1.  Cuddling

2.  Waiting

3.  Laughing

Court didn’t start till 1030, so, in principle, I had a nice slow start this morning.   Son 2 aged 20m woke up and I snuggled in the Double Bed with him.  The child who has never liked lying still in bed is  becoming delightfully tolerant of 15 - 20 minutes’ cuddling.  I pin my hopes on his going back to sleep; he pretends to have a doze and then crawls off with an “Up.” I put Cars on for Son 2 aged 4y 8m and  Son 2 and I did some books.  Bear Hunt was a great success.  The Man rang… and we all sat in the bay window and waited for Wonder Nanny. 

Court didn’t actually start till very late.  I’m getting to like the waiting around. Everyone brings books and papers but we don’t read them, we just sit and chat, chat, chat.  It’s very Big Brother/Lost, as people’s backgrounds and stories slowly emerge.  I was the cliffhanger today.  “Was the baby all right yesterday?”  Of course he was. It was Mummy who suffered.   

I walked past the window as I got home and saw Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and Son 2 sitting demurely at the table having tea. And then within seconds of my arriving, the whole thing had disintegrated. Son 2 was wailing to be picked up, Son 1 was in a sulk and the noise levels were rocketing.   “I think I’d better have a glass of wine,” I said. Son 2 shrieked in excitement and leaned over my shoulder.  He was pointing at the wine rack.  20 months old and he knows his way round alcohol.  Oops, said Bridget. We waved Wonder Nanny off.  We had a pretty good natured books and bathtime… with both boys standing up in the shower together, looking wet and shiny and gorgeous.  After, we went into Son 1’s room, where I read How Does A Dinosaur Say Goodnight to both of them before I take Son 2 off to sleep.  They both started blowing brilliantly rude-sounding raspberries on my tummy, reducing all three of us to helpless laughter.  Son 1 is a master at comedy slobby farty noises… and Son 2 did some crackers too.  They both loved making me laugh.  Even when I was putting Son 2 down in his cot, with the usual bend my head right over to be near his, he was still trying to find something soft to use for flobber noises.

1.  Hell Hath No Fury Like A Mummy Forced Onto A Jury 

2.  Big

3.  The Naughty Queen

Both boys slept past 8am.  Not just a Good Thing, an Unheard Of Thing. On every other Wednesday in their lives, an Astonishingly Wonderful Thing.  Today, however, I was still on Jury Service, due in court at 1015, and feeling spectacularly Awful because Son 2 aged 20m was going to someone who, to him, is a near-stranger.  My whole life is run so that I have Wednesdays with my children.   I’ve had every Wednesday of his life with Son 2. I did, I admit, miss half a day of a Wednesday with Son 1 aged 4y 8m - now, why was that?  Anything important I was doing?  Oh yes, giving birth to Son 2.   And try finding someone suitable to look after two small boys for one day only in Half Term week. It was fine. He sobbed miserably when I went, but ate an enormous lunch, and refused to go to sleep all day.  It’s Over. Another Good Thing.  I  know this is a Positive Blog, but just in case any politicos crawl over Mumsnet in search of the Zeitgeist: Do Not Jackboot Mothers Away From Their Toddlers For Jury Service.  It pisses them off.  I posted my vote today, and gentlemen, the score is now even.

Back home for tea. The boys had my leftover rice, kidney beans and sauce from a jar.  “Chair,” said Son 2, insisting on eating it standing on a dining room chair.   We moved Son 1 out of his highchair when Son 2 was about 7 or 8 months old. He would never have dreamed of sitting on anything else until we gently suggested he might like to let his little brother have a turn.   Son 2 is turning into a regular refusnik.  Highchairs are for babies. Bibs go on the floor. Doidy cups are for babies. And give me that big fork, this soppy one with a bear on it is also going on the floor. We don’t actually have enough chairs to let him sit on a big one.  We’ve only got four, and I can’t really put Nanna in the highchair when she comes round.     I may have to involve  Son 1 in a little reverse psychology.

