1.  Red Eye

2.  Red Alert

3.  Red Roses

I’ve been up with Son 1 aged 5y 1m every night this week.  He’s cried, he’s wanted water, he’s wanted squash, he’s needed Calpol, he’s been hot, he’s been cold, he’s climbed into bed with his Mum.  Then last night, he slept like a stone, all the way through, and in the early hours of this morning was still in the same position he’d fallen asleep in.  Me?  Up since 0230.   Doing Office emails at 0400.  Crashed out at 6am, with two boys buzzing me.  “EithergodownstairsandseeDaddy, orcomeintobedandgivemeacuddle,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. Son 2 aged 2y 2m pad-padded off, Son 1 clambered clumsily over the pillows. Little arms went around my neck. ”Son 1 gone downstair,” said a high, little voice in my ear.   It was Son 2, and he was gorgeous.  

The Office were strangely unenthusiastic about the presence of someone with a rattling loud cough, splashing sneezes and Scarlet Fever at home, and this afternoon I gave up and left early. I rang the Surgery for Son 1’s strep test result. Not back. Try again on Monday.  No hurry there then. No wonder they whack the children straight onto antibiotics rather than wait for confirmation.  Back home, Wonder Nanny said Son 1 had seemed much better today. He’d eaten well at lunchtime and said his throat wasn’t sore any more. His rash seems to be lighter too.  It hasn’t gone - it’s still all over him, but it’s gone from being very red to pinky.   He is itching his head like mad.  Yes I have checked and checked and I don’t think it’s livestock. I wonder whether he’s got the rash on his scalp and the hair is irritating it. 

“What about Son 2?” Everyone has asked.  Bouncing around like Tigger.  “Mummy come back work.”  He needed to be picked up, to be cuddled, to be held.   I had a pile of Office calls to take and make.  Son 2 found it very difficult to keep away.  He’s adorable.  Lovely to tickle, to cuddle, to hold, to talk to, to hold hands with, to kiss.  Even The Man sighed this evening “Son 2 is beautiful, isn’t he?”  At bedtime, Son 1 has his bath; I read to Son 2. Then Son 2 has his bath, I get him out, he cuddles me, he lies on his back on the floor and pulls my face next to him, he fights me as I clean his teeth, he plays while I read him his dinosaur book, he lies in his cot and pulls me down to him so my face is next to his.  I Have Never Been Loved Like This Before.

1.  Looking

2.  Listening

3.  Learning

Hell fire it was hard this morning.  Son 1aged 5y 1m has needed navy blue swimming trunks since term started.  Here we are after our three week half term, with his baggy white Monsoon shorts still damp and packed somewhere in the suitcases.  I was in Asda at 9pm last night pushing a trolley round George looking for trunks. I asked an assistant. They are, apparently, seasonal items. They come in to the store in Spring and go in the Sale in July. And that’s it.  My fallback plan was a pair of  navy and red Aged 3 swimming boxers I’d found in a bag of hand-me-downs before we went away.  But what had I done with them.  Wonder Nanny had also been sorting clothes. She’d taken my random pile and put the clothing away in the most logical place. Which was where I found them.  This was a Good Thing.  Son 2 aged 2y 1m cried and clung, but Son 1 got to School and I got to The Office on time. 

At The Office a colleague had done something so Useful and Important for me that my first morning  back was a breeze. I took her out to lunch to say thank you, blasting holes in my Holiday Resolutions of watching my spending and my eating.  I managed to offload a great pile of Nachos on to her plate in revenge.  In the afternoon, the contrasts.  The Man rang. Son 2’s Godfather is gravely ill again. And then I had a long conversation with someone I know whose young daughter, nearly three, is terminally ill.  “We never recorded her voice while she could still speak,” he said.  Wonder Nanny, who is very qualified, very competent and very caring, took Son 2 round to play there about a month ago. The father felt it was a success, so I’ll ask her to go again.  There is something very crap about the Mother who sends her Nanny round to help the desperate family.  But I just don’t know what to do. 

