Sweeties

1.  Drumming Down

2.  Splashing Round

3.  Switching On

Kept awake from 2am by thundering rain pelleting down on the velux window.  In the end I went down to the Big Bed. Still couldn’t sleep. Went downstairs. Made a cup of tea. Read paper. Hung washing out. Made another cup of tea. Went back to Double Bed. Still couldn’t sleep.  Son 2 aged 2y 2m wailed “Mummeee!” and I went and got him. “Where are you taking him?” asked a sleepy Son 1 aged 5y 2m. “Next door,” I said. “You can come if you want.” It was past 5am, and I figured I was so tired that I’d fall asleep deeply, they’d fall asleep deeply and then we’d all get a lie in.  I lay in the middle. Son 2 was lightly asleep. Son 1 eyebrowed me madly.   And still I couldn’t sleep. I must have in the end, because Son 2’s chatter woke me. “Get me out!” I couldn’t lift my head from the pillow. “Son 1, go and unzip Son 2’s sleeping bag.” “I can’t. I can’t do the zip.” “You can do zips. Go and let him out.” Son 1 tried. He couldn’t. “Oh just leave him then.” “Waaaaaaaa!”  I unzipped it. Son 2 reached for the light switch. “No! If you want the light on, go somewhere else.” They both slid away. I heard them unwrapping plastic on the landing. The Sweet Shop.

The Man did the Sweet Shop, and I stayed in bed. He brought me coffee at 0845. The Sweet Shop – full of jelly tots, dolly mixtures and wine gums – had been removed and put away.  Son 1 stomped up and down with the box. “We want our Sweet Shop back.”  We did a deal. I took out the sweets, and replaced them with Cheerios,  pine nuts, cubes of cheese, cubes of apple and hula hoops.  I put raisins and Coco Pop balls in the little jars. This was the new sweet shop.  It all went. Except the pine nuts.  On the phone to Granny, Son 1 laughed. “We’ve got a new sweet shop only we haven’t sold any sweets. We just eated them up.”  The rain hammered down. I put on my New York Marathon 2002 gilet and went running. Wet and splashy. I am now running 5 mins, walking 2.5 mins, four times.  One of my walking sections took me to the Rock Pool Beach, so down I went. The waves were loud, the rain was falling, there were piles of sodden, sopping seaweed everywhere. Just a few dog walkers and me. 

When I came back The Man had made a stew for tea and the children were still watching telly. We took them out for a walk and some air, came back, had lunch, watched more telly. Then we went into The Town for the Christmas Lights switch on.  Lanterns, children, street hawkers, Santa, and rain. Lots of rain. Son 1 went shyly up to Santa, who gave him a sweet. “Can I have one for Son 2 please? He’s my little brother.” He was given another. Son 2 was asleep. Son 1 ate it. At the end of the evening, when Son 2 was awake, we saw Santa again and again, he dished out chocolates. ”I daw Nan Ta,” Son 2 said over and over. “What do you want Santa to bring you, Son 2?” I asked. ”An An”  “Animals?” “Yes.” ”What sort of animals?” “Tye Tye. I like Tye Tye.”  Pity. Santa’s already  bought him a farm.

I’m So Tired

1.  You And Your Kin

2.  Kindred Spirits

3.  King Pin

4.  Next Of Kin

We were up early, again.  Heading on out to the Big City to see Lazy Town Live. Son 1 aged 5y 2m was in charge of costumes, and trashed his room with his dressing up box, pulling it apart to find all the bits of Sportacus and Robbie Rotten.  There was no question about who was going to be Sportacus.  All very different from another trip to Lazy Town way back when I started writing this: lazytown live.  In the kitchen,  Son 1 danced to the tunes that blare out from the Sportacus music box in his costume; Son 2 aged 2y 2m, wearing a Robbie waistcoat, bounced around with him. They held hands, stomped their feet and laughed their heads off.  The Man and I flew about like bats in a barrel.  Dress the boys, feed the boys, washing on, teeth, clear up, food for the theatre, swimming kits, food for after swimming, load the car… The Big City is a two hour drive away. Son 2 sat pressing the buttons on the Sportacus music box again and again and again and again. “Wel-come to Lazy Town, the place where you wanna beee!” “You’re so strong!” “Someone’s in trouble!”  The first time he dropped it, I gave it back to him. The second time, it stayed on the floor.     

