1.  Night And Day

2.  Every Time We Say Goodbye

3.  Too Darn Hot

Oh Man.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m had another rubbish night, burning up, sweating, red in the face, crying.  His ears are fine but he says his throat is sore.  Son 2 aged 16m has the same, raging temperature - measured only with hand-on-forehead… absolute “no” from him to thermometer-in-the-ear - and not knowing what to do with himself.  Overnight, both dosed with Ibuprofen, calpol and liquids.  Son 1 was off Nursery, which isn’t a logistical problem because we have Wonder Nanny.  But I had a jam-packed day at the Office and there was nothing I could do about it.  Two poorly little boys who just wanted their Mummy and off I went, knowing I would think of nothing else all day.

At 1230 a colleague came by.  “Your Mum rang. She wanted to know how the boys are.”  Hell fire. I hadn’t had a minute.  I rang Wonder Nanny.  Son 1 answered.  “How are you?” “Not all right.”  “How is Son 2?” “He’s asleep.”  Wonder Nanny had dosed them, kept them quiet and they seemed ok.  “I was just about to text you,” she said.  “I know you’d be worried.”  I didn’t have time to ring Nanna…

By the time I got back, Son 1 was in his pyjamas with his temperature raging again, and Son 2 was in his cot asleep.  I was bereft.  All I wanted to do was wake Son 2 so I could be with him.  I went upstairs to get changed, and he woke up.  I got him to sleep and went in to Son 1.  “My poorliness is back again.” Son 2 woke again.  He howled.  Son 1 came in with us.  i went down, The Man took over.  Nanna rang.  I still hadn’t called her back. The Man came down after an hour, and Son 2 started again.  He woke Son 1.  They both bayed, louder and louder, in a comical, horrible duet.  The Man went to be with Son 2 while I finished work (and quickly wrote this) and then I’ll sort out Son 1.  We’ll swap boys at bedtime.

1.  Kitchen

2.  Lounge

3.  Bedroom

Son 1 aged 4y 4m burned up through the night and today.  Hot and listless this morning, able only to lie in the Big Bed and watch Scooby and the Pirates. Couldn’t eat anything for breakfast. Except half a can of SpongeBob pasta.  We couldn’t got out to see the Wednesday Friends.  This is the Worst Fever Since Records Began.  Which was yesterday, when I started using my new Electro Ear Thermometer.  I’ve previously just looked at a child flopped on a chair, a shiny red hot face, dull eyes, clamped my hand to his forehead and brung on the Calpol.  Using the Electro Ear Thermometer was more complicated than the instructions suggest. “Get that thing away from my ear!”  “No!”  “Get it away from me!”   Son 1 whipped his head back and forward,  stuck his chin into his chest and folded his arms over his ears.  A deal was done involving two cut-price Playmobil pirates I found in Tesco.  Son 1 was happy, I got my temperature readings.  40 at one point.  I doubled it and added 30, which is what I do for the weather forecast.   Son 1 may have been better off with a cool hand on his forehead.

Son 2 aged 16m hasn’t been feeling too bright either.  He’s had two sleeps.  He’s clung.  But he’s shinnied up on the Toddler Table despite my efforts to keep him on the ground, he’s played pirates, he’s had a good sort of his cars.  Son 1 watched Sinbad during this morning’s sleep.  ”I know you think the Realm Of Chaos is no place for a woman,” says a breathy Catherine Zeta Jones character to Sinbad.  I’m with Sinbad.   

I left Son 1 downstairs watching Bee Movie and playing with his pirates, and lay down with Son 2 after lunch to get him to sleep again.  I fell asleep.  When I went downstairs again 45 minutes later, Son 1 and I were supposed to be making biscuits.  He couldn’t stop shivering.  I cuddled him, dosed him , but we couldn’t get him warm.  Into bed he went.  I read to him, then he wanted to sleep. I made him go to the loo first; he woke Son 2 up.  Son 2 and I went downstairs to get him a hot chocolate, and by the time we got back he was asleep.  I took Son 2 outside in the garden and we played with his pushalong car.  Nanna came round.  Son 1’s 40-something temperature was brought down with ibuprofen and an ice lolly.  He ate well at tea and rallied after. Son 2 however just faded as we watched him.