I picked Son 1 up in the closing minutes of After School Club.  He had his school photos, which are gorgeous.  At home, I just wanted to cut out pictures of my two gorgeous children and put them in their little cardboard frames, ready to send to Grandparents and Aunties.  The real-life versions of the two gorgeous children scrapped and screeched and shrieked for my attention.  Which they got. Words from earlier floated back:  “Her span is only going to be short so we’re trying to make sure it’s the best life possible.”  I will be less snappy with my children.

1.  Big Boys

2.  New Boys

3.  Hello Boys

The Rat Man says we can ring him if we find any more bodies, and he will come and clear them up.  This is a Good Thing, as The Man has left on another Business Trip. Unfortunately, The Man cannot remember which Rat Man we are using.  He found him in the Yellow Pages, he’s very nice, and he’s been back in his discreet, unmarked van to check his boxes and put more toxic waste in them.  But frankly I’d tolerate a van saying THIS HOUSE HAS RATS with a big arrow pointing at us if  it meant his mobile number was stencilled on the side as well.   The Man left at 3am, so yet again I am wandering around like a zombie.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m ended up in the Big Bed, and came down shortly after I got up.  He used to flit around like a little wraith.  He now sounds like a team of rugby players coming down the stairs. It was slightly spooky listening to him… knowing there was no other adult in the house and yet hearing great clunking footsteps powering down. And then a little figure in Lightning McQueen pyjamas pads in, holding his willy and rubbing his eyes. 

I had to go to The City, which is the best part of a two-hour drive away. When I’d finished, I went into The Shopping Centre, because I’d promised Son 1 I’d go to the Disney Shop to look for squirty toys to take on holiday.  And then… Hold The Front Page, Don’t Faint, Shoot Me Down In Flames… they had a set of Peter Pan figures.  Including The Children and The Dog.  This is an Excellent Thing.  I have spent hours on the internet, trying to find the children for Son 1. I have trailed around Disney Shops (Oxford Street: “Yes we’ve got them upstairs because they’re not very popular.” 20 mins later: “Sorry we’ve sold out.”)  We have plastic Peters in several sizes, a finger puppet Peter and Wendy, three or four Captain Hooks, a fair few crocodiles, several handfuls of  Indians and Lost Boys and pirates, pirates everywhere.   Son 1’s Peter Pan obsession began with a charity shop Disney book I bought for 49p in Feb 2007. He got his first Peter Pan things the following Christmas, and he has longed for John and Michael ever since.  So what I’m saying is, yes I bought him yet another toy.  No, I haven’t thrown out/sorted out any of his old ones. And yes, Son 2 aged 2y 1m had to have a Nemo squirty toy bath set to be fair. 

There were comments about more presents from Granny and Grandad, who were waiting with the boys because I was way too late for Wonder Nanny.  Never mind. The Best Thing today was The New Swimming Costume. Not the one I wanted, not one I would have picked out… but it’s slimming, it fits nicely and it was in the sale.  I was excited for a few minutes because the label said 14E.  In better light, I realised that was the Australian sizing. I’d been worried I was stuck with the skanky baggy swimsuit for the holiday. I got put off the Bravissimo website because I needed to think of a password. (Really sorry, can’t. Got a pile of passwords to remember anyway, and a head so full of Other Stuff that not one more fact can be jemmied in. )  I tried another website. Ordered a beautiful costume on Wednesday. Ticked the box for faster postage to beat the strikes. And got an email saying they’re not expecting them in till next week. Today really was my Last Chance.  I don’t think I’ve worn a halter neck in my life but Granny thinks it’s great.