At bedtime, I told Son 1 I was very tired, and needed Daddy back from his Adventures to Do His Share.   “Daddy’s had too many adventures, hasn’t he?”  I agreed. ”I will write a notice for the door. It will say, Daddy, we command you.  Only One More Adventure and then No More Adventures. I will write it and put it on the door and he will see it when he comes home.”  We are reading That Bear Belongs To Emily Brown.  Son 1, although recognising that the Naughty Queen is the Baddie,  is very taken with the idea of Commanding people to do things.

1.  Puppets

2.  Helter Skelter

3.  Waterfalls

Wonder Nanny arriving at 0830 was a Good Thing.  I love my boys and I want to be with them, but after three long hard days in sole charge I was very glad to have help. Son 2 aged 20m and I did puppet books this morning.  We have a monkey finger puppet in a jungle book, nursery rhyme finger puppets which give me the excuse to read an ELC book to him, a Finger Circus book for us to draw faces on our fingers and wiggle through the pages… and three pirate finger puppets which are Son 2’s favourite and gave me a great lead into Peter Pan. We are going to see the show in Kensington Gardens at the weekend, so I am trying to teach Son 2 the story to stop us getting slung out at the first cannonshot. “Hook!” he can say, pointing a stubby finger at Our Hero.  He has been well-trained by Son 1 aged 4y 8m.

I wasn’t needed in court this afternoon, so Wonder Nanny and I took the boys swimming.  Wonder Nanny goes with Son 2 while I’m at work, so he was very happy to swim with her while Son 1 and I played. We went round the River Run, we played on surf boards. We went up on the Flume.  Son 1 still goes down on his own, and I, like the Gruffalo,  follow after.  On our fourth time down, I decided to stuff the sedate, responsible Mother bit and see how fast I could go.  I pushed off, lay flat and shot down like a missile. Near the bottom, I blasted into Son 1, an elephant propelled into a little monkey. He screamed and we corkscrewed into the splashpool.  He was unhurt, but Very Cross. Back at the top of the ladder, the Lifeguard was sheepish.  “He just stopped near the bottom!” “Oh he’s all right,” I said. ”It’s my fault. I always sit up and go slowly, but just that once I thought ’sod it, how fast does this thing go.’  I’ll go back to being slow,”  “No you go for it,” said the Lifeguard. “He’s all the way down now so you won’t hit him.”  I went for it. Wheeeeeeeeeee.

Wonder Nanny and I swapped boys.  Son 2 can float in his armbands, and can kick himself along.  But he doesn’t see why he should.  Every time I prised him off me, finger by finger, he just hung in the water till I was near enough to grab.  He does though like playing in fountains and bubbles, so he was interested in that.  He kept pointing at the changing rooms. “There.”  “Do you want to get out?” Mad nodding.  Return home, tea, books, bath, bed. And the internet light on the computer is working too.  Hooray hooray,  A Very Good Thing.

1.  Grey Day

2.  Blue Tongue

3.  Red Sauce

Each year, the Village where some Wednesday Friends live has a Spring Bank Holiday Do. Each year it is wiped out by the weather. If this year was a not a success, the Do would be scrapped, and the Village would be, as the Wednesday Mother put it, f++**d, as the proceeds pay for the playgroup and the OAP outings and the Hall.  And so, at 12 noon, I pushed Son 2 aged 20m in the Big Pram through sopping wet, calf-high grass and cowpats the size of carpet tiles.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m trailed alongside, complaining that he needed wellies as his trainers were already soaked. All of us were in waterproofs, battered by a sharp Northerly wind, an oppressive, overcast sky and cold, hard, rain.   

We found Best Friend, Younger Brother, the Dog and the Wednesday Mother. We sat on the matting in a Small Top. (Supposed to be a Big Top. But…er.. it wasn’t.) Son 2 cried and clung because he didn’t want to be close to the Dog. Son 1, BF and YB ran riot on the staging.  A unicycle display began - including the man I saw surreally unicycling past the house well over a year ago. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/wp-admin/post.php?action=edit&post=34 We saw a family whose father is away with The Man on his Business Trip.  We bought popcorn. Son 1 rode on a mini carousel. Son 2 cried because it was free-hanging so he couldn’t go on it. We found another with a baseboard and Son 2 clung to a pony, carefully taking my hands off to prove he was Big Enough to ride alone.  Son 1 had blue candy floss. Oh La La the blue tongue and teeth.  Son 1 went up a high bouncy castle slide, came down once, went back up and then sat at the top crying. The owner’s daughter had to go and help him down the stairs. And I got my pound back.

