 2 woke up.  Son 2 was getting up. And so were we.  We made it out of the house on time, leaving The Man with the responsibility of posting the cards for Teenaged Niece’s 18th birthday tomorrow.

I managed to combine my trip to The City with Son 1’s Spring Play.  An hour and a half on the road,  a productive morning, and then haring back.  Within the speed limit of course.   A beautiful morning and afternoon, very pleasant walking down to the Nursery.  Loads of parents sitting near the front.  I picked a pair of chairs at the back, next to Year 4’s cubist collages on the wall.  The Man arrived.  The children filed in and Son 1’s face lit up when he saw us.  “Where’s my brother?” he asked.  Son 1 was of course Talented and Marvellous.  I waved.  He waved back.    All show long.  Even The Man was at it.  A tot of about 20m or so made friends with The Man.  Laid his head on his leg.  patted his tummy, played with his watch and chatted up at him.  The Man was petrified and kept hissing: “Go to your mummy.” Little One wandered off, but tottered back, again and again.  On stage, Son 1 asked “Mummy where’s Son 2?” .The children sang the song about Mummy doing the shopping and the washing and the cooking Because She Loves Us.  I asked Son 1 if he’d sung the verse I’d taught him, where Mummy works full-time and has two degrees.  ”Mummy has two deggees,” he obligingly warbled.  

Son 2 was back home with Wonder Nanny.  We arrived home and he laughed and laughed. This morning he did bah for bath (and ball,) and di di di for Diggers are good at dig dig digging.  Wonder Nanny said he’d been playing with his ambulance, and then stood up and patted his bottom. “Have you done a poo?” she’d asked.  Mad nodding. I think the mad nodding also now comes with an “issss.”  He was tired, and clingy and fretful.  He’s got a horrible cough and a cold.  Just when we’ve got a big weekend planned.  And I’ve got a horrible feeling that Teenaged Niece’s 18th birthday may have been today.

Substitutes

1.  A Hard Day’s Night

2.  This Will Be The Last Time

3.  You Really Got Me

Son 1 aged 4y 5m was in with me all night.  He’s always allowed the night before The Man comes home.  He is a heat-seeking missile who cannot be stayed from his course.  He is in bed to snug with Mummy, to lie against me and feel my eyebrows.  (Used to do it when he was breastfeeding.  Has never stopped.  Does it when he’s asleep. In my absence anyone’s eyebrows will do.  Also does it on Son 2 aged 18m.)  Son 2 aged 18m slept through, but woke at 6am.  I put his fan on (white noise) and got into the double bed with him.  He dozed.  Then he woke, cried, and wanted his sleeping bag removed.  I took it off.  He slithered out of bed, onto the floor, and off he went on his own.  ”Mummy’s staying in bed.” I said.  “Bye bye,” he said, stopping only to pull the blankets off the chair as he went past, opened the door and went out onto the landing in the dark.  He had the grace to totter back again and stand in the doorway.  “Mama.”  Ha.  Yes I had to get up but I think I still won on goal difference. 

We went to the New Play Centre.  On the positive side  (I Do Not Like The New Play Centre)  Son 1 had a blast, playing with Best Friend, Best Friend’s brother and another boy they know, Son 2 loved it.  He loved the Ball Pools, he loved being pushed around the baby area in a Little Tikes ride on car, he loved walking over the rope bridge, he loved playing with the sponge ball cannons, he loved rolling and climbing and sliding and pushing and just generally Being Big.  Son 1 was hilarious when I told him we weren’t buying lunch there. “Is that your tricking voice?”  No darling, they have again annoyed me and I shan’t be giving them any more money.  How do you explain the concept of a boycott to a four year old who wants sausage and chips.

Back home we had a good time. The boys ate their picnic lunches.  I got out some ham. It was smoked, and I’d bought 2 packets. “Try it, and if you don’t like it I’ll give it to Nanna.”  They wolfed it.  We played with the Wooden Railway.  Son 2 did a poo so big it went up to his neck.  Too much information, sorry.  But there was a big part of a crayon in his nappy.   He wears a one-piece vest.  His nappy tabs are fastened too tight for a crayon that size to fall down.  If something was blocking the tubes, that would account for the sheer volume when it came out.  But if Son 2 had swallowed that crayon he would have choked.  So how did it get there?  

Nanna arrived.  Son 2 wanted to watch The Wiggles again.  I booked tickets for The Wiggles.  Nanna will come.  I made Veggie Mince and tomato sauce.  Son 1 didn’t want the Veggie Mince.  But then ate it all.  A real breakthrough, offering  the possibility that I may be able to eat the same as them.  “Shall we try Daddy on this?” I asked Son 1.  “Daddy won’t eat Veggie Mince,” he said wisely.  The Man came home.  Nanna waved goodbye to Son 2 in the bath.  “Bye Bye,” he said.