1.  Off Colour

2.  Off Day

3.  Off Switch

The Man left ridiculously early on a Business Trip.  I was up at 6am, to tidy up, get the lunches, sort out the clothes, chop chop busy busy work work bang bang. The boys slept and slept.  Oh for them to lie in their comas on a day when I can sleep in as well. I showered and did my hair and make up. Still no sign of life.  I woke Son 2 aged 21 m and did his reading with him.  I woke Son 1 aged 4y 8m. He flopped on to the double bed in Son 2’s room.  Son 1 has a cough, his throat sounds sore and he was clearly exhausted. Wonder Nanny arrived and we got him in his uniform. We said our goodbyes and off I drove. I looked at him in the rearview mirror. He was flopped in his car seat, his head propped by the side rest, his eyes glazed and staring.  I spun round and took him home. 

I too am blatted by the lurgy, and had a wretched day at The Office.  Being positive, I saw a colleague on maternity leave who’s returned one of Son 1’s potties for Son 2 to try.  But throughout the day I got more fluey, and I really shouldn’t be driving.  Just little things go, like my ability to judge speed and distance. After work I took about 4 goes to reverse park the car outside the house. I looked up and Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and Son 2 were sitting in the window clapping and laughing. Wonder Nanny said they’d been fine, they’d both had a sleep, she’d kept them calpol-d up and they’d had a quiet day. She left. 

And they sprouted horns.  I was feeling dog rough.  i put Son 2 in his cot, sang him his lullabies, did my usual Night Night with my hand on him, left to go into Son 1 and hell was unleashed. He cried and screamed. “Mummeee! Mummmmeee! Mummmeee!” It went on and on and on. One of those Oh-God-I-Should-Have-Gone-To-Him-Earlier-But-I-Can’t-Now-Because-He’ll-Just-Scream-Forever-Next-Time horrors.  All through Son 1’s stories. When it finally stopped, I tiptoed in to check him. And he was still awake, lying exhausted on the pillow. As soon as he saw me he started again. I gave him milk, held him, put him down, stroked him, kissed him, said Good Night and left. “Mummmeeee!”  I got down from Son 1 at 20 to 8.  By 8 he was already downstairs again, crawling around under the washing.  “Come child, you have delighted us enough,” I said, serenely.  All right then.  Cold-ridden, tired, pissed off, I snapped. “Bugger off Son 1, this is Mummy Time.” He burst into tears and scampered upstairs. I ate, worked and rang a colleague from The Office. And again, down came a little ghostie. ”I couldn’t hear you and I was worried sick about you.” I put a fleece on him, gave him a hot chocolate and let him sit there and watch the mundanity of my late evening world of housework.  “Can I wee in the potty?” he asked.  “No,” I said, 17 times. “Why?” “Because I can’t be bothered to clean it out.”  He went for a wee. He did it in the potty. He tried to empty it himself.  I cleared up the wee from the loo seat, the side of the loo, the loo floor and washed the potty out.

1.  All Aboard

2.  Swimming With A Seal

3.  The First Round

The better forecast of the two days, so we decided to get on The Boat.  The Man warned that all The Boat was good for was travelling, because he’s ripped the cabin out so there’s nothing inside. We aimed at a barbecue.  We were up late, the boys were fractious, The MAn and I were snappy. We could probably all have done with a quiet day in. But a sunny day was on offer… so we invited two friends and their three year old. Last time we went on The Boat, Son 2 aged 21 m had to be carried down to the Yacht Club. Today I asked him, in his sun hat and lifejacket, if he wanted to be carried or walk. “Wor,” he said, and off he went.   The Boat was in a terrible state. Fibre glass strands and bird dung everywhere.. little bits of splinter-sized wood chippings, pieces of plastic and steel.   We swept up and fed the boys fruit while we waited for The Man and Other Dad to arrive in the dinghy.

Just a middle aged couple and their large dog were on The Beach By The Lighthouse when we turned up. Son 1 and 3 year old were in raptures, Son 2 splashed, sat and dug.  The Man barbied sausages. The big boys played pirates in the caves. Other boats turned up, other dinghies ended up on the beach. It was  heaven.  Incredibly hot.  I swam in the sea.  Absolutely freezing. Coldest yet. I swam out to The Boat, the waves slopping me in the face if I mis-timed them. Turquoise water, golden sand, not another soul in the sea.  Except one shiny, sleek-headed seal, about 50 yards away, watching me in a horribly human way. I wasn’t sure about Swimming With Seals. They are very large, their teeth are big, their breath is rank and I didn’t fancy being goosed from below by a fast-moving two-tonne sea beast. 

Son 2 was getting less and less able to cope, and more and more clingy. The MAn took us back to The Boat, where son 2 refused to go to sleep.  There were portholes to look through… and bits to pull off the walls.  Back at the Yacht Club, more friends were having a drink. I cannot resist the longer evenings, so although I knew Son 2 would make us suffer… I thought we might get away with it.  Son 1 sat on a bar stool with a two-pound coin and asked for two orange juices with straws.  The children ran round. Smack. Son 1 pushed Son 2 over. His nose started to bleed.  Two drinks later, we brought them home, like Good Parents.