The Show was great.  I loved the number of two-boy families with First as Sportacus, and toddler Second as Robbie.  I loved the fact that we’ve escaped pink wigs.   Son 1 – who refused to dress up, leaving his costume in a carrier bag -  danced, shouted and yelled “Behind You!”  Son 2, in his waistcoat and tricorn pirate hat,  sat on my knee and never took his eyes off the stage.  The Man stayed awake.  Sportacus could do one handed cartwheels.  Robbie Rotten stole it.  Ours has been a Pirate House for nearly three years, so  ”Yo Ho Fiddle De Dee, Being A Pirate Is All Right With Me” has been part of our world since before Son 2 was born.  And boy, am I on Robbie’s side. What’s not to like about someone who’s exhausted,  and only wants the children to give him peace and quiet so he can have a sit down in a comfy chair?  Stephanie broke into “Bing Bang” and Son 1 said “Good, it’s the last one, let’s go.” “Go where?” I said, baffled.  “Swimming,” he said. 

We have been to the Big City Theatre twice, first to see the wiggles, and then to see scooby doo. Each time, Son 1 has pressed his little boy face against the viewing glass of a big Fun Pool, looking and longing.  My pland was to watch Lazy Town, have lunch and then have a swim.  Son 1 wanted to go Straight There. We went. There was a snake flume and fountains and a pirate ship and a baby pool with a slide and both boys walked in delight from jet to spray to gadget. I was with Son 2, and he played and played with the fountains and showers and bubbles and waves. He swam, he jumped, he slid, he smiled. He found if he stuck his fingers in the pipes he could spray Mummy.  Fantastic. The Man chased Son 1; Son 1 chased The Man. ”I wan’ ge’ changed” Son 2 said.  Son 1 wanted Mummy to stay. We played hide and seek, crocodiles, Son 1 went on the flume. Eventually I got him out . “We’re going to come back here every day.”

Then we went to Toys R Us and the boys agreed to share a toy sweet shop with real sweets. It was a beautiful piece of collaborative  working. But they’re not allowed it till tomorrow. Everything else was Ideas For Santa. Lego for Son 1, and it has to be Scarey. Not interested in vehicles or traditional brick sets. Back in the car we drove in a rainstorm. It was 4pm and The Man and I had eaten nothing all day, so we stopped off at a Burger King. Son 1 slept. Son 2 was awake all the way home.  I am now blogging on the sofa. The Man is watching The X Factor.  I feel like I’ve staggered across the finishing line in a marathon, and I want someone to give me a medal and a goody bag, and wrap a big sheet of aluminium foil around me.

Thanksgiving

1. Here Comes The Son

2. A Long Cold Lonely Winter

3. The Ice Is Slowly Melting

Jackie Paper Came Back.  He’s got his Gormiti Egg and his Turtle Guy, so who cares about sticker charts? Into the Big Bed at 2am.  What a waste of wistfulness. Squashed between Son 1 aged 5y 2m and The Man, and boiling hot, I clambered out and went downstairs to the Double Bed.  The Man followed later. Son 2 aged 2y 2m cried in his cot. The Man went and got him, and laid him down next to me. He pressed his soft little toddler face next to mine and went back to sleep.  

Many hours and hundreds of miles later, The Man and I were at the Aged Aunt’s funeral.  Also there: Eldest Brother, Grown Up Nephew, Grown Up Niece and her husband, Elder Brother, Sister In Law and Teenaged Niece, and Younger Sister and Godfather 2.   Lots of elderly people, lifelong friends of the Aged Aunt and my late father.   Elder Sister has cellulitis and couldn’t go.  Nanna also stayed away.  Eldest Brother, the child of my father’s first marriage, was brought up by the Aged Aunt.  Don’t Ask.   The vicar said we were Giving Thanks For and Celebrating the Life of the Aged Aunt. The churchyard was closed for burials years ago, but they made an exception for her because she wanted to be buried near her parents and her grandfather.  My father’s ashes are buried in our grandparents’ grave.  As are the ashes of Younger Brother, whose death, 10 days before my 30th birthday, wrecked everyone’s lives for years and years.   Don’t Ask. Again.  There is a lot of Stuff in our family.

