1. A Glorious Day
2. An Excruciating Evening
3. A Successful Meal
We have been On Holiday. Fantastic, thank you. Scorching sunshine, lovely villa, beautiful pools. Perfect. We were with Granny and Granddad, Elegant Aunt and Golfmad Uncle. Son 1 aged 4y 7m, Son 2 aged 20m and I spent most of each day in the water. The Man dipped in and out, and Granny joined us yesterday. Son 1 came on leaps and bounds before our eyes. The boy who wouldn’t put his face in the water where all about him were jumping in, ducking down and diving under can now swim a length of the children’s pool facedown, pick toys sharks up from the bottom and is pretty damn near being able to copy Marvellous Mummy’s handstands. Son 1 went to Baby Swimming Classes from about 9 weeks old. Son 2 has never had a swimming lesson. By the end of the holiday he could float calmly in his armbands and scrabble back to me if I insisted. But he didn’t really want to. On one Amazing Morning, I had them both in the pool at 11am. By 12, Son 1 was asleep under a towel on a sun lounger, and Son 2 was crashed out in the MacLaren. We all had Bloody Marys. I did 20 lengths in the outside pool, watching an azure-winged magpie flitting around. I then had the whirlpool and indoor pool to myself, and got to blow-dry my hair after swimming for the first time in four-and-a-half years. When I emerged, gleaming and glowing, Son 2 was Up, Cross and Hungry, on The Man’s knee.
We must do it again, we said, we must stay longer. Son 1 found a leaflet about a 2008 sand sculpture competition. “I want to go here. To the land of the sand.” We’ll try in the autumn, we said, we’ll check out flights and prices… And then the trip home. Son 2 on a plane. Golly, quel beast. He was bad enough on the way out, but on an afternoon flight on a plane full of tipsy golfers, there was enough cheering, clapping and ambient sound to absorb his wailing. On an evening flight, after a long, sleepless day he was Satan With The Baffles Out. Loudest child there by many, many miles. He kicked seats, he struggled, he roared, he twisted, he wept, he sobbed, he shouted. For two-and-a-half hours. It was past funny, past the point where I could look at anyone else and past the point where I wanted anything to do with him. He quietened down 5 minutes before landing, and hot, red-faced, glazed-eyed and floppy, ignored the bump as the plane came down. Then, again alert, he peered out of the window, pointed outside at the vehicles whizzing past and said: “Bus.”
Today we opened post, washed clothes and downloaded photos. Son 2 wanted to go to sleep, so he and I had a heavenly cuddle on the double bed before he passed out. Little arms around my neck, a little cheek pressed against mine, soft breath on my lips… who could possibly ever say a bad word to say about him? Son 1 had five Euros off Granny for a treat, so we went into The Town in search of a comic, a chicken and some fruit. Nanna came round , looking, sounding and walking much better since they put her on Warfarin. The Man made Sunday dinner, and the boys ate chicken, broccoli, carrots, potatoes and gravy. Big relief to see them eating the right stuff. Son 2’s vocabulary now includes: crisps, chips (same ‘kip’ word for both) sweets, ice cream and chocolate. Much more advanced than Son 1, who didn’t get a grain of sugar from us till he was gone 2.
Tags: Baby Swimming Classes, Bloody Marys, Elegant Aunt, expressive language, Golfmad Uncle, Granddad, Granny, holiday, ice cream, learning to swim, Nanna, nightmare flight, plane, Satan With The Baffles Out, screaming baby on plane, sweets, swimming, swimming underwater, warfarin
[...] 2 is a psychotic flyer and I Refuse To Go On A Plane With Him Again Ever. It was worse than this: http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/05/17/the-land-of-the-sand/ But it was only two and half hours in a 12 hour trip, there was a sachet of Calpol they [...]