Son 2 cried and clung, and I bought him chips. He ignored them, preferring to dip his finger into the tomato sauce and eat that.  He was frozen, so I stripped off his mac and put a hoodie and a thicker coat on him, and went back into the Small Top.  Son 1 had already found our other Wednesday Friends. We watched some acrobats twirl around upside down in long sashes up in the roof.  Outside, the boys’ old (male) Nursery Nurse was making balloons for children. Son 1 joined the gang to watch, Son 2 sat in his Pram. The music thumped. Son 2 fell asleep. 

The 2nd Wednesday Mum bought me a mug of Spiced Chai, and we sat chatting while Son 1 disappeared inside a teepee with the Nursery Nurse and a gang of children. Son 2 was soundo. The other Wednesday Mother joined us. Son 1 emerged with a balloon sword. Five boys ran round, sword-fighting, inflatable hammering and allbut darting under the wheels of a steam engine.  I can’t remember the last time the 5 of them were together.  When they interfered with the natural willow-woven made-from-recycled-material sculptures once too often, we decided to head back. 

At home I thanked Son 1 for a lovely day. “Thank you for a lovely day as well, Mummy.”

1. Lying In

2. Swimming In The Sea

3. Bubbles

The trial I was sitting on involved a lot of complicated details about ants.  The whole court was deeply interested, but I just didn’t understand a word. “Mummy, Son 2 wants you.” Son 1 aged 4y 8m, standing by the side of the bed. 0750. “GoandtellhimI’mcoming.”  I got up slowly, put my contact lenses in and went down. Son 1 had switched on both lamps and was lying in the cot with Son 2 aged 20m. “I said did he want me to get in with him and he nodded!”

We went to the Beach Between The Headlands with friends and their 6 year old. A glorious Factor 50 day. Son 1 played in the sea in his wetsuit, Son 2 played and paddled and sat in the water.  I willed him to sleep, but he didn’t want to. “Ball.” The Friend fed him jammy dodgers, and he liked her enough to sta with her while I went Swimming In The Sea.  The water was flat and freezing. I could get away without the boob lift if I make this a habit.  My skin shrank and goose-bumped so much as I inched my way in that I was positively pert by the time I was shoulder-high. It was perishing, but as usual, bearable after a few minutes. The water was emerald from the reflected greenery either side of the cove.  It was heavenly.  A Good Thing that I got a sea swim in May, a Good thing that I’m still able to manage it when The Man is away.  Dressed and dry, I took the boys for ice cream. Son 1 and I chose a Mr Man raspberry ice lolly for Son 2. He cried with wanting it while we waited to pay.  I unwrapped it and he took one look, burst into tears, wouldn’t touch it and stomped back to the freezer to gaze longily at the Smartie lollies. He cried all the way back to the Pram, repeatedly refusing the raspberry one. I ate it, and he shared my choc ice.

Bathtime was lovely.  I was signing. Son 2 was slotting cotton buds through the end of an empty cleaner tube.  Son 1 was chewing the cotton off the ends of cotton buds, and doing great long bubbly farts, to great comic effect.  He farted, both boys laughed hysterically, I laughed. Their eyes shine, their smiles sparkle, they are full of joy and love and fun.

1.  Gravity

2.  Thermodynamics

3.  Applied Maths

One of those days where there was so much cooking, cleaning, tidying, washing, washing up, clearing up and sorting out that again, I marvelled that people stay at home with children.  Why wouldn’t you go at to work when you never see them because you’re pegging out/folding up/hoovering round/etcetc.  A friend who Stays At Home did, admittedly, help me with this idea. “We don’t try to do it all in one morning like you do.”  Ah.   So.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m and Son 2 aged 20m are out in the little back yard by the kitchen window.  Theory: They can Play Outside While I Get On.  Son 1 had his new golf clubs and balls. I nearly said ”And don’t take that drain cover off or the golf balls will fall down and you’ll lose them.”  No, I thought.  Don’t draw attention to the fact that the drain cover can very easily be removed.  I washed potatoes.  Son 1 came running in with a shriek of “Mummeeee! My golf balls!” ”They’ve fallen down the drain, haven’t they?”  He swallowed a sob and nodded.  Outside, Son 2 sat, holding the grid, happily poking his fingers through the holes.  “How are we going to get them out?”  wailed Son 1. With Mummy’s arm up to her shoulder fishing them out of yesterday’s milk which I’d just tipped down the sink. 