Elder Brother, Sister In Law, Younger Sister, Godfather 2, Teenaged Niece, The Man and I lingered in the churchyard afterwards. The Aged Aunt’s grave was covered in flowers.  We wanted some for her, and for the Other Grave.  We walked over to a nearby florist, and everyone chose some.  Sea Holly from Younger Sister.  Cyclamen plants from Sister In Law and Teenaged Niece. Red Roses from Elder Brother.  Michaelmas Daisies from me – our childhood garden was always full of them at this time of year.  We laid them on the graves, and then walked across the town to Grown Up Niece’s house for tea and sandwiches.  We were kept away from Eldest Brother as children – yet more Stuff – and only got to know each other as adults.  I see much less of them than everyone else… I moved a long way away, a long time ago.  It was good to be there.  The Man and I drove all the way back again as night fell.  Heavy showers hammered down on the windscreen as we crossed  pitch black moorlands on the way home.  And I thought about the flowers on the graves, in the dark, in the rain.

Motivation

1.  Effort

2.  Results

3.  Reward

The Man let me lie in till 7am.  ”Well done for staying in your bed again Son 1!” I beamed, as I went downstairs to where he was eating his breakfast.  He beamed back. “I’ve got a sticker.  And I’m eating two breakfasts.”  ”He’s already eaten a pancake,” said The Man.  You will remember yesterday that Son 1 aged 5y 2m had four stickers to go on the breakfast line of his sticker chart.  This morning he had two.  Hence the bowl of cereal as well as the pancake.  You will also note that this process would not stand scrutiny by the Electoral Commission.  At some point yesterday, an extra sticker was stuck on the breakfast line. It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t The Man.  We don’t care; Son 1 has never in his life stuffed himself at breakfast time.   Yes I know, all your children  tuck in gratefully to rolled oats and wheatgerm with slivers of dried apricot and ground linseeds sprinkled on top.  Ours have Coco Pops Moon and Stars because we have tried EVERYTHING to get Son 1 to eat before he goes out for his 10-hour school day.  Sometimes he can’t be bothered to add milk and eats a few dry from the bowl. Sometimes he doesn’t touch them, and drinks the chocolate milk they make after soaking. And now he eats two breakfasts. Hooray.

Son 2 aged 2y 2m and I went to the Town Pool for a swim with the Wednesday Mums. Really good. I do like swimming with small children.  It’s so easy and stress-free.  The water was cold, so Son 2 headed for the Bubble Pools.  I’m a bit wary of these, as there was a lot of  “spa baths cause scarlet fever” anecdotes pinging round when Son 1 was ill. But Son 2 loves them.  He was playing with a green sea horse. I took my eye off him for a couple of seconds. “Where my see ‘orse?” It had vanished.  ”I don’t know, where is your sea horse, what have you done with it?”  I looked over the side into the swimming pool. I peered into the foaming depths of the bubble bath. I squinted along the channel running round the outside.  There was a gap in the cover.   We went back into the big pool and I told a lifeguard.  Two of them dismantled the filter and found the sea horse. Son 2 had posted it through the gap.  He swam, he played with a surf board, and he was a joy to be with.  After an hour we all got out and went for a coffee in a hotel.  The boys were all horrible, climbing over sofas and running up and down. We consoled ourselves with the thought that things would have been much worse with the elder three around. 

The Man collected Son 1 from school, because we were meeting Elder Brother and Nanna for pizza in Town. The phone rang.  Son 1. “Daddy hasn’t brought my Gormiti Egg.” “Oh dear,” I said. “It was Daddy’s job to get it.” “He says he didn’t know it was his job.”  “Silly Old Daddy.”  We agreed they would head for the other end of Town so they could get a Gormiti Egg. I’d push Son 2 in the Big Pram to see if he would sleep, and we’d see Nanna and Elder Brother in Pizza Express.  I pushed, Son 2 slept, we met the others. Son 1 turned up with his Gormiti Egg. £6. I thought it was like a Kinder Egg.  Oh boy. I am being seriously out-classed here.  Son 1 ate his food, Son 2 woke half way through and cried and grumbled. Elder Brother is leaving very early tomorrow to get to the Aged Aunt’s funeral. The Man and I were planning to drop Son 1 off at School and then drive over. We have booked Wonder Nanny to do tea, bath and bedtime.  Elder Brother says it could take six hours to get there.  Oh boy.