1.  Fed And Watered

2.  The Breezes And The Sunshine

3.  Soft, Refreshing Rain

Son 1 aged 5 and I arrived at School. It’s Harvest Festival Day.  His class, all dressed as scarecrows, is singing a song. Son 1 will pop up wearing a straw hat. I said I would try and get there. And was then told the time.  2pm.  No bloody chance.  “Are lots of parents coming?” I asked Mrs Smiley. She smiled, as she always does. “Oh yes. There’ll be a very good turn out.”  Outside the school, I rang Nanna, and Wonder Nanny. They can go. “Have we got to take something?” asked Nanna. “I’ve got strawberries.” Nope. I sent in a bag of groceries earlier in the week. I hunted high and low in the cupboards. I found two tins of Lite Evaporated Milk which were Best Before Apr 2005… and a tinned Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie so old it didn’t have a sellby date. I looked for things I wouldn’t use.  But deducing that someone getting a School food parcel would not feel too grateful for Chestnut Puree and Aubergine Pesto, I put tea, coffee, tuna, baked beans, soup and tinned tomatoes in a bag instead.  

Not the easiest day I’ve had at The Office, mainly because I did 16 hours yesterday and I’m knackered. Halfway through I remembed a snag in the Harvest Festival plan. I’d promised Son 1 an after-school trip to Tesco.  Last night Son 2 aged 2y 1m had done some blackbelt tantrumming because I wasn’t there… and Son 1 had behaved beautifully.  Plus he’s managed to get up for School for more than 6 weeks. I rang Wonder Nanny. Can they take him to Tesco as well if he wants to go.

When I got back home Son 1 was throwing small plastic balls which transform into aliens around. Son 2 was sitting in his highchair eating strawberries and sweets, giggling. ”I wan’ si’ on Mummy’s lap.”  It was late, so we rounded the up for Books And Bath And Bed.  Maybe The Man was making up the behaviour last night. Could this shiny-cheeked cherub with dancing eyes, sitting in the shower, laughing and splashing Mummy, possibly be the roaring banshee who was put to bed without a bath, without teeth cleaning, and without anything?  Teenaged Niece bought the boys new pyjamas. Son 1 was dashing in bright red Lightning McQueen, Son 2 in oversized bright green Buzz Lightyear. Another Good Thing: Son 2 seems to be getting a bit bigger.  If it carries on he may even get into 12- 18m trousers…

1.   Hoarse

2.   Croaking

3.   Rasping

I’ve got a throat infection from somewhere. Voice has gone, feeling hot and bothered and sleepy. Hey ho. I spent today travelling back after a night away because of an Office Thing yesterday.  I was with three colleagues, so I didn’t have to drive. We spent hundreds of miles talking, eating sherbert lemons and ringing our mates. I was aiming at a 3.15pm appointment at Son 1 aged 5’s School - the replacement appointment for the Parents’ evening I can’t make.  I got to the School in time, and then got stuck in the queue of cars waiting to go in. Another advantage to being  a Working Mother. You have genuinuely no idea what happens at the end of the school day.

Mrs Smiley the Teacher was lovely. Happy with Son 1’s reading, maths, communication, It, arts and crafts and PE.  He is Popular And Has Lots Of Friends. A bit of a discussion about how sometimes he seems dreamy, unresponsive and slow to respond. Not as smiley on some days.  How’s his sleeping? Does he share a room with Son 2?  Ah, I croaked. We have had rather a mad Birthday Fest September.  He could be… er.. knackered. “Well I wouldn’t of course say that…” she said. Subtext: That’s Exactly What I Mean.   Poor old Son 1. And then of course I forgot to mention the midnight bed-hopping. “What is the first thing in your head when you wake up at night?” I asked once, wondering if he was having bad dreams. “I think: ‘I’ll go and find Mummy,’” he said. 

Son 1 was excited because he’s completed his third sticker chart. As we drove back I asked him how he’d  got on that morning with Granny and Daddy when I was away. “Don’t know.”  “Was it brilliant, all right, or Truly Terrible.” “Truly Terrible.” “What about last night?”  “That was Truly Terrible too.” Son 2 aged 2 was delighted to see me, and then wouldn’t let go.  Neither he nor Son 1 like my creature-from-the-black-lagoon voice.  Granny had made them individual cottage pies for tea, and they did all right.    Nanna rang. Teenaged Niece is staying for a College Open Day. Can we see them tomorrow. We are taking Granny back to the Airport, but we will try, I said.