They mostly did all right looking after themselves.  I gave them big buckets of warm water with great  mountains of Fairy bubbles piled up on top.  Son 1 refused to wear his wetsuit. My new Childcare Book says let them learn that if they don’t wear a coat, they get cold.  So once again, he was starkers.  He got cold.  He curled up into a ball and wedged himself into the warm water in the bucket.  Son 2, who now couldn’t get to the water or bubbles, bashed him on the back with his jug. “More. More. More.” The Childcare Book says once they have mastered a skill, let them do it.  It will make them feel Capable and in Control.  Son 1 dries and dresses himself twice a week at Nursery after swimming. “Here’s your robe, and your clothes are inside,” I said to Son 1, syringing Ibuprofen into Son 2, who’d split his lip open on the handle of the bucket when it fell over. Son 1 just stood, naked, goose-bumped, shivering, and getting bluer and more see-through with every passing five minutes.  Ask Don’t Tell, it says.  “Why aren’t you getting dressed?” “I like the feeling of your skin when you dress me.”  Who do you think dressed him? 

He wouldn’t eat his stew at lunchtime.  “Eat five spoonfuls please.” “I can only eat three.”  “Four then.” “I can’t eat four. Only three.”  The Childcare Book says don’t fight.  Ever.  I got on with my lunch.  Son 1 ate three spoonfuls, and crossly picked his plate up to take it to the sink. I looked behind me. He’d put it on a chair and was eating more.  “Are you having secret spoonfuls?”  He laughed. ”Yes.” “Is that four?” “Yes. ” He put another spoonful in. “Is that five?”  “Yes.”  He ate another. ”Can I have a Fab?”  “Have you just stopped and eaten more because you knew what I’d say if you asked for a lolly?” Another laugh. “I could see the ‘no’ coming up from your toes.”

1.  Watching The Clock

2.  Losing The Way

3.  Finding The Time

I always try never to wish my boys’ childhoods away, but when they are grown I will not miss day after day after day of mad, face-heating, lip-biting, traffic-cursing, watch-glancing panic trying to get Son 1 aged 4y 8m out of Daycare/Nursery/Tea Club by closing.    He was sitting on a  little plastic chair, knock-kneed, clutching his schoolbag, his swimming bag and his blazer, watching telly while a couple of teachers stood chatting in their coats.  However. He had a big Well Done sticker on his jumper, and a certificate proclaiming him “Star Of The Week.” For Being A Good Friend, A Good Worker and A Good Boy.

I’d bought him an ELC golf set at lunchtime, because he won both his races in his swimming gala yesterday.  25m butterfly and backstroke.   Oh all right then, they do half the pool, four at a time, on noodles helped by teachers. But he did win, and he of course has his present for Trying Hard rather than Being Clever.   The ELC was giving away balloons, so the backseat toy tally on the way home was two plastic golf clubs, two plastic balls and two green balloons.  Wonder Nanny was helping out her Other Family, looking after their boys while the parents were at a wedding.  I was driving to theirs to pick up Son 2 aged 20m.  I’ve never been, and had arranged to ring Wonder Nanny to get directions on our way over.  I fished in my bag for my phone.  Couldn’t find it. Stopped at a garage. Took the bag, the front seat, and the car to pieces.  No phone. In another panic, I slid the car seat back. There was a loud explosion and a wail from the back seat.  I’d reversed over an Early Learning Centre balloon.   

I drove all the way home. Rang Wonder Nanny from the house phone. Checked the house answer phone. Rang the mobile, no reply.  Went out to the double-parked car, where Son 1 had fallen asleep.   Rang the mobile.  Heard the mobile. Inside an envelope in my bag. Into car. Out to Other Family’s.  When Son 2 saw me he laughed and laughed and clapped his hands. That’s what I needed.  A round of applause just for turning up.  On the trip back, Son 1 spotted a playground, and from then on, all the way back whined and whinged to go there. I have bought a new childcare book. I used all its techniques at teatime, and although it went on forever, and although Son 1 had three lollies for pudding… it was a lot easier than normal and I didn’t need a glass of wine. 

