1.   Dawn Presence

2.   Perfect Presents

3.   Present Tense

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

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

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

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

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

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

1.  Little Yellow Book

2.  Cuckoo

3.  Late Lambs

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

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

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

1.  Three Good Things

2.  Bright and Beautiful

3. Moonrise

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

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

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

1.  Be Good For Goodness Sake

2.  A Winter Wonderland

3.  Santa Baby

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

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

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

1.  Warming Up

2.  Endurance Event

3.  Prizegiving

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

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

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

1.  The Odd One Out

2.  Baby Bonding

3.  Storm Force

Again, the scrum to get Son 1 aged 4y 2m to Nursery.  I’d meticulously left everything out last night.  We left home on time; we got there easily.  We had to park nearby, because I had to haul in the car seat for The MAn to do the pick up on his way back through.  As we walked along we saw more and more other mums dropping their children off.  There were party dresses, Thunderbirds outfits, Power Rangers, jeans, sweatshirts… and only one little boy in his uniform.  Oh Dear.  Son 1 was unbothered.  “Silly Mummy,” he said, clutching his Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer cuddly toy.  Back in the car I found his Captain Hook hat, and went back into the Nursery to give it to him.  He was wearing a Santa Hat and carrying a sack race bag.  He would have loved to spent the day at Nursery in his Captain Hook outfit.  Silly Mummy.

Wonder Nanny had a funeral, so I ran round at work and then pelted out again to get home in time.  Mr Wonder Nanny was parked opposite the house with the engine running when I arrived.  I gave him a cheery wave.  I got some work done while Son 2 aged 15m was asleep, but after that there was no point. It was very nice to have some time with him.  We played farms, we got out books he pointed at, we did some washing.  He hugged his highchair and cried; I got the hint and gave him a snack.  We giggled and tickled and cuddled.  Son 1 and The Man arrived home, Son 1 in a too-small pirate outfit borrowed from the Dressing Up Rack.  He flopped down on the floor grumpily, knackered after the Nursery Christmas Party.  The Man had bought some Ben 10 Top Trumps as a present for Son 1, and soon he was sitting on the floor looking at them while Son 2 was picking cards and waddling off with them.

The Office Christmas Party.  At an attraction we visit sometimes with the boys. There is the tourists’ route, sign-posted, huge roads, a long way round.  And there is another route.  Unsignposted, narrow, winding and much much quicker.  Every time we go I take the short cut, and every time I get lost.  In daylight.  Tonight there was a severe weather warning. 4cm of rain expected, gail force winds.  Driving alone, I took the short cut.  In driving rain, pitch black, winds that buffeted the car.  No visibility despite windscreen washers on doublespeed.  Great deep pools of water across the road.  Branches down… at times I couldn’t see the sides of the road let alone which side I was meant to be driving on.  I got lost.  I didn’t know which way round I was.  I got there in the end - everyone had finished their starters.  It was fun.  As I left at the end I could hear a train coming towards the building.  It was the sound of the storm-force wind on the roof.  On the way back I went to the 24 hour Tesco and bought washing powder, soap, bleach and nappies.

1. Vanity

2. Brevity

3. Immunity

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

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

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

1. Bottled Treasure

2. Forbidden Treasure

3. Little Treasures

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

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

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

1. Early Bird

2. Mocking Bird

3. Homing Pigeon

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

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

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