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.

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.

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 and 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.