1.  Bathing Beauty

2.  Separation Anxiety

3.  Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot  

0530.  Son 2 aged 16m.  WAAAAAH.  I pelted down, desperate to get there before he woke Son 1 aged 4y 4m.  Put him in the bed, snugged next to him. Nope.  He wanted up.  After a Very Long Time, annoyed that he wouldn’t go back to sleep,  I plonked him back in the cot and went to the loo.  Hell was unleashed.  So there we all were.  Up.  I was reading to Son 2.  The Man had a shower.  Son 2 wriggled down from the bed, toddled off to stare up at him and started pulling at his baby pyjamas.  In he went.   The Man came out. In I went.  Son 2 played and chattered.  I dressed, picked up the toys, put them away, went to get Son 2’s clothes.  “A-Ma,” he said, pointing at the browny matter half-sinking beside him.    But on the bright side, at least I’ had already taken all the toys out…

I got out of The Office spot on 5pm.  Driving home there were two calls from The Man on my mobile.  One I can ignore… I’m driving, I’m not pulling over.  Two… what does he want?  PIcking up from somewhere?  Can-you-get-some-vital-item?  I pulled over.  He is all right now.  He has seen Wonder Nanny’s car driving past.  He’d arrived home at 5pm and the children weren’t there.  He thought something must have happened.  “Now I know how worried you get when you’re in the house without us I’ll make sure it never happens again,” I told him.  “Goodbye,” he said.  Only not that politely.    

The boys had spent the day with two brothers aged 4 and nearly-three and their Nanny.  They’d been for tea at the other house.  Son 1 isn’t well.  Temperature, headache, obviously feeling lousy.  i gave him Calpol… Son 2 begged some.  I got out our fancy new ear thermometer.  He was very upset  “I don’t want it in my ear.”  I took The Man’s temperature.  Son 1 took mine.  (I was definitely iller than The Man.)  Son 1 was 38.9.  Ah. I’ve just put that in an online converter.  Part of the skill in taking children’s temperatures is obviously… er… understanding Celsius.    Oops.   Son 2 refused his bath.  The Man put him in, and he instantly hurdled out, crying.  He pulled his panda towel off the radiator, took it to the place I dry him each night, put it on the floor and sat on it.  I got the message and put him to bed.   Both of them down before 7.  Unheard of.  Son 2 has woken since; I’ve given him Calpol and he’s gulped water. I think we are in for a stormy night.

1.  First Flower

2.  Country Roads

3.  Night Nights

Son 1aged 4y 4m and I left for Nursery ten minutes earlier than usual.  He has had enough of The Pirate’s Hat And Other Stories… he has had enough of Horrid Henry.  So this morning it was the Famous Five and Treasure Island, free with a paper some time ago.  Son 1 calls it the Famous Fights.  “I wish I was called Georgina.  If I was called Georgina I will say everyone must call me George.”   He also wishes he had a boat, and an island.  And a dog of course.  We arrived in plenty of time, and so parked up the drive and walked down the Muddy Path.  And there, in among the sodden leaves, on a little clump of bright green foliage, was a single pale yellow primrose flower.  Spring Is Sprung.  

To make up for this morning, the roads were heaving this evening, so I decided to explore some back routes to get home.  Mistake.  Tiny, flooded, debris-strewn barely-maintained tracks switchbacking this way and that as the light faded.  We went for miles.  The Famous Five had found some Ingots in a dungeon on the Treasure Island.  A Baddy threatened to shoot Timmy the Dog.  We got back on the usual route and pulled round a group of three of four cars parked together at the side of the road, broken glass, crumpled bonnets, people milling.  Perhaps a Good Thing that we were a little later than them.

Son 2 aged 16m waved from the window as we pulled up outside the house (Thank You Parking Fairy.) He was on top form.  Laughing, squealing, insisting on being held and carried.  He mineswept Son 1’s leftover smoothie from the car, and ate nearly a whole satsuma from his picnic bag.  Son 1 refused tea but accepted a couple of pieces of fruit, and listened to the end of the Famous Five on a laptop upstairs.  Son 2 is still crying as soon as I say night night and leave him in his cot.  Son 1, who used to send The Man packing when I went to see him for his bedtime stories, now says “Oh Mummy, you’ve come at exactly the wrong time.”  He fell asleep during Fairy Child.