Last night, desperate to get out to Book Club, I told Son 1 “I’m going now, but tomorrow, you can have as many books as you like, and I will read them all.”  Subtext. He’ll fall asleep in the third one. 12 books.  I didn’t get downstairs again till twenty to ten…

1.  Like A Jungle, Sometimes

2.  Smash And Grab

3.  Collateral Damage

Today was just a bonus.  I thought I’d be on Jury Service, miserably ordered out of my children’s lives by the Iron Heel of David Blunkett’s determination that Middle Class People Must Stop Dodging It.  But with one wave of a magic wand (yes oh yes I believe in fairies) I was on the beach, taking pictures of the boys, swigging from my credit-crunch coffee flask and awaiting the Wednesday Friends.  The Sister-In-Law has lived to fight another day.  Son 1 aged 4y 7m ran off with Best Friend (aged 4y 6m,) Second Child aged 3 and half and Best Friend’s little brother, aged nearly 3. Son 2 aged 20m dug sand, watched a playgroup, besotted,  and tried to wander off On The Road, again and again.   After lunch they moved into the Garden By The Beach. We discussed the ethics of letting four small boys dive in and out of infant ornamental grass in the presence of 20 council gardeners putting out the bedding. And decided it served the council right for laying out a formal garden for the over-60s in land that could have been a perfectly lovely playground.  We pretended we didn’t know that three of them had escaped into a vast thicket of 7ft gunnera.  We couldn’t see them, or the gardener who said sternly: “Lads, I don’t mind you being in there, but don’t pull that up, it’s there for a reason.”  They’re allowed in the gunnera, we thought.  

At 2pm we headed home.  The parking fairy put us close to the house.  Son 2 fell asleep in the car of about 5 minutes and refused to go back to sleep. I put A Shark’s Tale on for an exhausted Son 1, and fish-mad Son 2 decided to he’d rather watch that than cling to me.  Son 2’s Godmother called round, and we drank tea as she test-drove her new presentation.  Son 2 appeared, and coyly flirted and giggled, and “hallo”-d her from the Dishwasher Box House. He then tantrummed when she left. I put him on a chair at a sink full of warm water and bubbles while I made Eggy Pie - tortilla - for tea.  I called Son 1 down to break the eggs. As soon as he saw Son 1 smash and plop the first one, Son 2 slid down from his chair and up on Son 1’s.  Gimme Gimme Gimme.  I patiently said no, blocked off his access to the egg box and let Son 1 get on with the job of breaking another four eggs into the jug.  Son 2 got down from the chair and played on the floor.  Five minutes later I looked down.  The little b**£$%^!# was patting and paddling in a broken egg on the floor, egg shell everywhere.   In the four seconds he’d had available, he’d whipped an egg out of the box and either dropped it or taken it down to the floor with him. Neither Son 1 nor I saw a thing. 

I cleared up the egg, and let Son 2 up on the chair again. The recipe includes two tablespoons of parmesan in the egg mix.  I put a spoonful in  a tub and let him pour it into Son 1’s jug.  “More,” he demanded. I obliged. “More.” I put some more in his tub. He poured it in. “More.” And cried when I wouldn’t give him any.  “You’ve put courgette in this,” said Son 1, peering in the frying pan. “Only a bit,”  I said. “Because I like courgette, but I know you don’t like it.”  Subtext. Because courgette was in the veg box and you won’t notice it when it’s all mixed up with the peas and potato. Between us all, we made a Damn Fine Eggy Pie. Son 1 cut and served it. “I think from now on we should always help you make tea,” he said.  I agreed it had been fun.  He helped himself to a vast portion, and then, very slowly,  dissected it to remove every molecule of courgette.