1.  Good Behaviour

2.  Best Behaviour

3.  Bad Behaviour

The Man got back yesterday, so this morning was easier.  We were at School on time, and I had, for the first time this week, got the right combination of books in Son 1 aged 5’s bag. The Jolly Phonics book; we are currently doing e-e-e-e-e-e, the Reading Book; in which Biff, Chip and Kipper’s no-need-to-work parents take them places, have fun and cook Proper Food, and the Homework Book with Things To Draw and Letters To Write.  I got a smiley sticker from Son 1’s Teaching Assistant as a reward, and I wore it with pride.

Driving, I stopped to take a phone call, and pulled over on a yellow line - no parking from 1 May till 30 September.  There was one other car on it.  I reversed back towards it. Crunch.  Oh hell.  It was a proper crunch, not just a bump, to be waved off with my dear old Dad’s “Bumpers Is For Bumping” motoring motto.  Opposite me, a coach driver, sat outside a hotel, watching. I took a long time on my phone call. And I thought about the Good Samaritan who put my Nappy Bag, containing cards, purse and phone, on my doorstep after I’d left it in the road. I wrote my note. “Sorry, I’ve reversed into your car. If there’s any damage call Serenedays on XXXXXXXXXX.”  I got out to look at the other car.  I’m not very good at cars. I have to read the make and model from the back. This one was a 4.2 litre Jaguar with a personalised number plate.  Ah. And I thought there was a scuff on the number plate, and a possible scuff on the gleaming paintwork. But I didn’t dare touch them to see if they’d come off. Not a mark on mine. I left my note on the windscreen, and off I went.

I looked in the homework book after I’d picked up Son 1 from school.  He only got 2/10, which I thought was a bit harsh.  Until I realised it was the date. He and Son 2 aged 2 wolfed vegetable soup and pasta for tea, and then he wanted to go to the Yacht Club.  We went down, but it was closed. ”Oh come on, will someone open the bar,” said Son 1. What kind of parents have their five-year-old queueing outside pubs?  We trailed away, and then met one of the bar staff arriving to open up. “It’s October,” she said. ”Winter opening times.” The boys played on the grass with some other children. The tide was high and the river was still. We sat and watched the boats on the moorings and the reflected lights from the docks.   The Jaguar owner didn’t ring. And now I am a bit worried he (why do I know it’s a ‘he’?) just thought it was an excuse to leave my name and number on a nice car…

1.  Multi-tasking

2.  Multiplying

3.  Multi-coloured

Bone Tired. It has been a very long week.  I don’t know about children getting tired when they start reception but the five early starts a week are killing me.  We’ve been whirling at a cracking rate since the party last Saturday.  Son 1 aged 5 is truly dropping.  He is a saint.  Poor child. Opens a massive pile of presents on Tuesday and  hasn’t actually had the time to look at them since.   I wrote him 12 thank you letters last night. Because I Don’t Have Enough To Do.  I managed to work out what all but 2 children had given him. It made me late starting Office work and I fell asleep over my laptop.  This morning he was, all things considered ,a little angel.  Out of the house on top, breakfasted, teeth cleaned, telly watched and clutching his thank you notes. He posted them in the other children’s drawers as soon as he got to school.

Another high octane day at The Office, although there was a Friday lunchtime drink which was nice. Too much talk about young children though. I do realise that when people ask after your children they’re expecting one word answers… it’s just I never manage.  I picked Son 1 up from After School Club and he looked cross and wrecked.  “He’s been sitting looking out for you,” said the Teaching Assistant.  I heard a subtext which probably wasn’t there: “Can’t you pick him up any earlier, it is Friday.”  He’s got another full sticker card.  We went to Tesco, and again, he was fantastic. He was allowed some new Ben 10 pants for his stickers. He wanted plasticine. Or a comic. Or a toy.  40+ new toys lying around the house and he’s still nagging.