1.   Storm

2.   Calm

3.   Seeds

Howls from Son 1 aged 4 y 4m when he plomped downstairs after two hours telly watching, found his Scooby Doo and the Pirates DVD and I said he couldn’t watch it.  “I can’t wait till this afternoon.”  “You can’t watch any more telly. You’ve watched cartoons all morning.”  Red face. Real tears.  “Forgive me Mummy.” “Darling you haven’t done anything.  I just don’t want you to watch any more telly.”  “If you let me watch it I’ll give you fifty pounds for your birthday.”  “Come and sit on my knee.  Son 2 (aged 16m) is very tired and he’ll need his nap this morning.  You can watch Scooby Doo when he’s asleep, and we’ll go out this afternoon instead.”   He composed himself.  I whispered.  “Go and tell Daddy he’s got to give you fifty pounds to give me.”  Son 1 padded over and whispered to The Man.  I held out my hand.

Another snug with Son 2 on the Big Bed to get him to sleep.  Little arms around my neck.  Soft hair, soft skin.  A friend ages ago said that lying down with a sleeping child is one of life’s great luxuries.  Son 1 watched Scooby with The Man, and I went for a run.   A bright, crisp, still morning with doves coo-cooing and sparrows twittering. I was in shorts.  Can’t remember the last time I was out running in daylight, or out running in shorts.  Down to the bridge over the river.  I did my stretches in the kitchen, with Son 1first trying to give me a cuddle and then lying on top of me when I was on my back.   From upstairs came a wail from Son 2.

We were blowing bubbles.  A consolation for Son 2 after an unfortunate incident in which someone screwed his finger into to the top of a toddler bottle, panicked when he screamed in obvious agony, couldn’t work out which way to twist the lid… and just yanked the finger out.  Deep groove in it.  Ahem.  Bubbles.  Son 2 chortled with joy, leapt up, clutched at them, laughed, clapped, giggled, and, finally, came to take the blower to see how it worked.  We were heading into The Town, so we mopped the floor before we went.  A friend walked past with his two girls.   We all met for lunch.  On the way back Son 1 stung us for some Gormitis:  “They have a Terrible Nature.”  Magmion is the Volcano King, smashing and trashing Hapless Peoples.  Delos is the Count of the Seas.  “And Stelios is the King Of The Air,” I told Son 1, who was sitting on The Man’s shoulders as we walked home.   Son 1 has gone straight from the ecologically, politically, ethnically, culturally, representationally-correct cocoon that is CBeebies into a world of Ben 10, Power Rangers and now Gormitis.   What lucky creatures are the women of 2034…

1.  Extra Boy

2.  Mummy’s Boy

3.  Best Friends

A Friend was up for An Outing. First suggestion too expensive, second suggestion they’d already done.  Son 1 butted into all the discussions and phone calls.  He wanted to go to the New Play Centre.  I pretended not to hear. (Can’t stand it.)  The Mother of Son 1 aged 4y 4m’s Best Friend rang.  Best Friend had been whinging all morning, driving them mad.  He wanted to see Son 1.  What were we up to?  Could she bring him round and then she’ll have Son 1 overnight next weekend?  The New Play Centre it was.   Son 1 and the other Little Friend played together, Son 2 played in the baby area, the Ball Pool and the Toddler Section.  He rocked and pulled off and climbed and threw and slid and rode.  The Man talked Boats with Little Friend’s father.  Best Friend arrived.  Play. Lunch. Play.

Best Friend came back to the house, and hooray hooray, Son 1’s new Scooby Doo DVD had arrived.  That was them sorted.  I put Son 2 to bed.  Nappy change, in his sleeping bag, and then I put him in his cot. “I’m just going to do the window, and then I’ll come back and Son 2 and Mummy will have a sleep on the bed.”  For the first time he sat burbling instead of screaming as I pulled down the blind and put the blanket up. (Stuffed along the top of the roller and draped down the sides.  Son 2 does not sleep if there is Any Light At All.)  We snugged down together on the bed.  He hugged and held and scrunched his fists in my hair… and pressed his head against my cheek and clung.  And he’s lovely and cuddly, and we miss each other and I’ve decided.  When I’m off, he goes to sleep in the daytime by lying next to me.