1.  Conflict Averted

2.  Conflict Resolved

3.  Conflict Avoided

We are not wanted in Court tomorrow, which is a Fantastic Thing. I’ve done 4 10-hour days with Wednesdays off since I went back to The Office after having Son 1… so I’ve never had more than two days without a day with the children.   I wasn’t happy about being forced to do a five day week on Jury Service.  And then today… Ping. Don’t have to. Can you all come back on Thursday.    It means The Man can go on a Business Trip tonight instead of tomorrow night.  He’d made all his original plans for today, not realising there was a slight Home Alone problem with the boys if Mummy was busy fulfilling her civic duty.  We met up for lunch to celebrate.

In another Thing That Didn’t Make The Blog Because It Wasn’t Positive… I had a Parking Rage set-to with a neighbour the other week.  She had apparently been waiting ages to park, and was furious when I came along with Son 1 asleep in the back and innocently drove into a space near our house.  She tried to drive me out of it, which has never happened to me before, and wasn’t pleasant.  As I was in it, there wasn’t much she could do, apart from wind her window down and screech how annoyed she was.  I didn’t really respond, just told her there was also another space further up the hill which she clearly hadn’t seen.  I saw her again today and although she didn’t apologise, she made a lot of excuses for her behaviour.  We agreed some people park very inconsiderately and take up two spaces instead of one, and now we are Bestest Friends again.     

After the boys’ tea we went over to the Yacht Club at the invitation of a Dad we know, there with his two girls.   I agreed to go, but told The Man that if he sat down with his mate talking boats and left me in charge of four children, I would come home.  We had a couple of drinks; the children played.  I sat chatting with the Dad; The Man played football with the children.  Son 2 was so tired he could hardly stand, but was determined not to miss anything and kept on and on.  Son 1 cried with disappointment when, at 8pm, we said we had to get home.   Half past nine before we got them to bed.   That just wouldn’t and couldn’t happen on a normal work night.  Jury Service is a Good Thing.

1.  Sod’s Law

2.  Law Courts

3.  The First Rule Of Parenting

Both boys decided to have a lie in this morning.  On holiday, when we had nothing to do except Find The Family in the cafe at 11, whenever… 6am.  On Saturday, flying back, clear out of the villa by 1030… we had to wake them up.  This morning, needing to get Son 1 aged 4y 7m to Nursery… needing to get me to the Big Town by 9am… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.   I had breakfast, showered, sorted holiday washing, did my hair and make up, made snacks… still nothing.  I eventually got Son 1 up with the promise of Ice Age 2 in the lounge.  And Son 2 aged 20m finally stirred when I marched into his room braying Good Morning and pulling down the blanket and blackout blind.

We got out in plenty of time for Nursery.  All very pleased to see Son 1, and took a delighted interest in the holiday photos we’d printed off.   Then I went off to Court for Jury Service.  Rather baffled about whether I can say anything about it at all.  We never got into court, there was lots of waiting around and then we were all sent home.  Is that ok?  And  hilarious male-female split while we were all loafing around waiting for anyone to want us.  All the men sat singly aloof, reading papers, out of sight of the women.  Who sat on two tables, drinking coffees, trashing the lunch menu, comparing jobs, where we all lived and how many children we had, and what they want to do when they leave school.

I picked up Son 1 a bit early, which was nice, and we headed home.   Son 2 had had a quiet day with Wonder Nanny.  She moved house while we were away, which is all part of her spectacular marvellousness.  A Very Good Thing.  Too complicated to think about if she’d needed time off when I can’t get out of Jury Service and The Man is away…    One of our neighbours is an elderly nun who can’t hear very well.  Which means in 8 years I’ve had very few conversations with her. And they’ve all been started by me. Sister X stopped me yesterday to tell me how lovely Wonder Nanny is with the children and what a very sweet girl she is. When Son 1 and I came back today I watched Son 2 in the back garden for a while.  He was playing with the water in the sand pit.  Wonder Nanny, sitting on the steps watching, said something to him and he waddled over to her.  Then he waddled back again, with a Shane Warne-style strip of suntan lotion down his nose.  He went back to her, and again, returned to the sandpit, this time with a stripe under his lip to protect his scar.  Outside, I protested it wasn’t fair.  “He never stands still for sun lotion.  He’s like a bat in a barrel when I try!”  Wonder Nanny smiled. ”They never behave for their parents.”