Tags:

I Love You Blue Kangaroo

1.  One Grey Night

2.  Frolics In The Autumn Mist

3.  Along The Cherry Lane

I have read all the books, so of course I didn’t dwell on the bed-wetting. But last night I couldn’t resist: “You have to try and have another wee because if you wet the Big Bed again I will never let you sleep there again.”  Oops. It slipped out. I woke up at 4am and  there was no Son 1 aged 5y 2m.  And I hated it. My little warm cuddly adoring teddy wasn’t there.  All kinds of things flashed round my head. One Grey Night It Happened. Jackie Paper Came No More. Son 1, lying awake in his bed downstairs, too scared to come up.  “They won’t be doing it when they’re twenty…”  I wanted to go down and get him and bring him up.  I didn’t, because I thought The Man would kill me.  And more annoyingly, he’d get off for my Contributory Negligence, with this blog providing the evidence for the defence.

I went down at 0615 and Son 1 was instantly in the kitchen doorway.  “Well done, Son 1, for staying in your bed all night.”  He chose a gold star sticker and I lifted him up to the chart on the fridge.  He has 10 squares in each line.  His gold star was his third for Staying In His Bed.  He has 6 stickers on his Eating Up  All His Breakfast line.  “Can I have a Gormiti Egg when I’ve collected all my stickers?” “Yes of course you can.”  He stared at the chart. “Can I have four breakfasts?” “If you eat your first breakfast, you can have another one.”  Son 2 aged 2y 2m came down, gorgeous, smiling, wanting to be fed Coco Pops. ”Can you watch the Wizard Of Oz with me because I’m only five and I need someone to tell me what’s happening.” asked Son 1. “I can’t watch it because I have too many jobs to do. But you can if you eat your breakfast.”  “Ow,” said Son 2. “I don’ wan’ wot Wiz Ov.  I don’ like i’”  They settled on the Aristocats.

i couldn’t let it lie.  In the car, on the way to School, I had to ask: “Did you stay in your bed last night because you were fast asleep, or did you wake up and decide you weren’t going to come and see Mummy?” “I was fast asleep,” he said.  It was dark when I picked him up, and I’d remembered the torch he’d been pestering me for.  He loved it, holding it carefully and pointing at his feet in the pitch black all the way up the Muddy Path. He slept in the car on the way back, and back in the House, Son 2 chortled as he came down the stairs. After we’d put Son 2 to bed, I read to Son 1. “I’ll just go and have another wee,” he said. “To make sure.”

Services

1.  Overnight Laundry

2.  Overseas Post 

3.  Overtime Request

We’d barely switched the light out last night before Son 1 aged 5y 2m was up and in the Big Bed.  He climbed in and curled himself up small on my side. ”It’s a bit early for you to come in here,” I said. “Mummy and Daddy haven’t even gone to sleep yet. Do you want me to take you downstairs and cuddle you in your bed?”  No answer.   “Son 1!” No answer. “Oh I’ll go downstairs,” said The Man, “I want some sleep.”  Off he went. I’m so desperate for sleep I let him go and Son 1 stay. It doesn’t matter. I am a relaxed parent. In the Olden Days we’d’ve all been in bed together.  Why bother wrecking all our lives and sleep by forcing him into his own bed if he needs our Love and Cuddles?  I woke at 2am with my pyjama leg soaked.   He’d wet the bed.  Nearly a legfull. We have a massive comforter under the bottom sheet. It had soaked through that and onto a blanket covering the mattress. He’d got the quilt cover and duvet.  I got him up and took him, barely conscious, into the bathroom.  I put him in new pyjamas. “Do you want to go in your own bed, or in with Daddy?” “Mummy,” he said, sleepily. “Well go in with Daddy and I’ll get you when I’ve finished tidying up.”  Strip the bed. Washing machine on. Febreze the duvet. Re-arrange the drying washing to hang up the duvet. Tiptoe in and out of the boys’ room to get new sheets, trying not to wake a sleeping Son 2 aged 2y 2m.  Lights on and clatter about near the Double Room, hoping to wake The Man. He snored all the way through. Son 1 was fast asleep by the time I’d finished. I took the dinosaur quilt off his bed and went back upstairs to bed. 