Son 1 and Best Friend were having an elaborate game involving the Scooby Doo monsters, the Scooby Friends, all Son 1’s pirates, Captain Hook’s ship, the Lost Boys raft, the Woollies Pirate ship, the Tower of Doom and the ELC monsters.  Captain Hook was sitting in the front of the Mystery Machine with Shaggy and Scooby.   The DVD finished and the pirates paraded around the house.  They were warned off upstairs, but a jam on the toy keyboard woke Son 2.  I took him in the lounge and they melted away to Son 1’s bedroom.  Best Friend’s Mother came to collect him. I heard her ask Son 1: “Would you like to come and stay with Best Friend next weekend?”  “Will Mummy and Daddy be there?”  he replied.  Bit of work to do on that one, then.  At bedtime, when I left Son 2 in his cot, he screamed Blue Murder.

1.  Brown Silk

2.  Green Shoots

3.  A New Best Friend

My Wise And Wonderful Friend and I discussed fashion, weight, shoes, Work Clothes and designer vs High Street last night, as she Sat-Navved her way around a motorway closure.  Inspired, this morning I got out a lovely size-14 dress and jacket combo which I haven’t worn since Son 2 aged 16m came along.  And lo.  I was in. Before, it skimmed and fell and hung.  Now, it clings and creases and strains.  But with the jacket done up, and enough care getting in and out of cars I can get away with it.  And of course my personal stylist, aged 4y 4m,  approved:  “You look like a Princess.” 

Dropping Son 1 off at Nursery, we parked along the Muddy Path.  Son 1 now has to tiptoe around the sprouting daffodils… at some points he can barely get his little boy feet in the gaps between clumps.  Some have flower buds… some are six inches tall.  Among the leaves vivid green primroses are pushing through.  And little self-seeded camellia bushes have tight knobby buds.  The suit was for a meeting in The City, two hours’ drive away.  The sunshine was so bright I had to root round for my sunglasses as I drove.  I can’t remember the last time I wore them.  Blue sky all the way.  A fantastic morning.  Coming back the sun was so bright and low in the sky I couldn’t actually… er… see very much.  And still light at 1730.     

A Greek Night in a local bar.  Some friends had taken a couple of tables and invited us.  We were late.  (Late home, late bedtime, late out of the house…)  On arrival, the tables were settled, and we were at the end, next to a Business Contact of The Man’s, and a middle-aged couple who we didn’t know.  On the other side of them, the receptionist of a Business The Man uses… and then two Good Friends.  We ate and drank and talked.  I told my neighbour about Son 1 and Son 2 and then asked about her children.  Grown, she said.  A daughter  getting married in the Spring; a son, younger, in the Autumn.  The ages clicked.  The accent clicked.  The Man clicked too and leapt into the conversation: “I think this might be - ” “Are you Wonder Nanny’s In-laws-to-be?”  I asked.  She was at home baby-sitting.  Son 2 had been at my neighbour’s house that afternoon.  She thinks he’s lovely, and she loves his name.  The Town is Very Small Indeed.

1.  Babyschool

2.  Message From A Blog Reader

3.  The Comeback

Son 2 aged 16m sat through the whole of Tiddler.  He has a fish-thing anyway, opening and closing his mouth as a baby sign whenever he sees one.   He is an entry level Julia and Axel fan - he likes Monkey Puzzle, which I always feel is a good tale for the child of a Working Mother.  Although in our house it was sabotaged somewhat when I read out “Mummy doesn’t have great big saggy knees,” and The Man walked briskly by and said “Oh yes she does.”  He likes The Gruffalo.  But until today we hadn’t got much further.    This morning though he was glued to it.  The only disruption came from Son 1 aged 4y 4m who came down from watching telly upstairs and said: “She didn’t write it down for Son 2, she wrote it down for ME.”  And then Son 2 picked it again this evening out of a pile on the bed.

While I was at The Office I had a text from The Man:  ”Glad to read the heart scan was ok.”  “Thanks for asking,” I texted back.

When I got back, Son 1 was insistent.  “Don’t put me to bed before 8 o’clock.”  The Man had rung and said he’d be back then.  Son 2 had been swimming with Wonder Nanny.    I put him down to bed.   Little fat arms round my neck, pulling my face close to his.   On his cot pillow.  Jaysus that child can cry.  He screeched and shrieked and sobbed.  And this was before I left him.  I am still doing my lullaby/three rounds of Summertime, five counts down from 100 and then Nighty Night thing.  And he is still doing his ATOMIC SCREAMING.  The Man came back.  And Son 1 smiled and cuddled and cuddled and smiled.  Happiness all over his face.