When we got back, The MAn had taken Son 2 aged 2 down to the Yacht Club. I took Son 1 for a quickie before I had to start work again. The Man and Son 2 were with two parents we know with their daughters.  Son 2 spotted me through the window, laughed, waved, and came running out to see me. The boys behaved disgracefully.  Loud shrieking, loud shouting, pushing over, pestering…  Textbook out. Look up symptoms. Ah. They are also shattered. I think what we all need is a quiet, relaxing weekend. We have a trip to the Olde Sweet Shoppe, a wedding and a Boat Trip planned. Looking on the bright side, Flossy and Coupon are flourishing, seem to think the new tank is great and are very relaxing to watch.  And the fish shop woman said we can have some more after four days or so.

1.  Nothing But Blue Skies

2.  Obstacles

3.  Here Is The Rainbow

We are improving.  We can get out of the house a bit earlier, and in to School a bit earlier.  A bright, fresh morning with a blue sky. Son 1 aged 4y 11m is still in shorts; I was in a silk print frock. I have no idea what Son 2 aged 2 wore. He was in his pyjamas when we left, and in his (different) pyjamas when we got back. A completely different set of parents dropping off when we are On Time, as opposed to There By The Skin Of Our Teeth. I’ve never seen any of them before.  Although I do think it’s quite funny that it is, indeed, Always The Same Ones who are late when we are.

At lunchtime I went out to shop for party food.  M and S. No I didn’t remember the bloody vouchers. Or the bloody carrier bags.  I gained three more party guests on the way.  One is a little vegetarian boy who usually comes with his vegetarian parents.   I’ve been vegetarian for 26 years and even I don’t really know what we eat. I bought quiche and  Cheese and onion savoury rolls.  I don’t want little 5 year old X to sit and stare at the table and not have a choice.  “I can’t decide if Son 1 aged 4m is going to be a vegetarian or not,” I said to the Breastfeeding Counsellor, way back in Jan 2005. “Well you don’t need to decide yet do you?  He’s 17 weeks old.”  “Oh it’s not for now, I’m making baby food for the freezer for when i go back to work and I’m just starting 9m in the Annabel Karmel book.”  I was a bit more in control in Those Days.  I went for meat.   I didn’t want him to be the odd one out at parties.

When I picked him up he had made me a bar of soap, and completed his sticker chart for a Certificate Of Achievement. “I’m the first to get it in my class,” he said.  For two weeks he has talked of nothing else. “I am going to smile so I can get a sticker.” “I am going to help so I can get a sticker.” He seems two years older than he was two weeks ago.  I let him talk me into a trip to Tesco, because I needed serving plates for tomorrow. He behaved impeccably.  Threw a few Smoothies squashies and cheese stringie things into the trolley, but I kind of regard those as collateral damage if I’m barmy enough to take him shopping. Back home, The Man had remembered to buy serving plates too. The phone kept ringing, Another three party guests.  We are now up to… er… 25.  I can do 24 Scooby Party bags. 24 Scooby plates and 24 Scooby cups. After that it’s Tesco Value. They won’t all come. Sweepstake anyone?  I think 7 no-shows on the day. Maybe two we’re not expecting to turn up. I am The Woman Who Cooked Her Baby Food Four Months In Advance.  I will take a carrier bag of Spares.

1.  The Golden Bell

2.  Birthday Boy

3.  Teddy Bears

4.  Night Skies

Son 2 is 2.  Amazing.  Funny, determined, physical, loving, bright, gorgeous. And incredible that if I hadn’t taken tablets we wouldn’t have him.  Conceived the month after we lost Son 1.5.  I took the advice of a doctor who said: “Well, you could take some time to recover from the miscarriage but you’re 42 and every month counts.” I can still remember a dark December evening, Clomid packet in hand, thinking about C S Lewis: “Make your choice, adventurous stranger;  Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.”   We struck the bell… and What Followed got  a handprint kit, Playmobil fish, fish books, a crocodile, a crab, and of course half a fish tank.