There were storms again overnight, so I didn’t get much sleep.  Which meant we were late up, which meant I hardly saw Son 2 before Son 1 and I went pelting out.  We were late for School, but I did get to The Office on time.   In the lunch hour I went Christmas Shopping.  A couple of weeks ago, Son 1 wrote a Letter To Santa.  He was very keen on doing this, and The Man helped him.  We had a good look at the fireplace, and I couldn’t convince him that the envelope would get sucked up the flue and sent on.  “Can we post it instead?” I addressed it for him,  and off we went to the postbox.  This weekend, The Man and I realised we have no idea what he’s asked for. The Man, who wrote it, can’t remember. And yes darling, I have indeed sent the letter to the North Pole. 

Son 1 of course can remember. A rocket, a Woody and a Playmobil knights castle.  The rocket is an Early Learning Centre 18m to 5yr one which he wanted last year. He plays with it at school and nursery. “Don’t you think you’re a bit old for that now?” “Well Son 2 can play with it as well.”  Fine. I got it for him.  I’d also asked Son 2 what he wanted from Santa. “Clip clops” he said. Horses. So he has a Brio wooden train and horse stables set. A TK Maxx special.  “What do you want for Christmas?” The Man asked me.  Time. Time, time time.

Signs

1.  Signs Of Love

2.  Good Intentions

3.  Warning Signs

Son 1 aged 5y 2m and Son 2 aged 2y 2m were so wiped out at bedtime yesterday that I was SURE we were heading for a lie-in this morning. Nope. 7am. Son 1, was as usual, in the Big Bed. The Man had gone Downstairs to try to get Son 2 back to sleep.   Son 2 wanted his breakfast. We were all getting up.  Son 1 was knackered. There was a lot of lying on the bed/on the floor/on the comfy chair watching telly. Son 2 was raring.  As the morning ticked on, The Man took Son 2 outside to play in the garden while he pulled down our rotten trellis.  Son 1watched more telly.  I rang Eldest Brother. Aged Aunt’s funeral is on Thursday. The Man says he’ll come.  Eldest Brother has found a box in which Aged Aunt kept every letter I ever sent her.  I am strangely, completely undone.   Eldest Brother is missing her.  “She didn’t have a bad life,” he said.  “She spent her life surrounded, or being cared for, by people who loved her,” I said. “That puts her in the top 1% of old ladies in the World.” I put my running things on, waved at The Man through the window and off I went. 

It’s the morning of the 5 mile run I did last year. five miles Tra la la. Last year I thought it was the beginning of Big Things. This year, well, I’ve been out 8 times in the last 2 weeks. I’ve realised that the point of the 10- weeks-to-get-you-to-running-12-miles-a-week training programme which I keep starting, isn’t to get you running distances… it’s to get you running 4 times a week. So. Walking 2 minutes, running 4 minutes, when every other runner in Town was doing 5 miles. Chicago, Chicago, it’s My Kind Of Town. I mentioned my Chicago Marathon Daydream to a Mum I know who rows a couple of weeks back. She went running that day, and has been seen out running since.  I have 11 months. I can still Do It.

Son 1 wanted Eggy Pie for tea, much to The Man’s disgust.  Son 2 stood on a chair and washed the potatoes. Son 1 aged 2y 2m used to wash potatoes. Yes, there was water and mud everywhere, but that was all. Son 2 threw the vegetable brush at the cactus, stretched up to press the microwave buttons, stretched for knives and scooped water from the sink with a spoon and drank it.  These are, of course, organic potatoes, with the mud and manure still attached.  Neat e coli.  Yum.  Son 1 came down to break the eggs for me. He cracks them and put the shells in the box. We need 5 eggs. We had 5 eggs. He went back upstairs for Even More Telly. I poured the mix into the pan. “I usually have more than that,” I thought. I fished in the bin. There was a whole egg in the thrown out egg box.  I cracked it into the pan and stirred it up a bit.  They all stuffed their faces, even The Man, who also had Ready Meal chicken pieces and dip I found in the freezer.  At bathtime, Son 2 reached for a Nemo toy Son 1 had left on the bathside. Son 2 didn’t realise that he needs the bathmat which covers the floor of the bath, and stepped up the bath wall.  He slipped instantly, did a half turn, slid straight down, clunked the back of his head and zoomed on his back straight under the water. I was just walking back into the bathroom as he did it, saw it, fished him out, cuddled him and let him go back in when he wanted to.  Of course I have never left him on his own in the bath before.

Tags: accident, Aged Aunt, bathtime, Chicago Marathon, e coli, Eggy Pie, Eldest Brother, five mile run, funeral, Nemo, running, training

Pigs And Flamingos

1.  Little Girls

2.  Big Boys

3.  Little Boys

It’s been a Mad Week.  Too much Work, too much Going Out and it’s not even December. I’m phuqqed.  Never mind, chin up, mustn’t grumble, Just Keep Swimming, Smile And Wave.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m was in The Big Bed when we woke up.  Can’t keep him in his own bed.  Can’t get Son 2 aged 2y 2m off my lap when we’re eating, either.   Better parents than me Set Boundaries early and get to sleep and eat without invaders. Oh who cares, they’re cute, they’re soft and fluffy, and they won’t be doing it when they’re 20. So. What did we do today.  Got up, fed children, fed fish, cleaned up, tidied up, hoovered up, put washing on. Pulled apart bags of toys in attic. Some toys are the excess from the September Birthday Fest.. put away to be liberated over the coming year. Some toys are duplicates, things they’ve been given which they already have. In both bags there are boxes and boxes of brand new toys. And guess what. Not a single thing for a Girl.  For today’s party person was a She Child. No I didn’t forget to get a present. It’s been flashing red on the Mummy Dashboard all week.  I just didn’t have time.

In the end I wrapped a book and story CD of Son 1’s which we haven’t used yet. A pity, because it was long stories, which are handy for the School Run.  The party was at The Bird Park, which we love. The weather was foul, storm force winds, drenching rain. A grim, wet, low visibility 40-minute drive.   Son 1’s whole class were in the Play Area, and you could almost hear his heart singing as he tore off his mac, kicked off his shoes and sprinted to join them. Son 2 waddled after him, calling out his baby version of “Son 1! Son 1! Come back!”  “Son 1! Look after Son 2!”  I called.  And he did. Came back, got him, helped him in the toddler area, and spent at least half a minute with him before running off with his friends. They both loved it.  Son 1 played and scrapped, and climbed and balanced, and ran and slid.  Son 2 needed me, and took me on lap after lap of an obstacle course involving steps, slides, ladders, poles, nets and bridges. With pit stops in the ball pool. Son 2 will never let Son 1 pick him up, carry him or play with him physically.  I’d thought it was a Son 2 Thing. Until one of Son 1’s friends decided he wanted to play with Son 2. And Son 2 happily let himself be picked up, carried, pushed down, through and over and spun round.  Smiling and laughing all the time. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep the New Big Boy playing with him. The little beggar.

After lunch and three hours there, I rounded them up with ice creams and party bags and we drove bag. Son 1 slept. Son 2 didn’t.  We picked The Man up from the House and went for a drive, hoping Son 2 would sleep, anticipating he’d raise hell if he didn’t.  Son 1 woke. We dropped The Man and Son 2 in a car park at the far end of Town, so The Man could push him back in the Big Pram to see if he’d snooze. Son 1 and I drove back past a second hand shop, with murals painted on the walls outside. “Pigs and flamingos!” said Son 1, like an oath. “Do they sell pigs and flamingos?” The Man used to live in a flat above the second hand shop when we first started… er.. going out… 22 years ago. ”Maybe not now,  but I think they used to,” I said. At home I lay on the sofa, Son 1 coloured.  The others came back.  Son 2 had refused to get in the Pram, and had walked the mile home.  He lay down on top of me, and tried to push Son 1 off the sofa when he tried to squeeze on too.

Occasions

1.  A Celebration

2.  A Reunion

3.  A Parade

My 500th blog post.  I was going to put a photo up to mark the occasion, but don’t seem to be able to do anything with the design. I never looked before. The Man took Son 1 aged 5y 1m to School. Son 2 aged 2y 2m and I unloaded the dishwasher, put some washing on, tidied up – he got a sticker for putting his toys away, sat on the bed reading and cuddled and tickled. A Wednesday Friend was waiting in for deliveries, so I put Son 2 in the Big Pram and off we pushed.  We stopped at the Baker’s Shop and I bought a sourdough loaf for the Mummies’ lunch… and some flapjacks the size of housebricks for everyone’s pudding.  Son 2 saw the flapjacks. “I wan’ fap jak.  I wan’ fap jak.” I put them under the Pram.  A shriek, and a plastic horse was thrown on the floor with force.  We stopped at the Newsagent’s to sort out the paper bill, and then I began the slow, hot task of pushing the Big Pram up the mighty hill from The Town to Wednesday Mum’s house.   I’ve been pushing that pram up that hill for four years now, and today was the hardest yet.  Clearly Son 2 is getting heavier. Because I can’t have lost that much fitness, can I?