Son 1 aged 4y 11m was beside himself for the present opening. Son 2 loved having Happy Birthday sung to him.  I took Son 1 off to school, in the end having to bribe him with parma violets from next Saturday’s party bags. Back home, Wonder Nanny and I pushed Son 2 in the Big Pram over to the Beach By The Garden. Son 2 fell asleep on the way over, and woke within two minutes of us arriving. I’d pictured a day like Wednesday, but the wind was ferocious, so I hired a windbreak. The sea was mighty, great big surfy breakers crashing up against the high tideline.  Son 2 dug and went to the sea for water - taking me with him each time.  We had lunch from the Beach Shack, and then  I went Swimming In The Sea. I have decided this is now a tradition. Every year I will go Swimming In The Sea on Son 2’s birthday.  I couldn’t swim - the surf was too strong. I just swam into each waves, swam/sprang up over the top of each six footer, and had to turn my back into them so they’d break around me and not wipe me out.  I still got wiped out, and rolled around in the shallows.  When I took my costume off it was full of small stones.  We had ice creams and walked back.

Wonder Nanny and Son 2 went upstairs to watch telly, and then played outside.  I got the food ready for the Birthday Tea.  Not a party of course, that will happen next Saturday.  Cold chicken, cooked yesterday, ham and peanut butter sandwiches, hummous with cucumber, pepper, carrot and breadsticks, hula hoops and cocktail sausages. Nanna arrived. Then Son 1, his face worried through the glass of the front door “Have I missed the party?” Before he’d got to Son 2, one set of Wednesday brothers had arrived, then the other. Then the sole girl, with her big sister who was on her way to Beavers. They all brought Teddies for a Teddy Bear picnic.  The boys sat with their teddies for five seconds, stuffed their faces and then ran off to get all the toys out.  I sent out a plate of jelly tot and smartie mini fairy cakes.  Son 1 and Best friend took handfuls and sat behind The Man’s chair in the lounge stuffing their faces. Son 2’s Godmother arrived with Godbrother and Godsister. “Thank heaven you’re here Godbrother,” I said. “We need a light for the candles.” “I’ve stopped smoking now,” he said. Godbrother will be 14 at the end of this month.  We had a Monkey birthday cake and a singing candle with five others.  It was impossible keeping five bigger boys from blowing them out, but we kept re-lighting them and Son 2 seemed happy with his efforts. The cake vanished. The Man let off Poundland table top fireworks in the flower bed. 

After we all went to the Yacht Club with Nanna and the Parents Of The Girls.  Son 1 and Son 2 played with their golf set. Son 1 cried when he hit his ball into the river.  A scarily competent ten year old got in a dinghy and went and brought it back. We sat on benches outside, watching the boats, drinking and talking and talking and drinking. Jupiter shone large in the darkening sky.  “Look at that lovely star Mummy,” said Son 1. “It’s not a star, it’s a planet.” “How do you know?”  “The stars are small and far up in the sky.  The planets are big and nearer the horizon.”  We came back at nine. It was a Good Day.

1.  Travelling

2.  Leaving

3.  Arriving

Today was an 18-hour day. Everyone in bed when I left. EVeryone in bed when I returned.  Fortunately Son 1 aged 4y 11m had crept into bed with us during the night. So I did get a bit of contact with him.    I had some Office work to do Miles Away and was out of the house at 0530, struggling with the Sat Nav.  The trip up was ok, apart from the bit where I got there. As always, the Sat Nav got me within 500 yards of my destination and then just seemed to give up.  Turn Right On Such And Such Road it said, as I sped along.  0 miles to the next turning. 

I set off for home at 1630 and had a long, hard trip back. Roadworks… Friday evening traffic…  I queued on motorways for miles and miles.  I took my knee highs off as I drove along, which probably isn’t in the Highway Code.  A colleague sent me a text. His father has been rushed to hospital, gravely ill.  Not expected to survive the weekend.  Horrible, horrible.   

I got back at 2245.  Checked out Son 1’s school things - he’d clearly been swimming, and he had a little Jolly Phonics book. We have to practise Snaky Ss with him.  I have a dream in which when he can read he sits quietly in the corner with a book. Or does that only happen with girls.