Booming Business Wednesday Mother was back from her Business Trip to South Africa.  She opened the door, Son 2 sprang through. “Great hair,” she said. I looked at his fine, tousled blond head and wondered what she meant. Only when the other Mother said “it’s fantastic, takes years off you” did I realise she’d been talking about me. The Business Trip had been very successful and she was pleased. She only got back last night after 24 hours of travelling. Son 2 clung, but soon went upstairs with the other two boys, both aged 3.  We gossiped. Our hostess went to check on the boys. She came back down. “Son 2 is standing on top of the bunk bed.  I didn’t know if you wanted him up there.”  No I did not.  I went upstairs into the children’s bedroom.  I persuaded Son 2 to come down, and sat playing with him and the other two. Then the marble construction game came out. Lots of ramps, tunnels and tubes. And many many marbles. Son 2, like his brother, is a compulsive mouther.  I could not leave him in a room full of chokeables, much as I wanted to sit, drink coffee and chat with the others.   The boys eventually drifted downstairs and stuffed their faces with soup and flapjacks.

There was a carnival in the Big Town this evening, so after picking Son 1 up from school we parked, shopped, and joined in. The Big Town was packed.  Both boys were shattered, bored with the waiting around, but determined not to miss a thing.  Son 2 sat in his buggy, his eyes drooping, yet again and again he yanked his head up.  We left before the end - The Big Town’s four roads in and out aren’t Big enough for tens of thousands of people to leave at the same time – and heard, but didn’t see, the short, loud burst of fireworks marking the finale.  “Bang,” said Son 2.  All the way home. Without nodding off once.

Gripping

1.  Holding Up

2.  Falling Down

3.  Clinging On

Yesterday I allbut wore an evening dress to work.  Only dark tights left, nothing else would Go, so I poshed up. Loads of compliments, so that dress is now a work outfit.  It’s also a Tesco outfit, because I wore it to the Big Shop with Son 1 aged 5y 1m. Where I bought 2 boxes of 2-pairs of natural tights. I pulled out a pair this morning and they were Hold Ups.  Now.  I tried Hold Ups 20 years ago when they first came out, in the days when they stayed up only by tourniquet-ing your tubby upper thighs, and slithered straight down your leg if you wore even a whiff of body lotion.   So I did an instant calculation. 2 boxes = £7, do I have enough life to take them back = no.  And then I remembered my Student Days. When I bought stockings two pairs at a time because that way if you got a ladder you always had a Spare Leg.  Plus they were always marked down in sales.  I had drawers full of suspender belts and knew that as a Stockings Girl I had a certain quelquechose.  But these days, I have no suspender belts and no stockings, and I can’t even remember when or why I changed over.  So. In honour of the Stockings Girl, the Hold Ups stayed.

I dropped Son 1 off at School, went into The Office, and at lunchtime, went out for a run/walk along The River with a colleague.  Walk 2 mins, run 4 mins, x 5.  We did all right. Afterwards, my colleague and I walked in The Big Town for a meeting. And with every step, one of my Hold Ups slipped further down my leg.  My colleague was sympathetic, and did her best to give me cover as I tried to hoik it up every four paces. On the way back the comedy element was improved by adding a friend of hers who lives near The Office walking back with us. The friend kept trying to draw me into the conversation… I kept trying to fall back and and keep my head down so I could do surreptitious little hitches.

Son 1 fell asleep in the car on the way back, and I parked outside the house and took in all the bags without him.  “Where’s my Son 1?” asked Son 2 aged 2y 2m, thumping down the stairs. “Mummy come back work. Son 1 come back School.” He always needs to stay close as soon as I’m back, hanging on to me, crying if I try to shake him off. If I sit down he has to sit on my knee. If The Man tries to take them upstairs to give me five minutes’ peace, Son 2 always trails back down.  I quite like it now… I like his unswerving determination. Mummy will read me my books, Mummy will bath me, Mummy will dress me, Mummy will do my teeth, Mummy will sing my lullaby and put me to bed.  I went upstairs to change out of my Office clothes. Son 2 followed.  I took my Hold Ups off at last.  The one that Held Up had a big ladder in it.