1.  Souvenirs

2.  Keepsakes

3.  A Lovesome Thing

Thank Heavens and Stars we didn’t have to get up for school.  Son 1 aged 5 was already in the Double Bed with us, Son 2 aged 2 roared: “I WANT MY MUMMY!” We brought him in with us, and tried to settle them both back to sleep.  “Big Poo.” Ah.  I switched the light on to change him. Son 1 reached over and switched it off again.  I took Son 2 into the bathroom.  I’d picked up two lollies on my Office trip, and had stuffed them in my vanity case.  He found them instantly. “I wan’ lollipop! I wan’ lollipop!” “No,” I said. “You can have one later.” “I wan’ lollipop!” He burst into tears. “Son 1 will go back to sleep if you keep the noise down,” called The Man. I took Son 2 downstairs. 

We had to take Granny back to the Airport, and decided we would stop off in the Big Town. Granny gave Son 1 a ten pound note, and it was smouldering in his pocket.  I needed to take back part of Son 1’s uniform - the shop had given me an aged 8 size instead of aged 5. Son 1 wanted to go to the Early Learning Centre to look at the toys.  The Man and Granny said they’d go and swap the clothes, and I could stay with the boys. “You can all go,” said Son 1. “I will look at toys and  wait for you.” “No,” said The Man. “We need someone with you to supervise.” “I have super eyes!” Son 1said. “I will look at all the toys and make sure I see everyone. I have the best eyes, don’t I Mummy?”  Son 1 chose a PIrates and Baddies spoons set, and Son 2 wanted a little farm.   How do people keep on top of toys?  We have so many we can barely all fit in The House, and The Man and I have Deep and Earnest (= Somewhat  Shouty) conversations about how The House is full of tat.   

We waved Granny off and went to Nanna’s. No-one in. I’d left my mobile at home. We climbed over various plants, spread out the car rug, got out the boys’ tuck box and a ball from the car, and settled down to read the Early Learning Centre catalogue.  Bees buzzed and big Red Admirals settled on the Michaelmas daisies. The sun shone.  The boys played with Son 2’s farm, and Son 1 whined that he wanted to make his pirates.  Son 1 needed a poo.  It was a difficult moment. All we could do was aim him at an open nappy and fold everything up into a nappy bag.  Son 2 announced he’d done a poo. We’d just used the last nappy. We’d waited an hour, but we had to go. Back home there was a message on the mobile.  Nanna and Teenaged Niece had been delayed.  I rang them and we agreed to meet tomorrow. It was good to be back in the Big Bed.

1.  Hand Prints

2.  Footsteps

3.  Hand Outs

We did a bit better today, although writing this in the evening, me on the sofa, and The Man on His Chair, we are pale, fatter, worn out shadows of our BC selves.  Son 2 aged 2 woke in the night wailing for Mummy. I have decided he can’t have Mummy, Daddy is his reward for antisocial behaviour, so off trogged The Man to sort him out. And then Son 1 aged 5 arrived in The Big Bed. It was 8am before anyone tipped me out of bed, which is a Good Thing. “Can we get Granny now?” asked Son 1, the moment his eyes snapped open.  He swiftly moved on to the plaster-of-paris handprint kits I gave both Son 1 and Son 2 for their birthdays. After breakfast, I said, sternly. You make a mould, and then pour plaster in, and then lo, a spooky Pompeii-style memento of the size your child used to be. Well I like them. And so does Son 1.   And they were cheap in TK Maxx. We messed up the first kit by spreading the gel too thin. And decided to make two out of Son 2’s. Son 1 sat, Perfect Child, his hand absolutely still, flat in the gel. Son 2 cried at having to keep his hand still. So we tried his foot. He cried. The gel crept up his fat little thigh.  We tried his hand again. He crumbled the rapidly-setting gel material in his hand.  He crumbled his mould, and then poured water from the jug in.   It was a craft material. We let him get on with it.  Later, ready to collect Granny from the Airport, the kitchen was spotless, and Son 2 was wearing the latest outfit she’d sent him.  While we were still tidying frantically elsewhere, he climbed up to and opened the plaster-of-paris packet from the handprint kit, sending stiff white powder down his Sunday best and all over the kitchen. I texted this to his Godmother, who has finally been released from hospital.  “I love Son 2,” she texted back. “You can buy him on eBay,” I replied. 

We had a coffee at the Airport while we were waiting for Granny’s plane. And then saw her, trailing forlornly outside, pulling her case on wheels. Oops. The Man and I are veterans of the Airport in the days when the sound of planes landing shook the paint off the tinpot terminal walls and rattled the fillings in your teeth.  It’s all got a bit bigger since then.  Son 1 and Son 2 were skipping with delight to see her. We played Spot The Yellow Car all the way home, with Granny proving almost as good as Son 1. A cup of tea, then lunch, and then we walked into The Town. Son 1 was still pingponging off the walls, and I decided we needed to Burn His Energy Off. He did very well, walking the 3/4 mile down to The Square and then some on the way back.  Climbing up onto every railing, going up and down every step, round and round every column, under every cycle rail and up onto every flat surface offering King Of The Castle potential.  It’s a form of Free Running. Only much, much, much slower.

I made Fish and Chips for tea, Sea Bass I bought from the fishmonger’s yesterday, home-made chips and peas. I was five minutes from landing when friends called round. They’d bought a jacket on ebay for their 3 year old. It was too big, but beautiful. Did we want it for Son 1 for the winter? Ooh yes please. And an unwanted bimini someone was throwing out, which they’d thought we’d like for The Boat.  “Bim bimini, Bim bimini,” sang The Man.  He’s got a great line in malapropism.  “Sit!” he said to Son 2.  “You sound like you’re training a dog,” I said. “I know. I feel like Mary Whitehouse sometimes.” “Do you mean Barbara Wodehouse?”" “Same thing.” Son 1, Son 2 and 3 year old played in the garden.  We drank and chatted. Our friends left. Tea was late.  Bedtime was late.  Oh well, only 2 weeks till half term. We can all have a bit of a rest then.

1. Vanity

2. Brevity

3. Immunity

Before Children I travelled around the UK. From about 1996, I put together a very nice set of matching luggage. Big suitcase, bigger suitcase. Garment carrier. Cabin bag. Vanity case. Before airline luggage restrictions, and before WAG bags, I used the vanity case for overnights, tripping from airport to airport in my suit and high heels, carrying my little statement square box. After luggage restrictions it became a bathroom receptacle - the place all the lotions and potions go to keep things tidy. Son 2 aged 15m loves to play with it, getting out all the bits and bobs and putting them back in again. This morning I put it on the floor for him, he opened it and waddled off. And then Son 1 aged 4y 2m went into the bathroom, lifted the loo seat, got distracted, arc-ed round and peed into my beautiful, expensive, link-with-the-old-me vanity case. Usually when he misses it’s a few spatters. This time it was sopping.

Son 1 and I had a great trip into Nursery. Out of the house on time, stuck in traffic lights, but then the roads so clear that he 1 said: “This is good, Mummy, isn’t it?” “Really good,” I said. “Where do you think everyone’s gone? What do they know that we don’t?” “They’ve gone to the hospital,” he said. “They’ve all got sore throats.” We parked by the mushrooms so Son 1 could walk on the muddy path. Part of which is now blocked by construction fences, a clinker road and diggers. Since Monday. We were so early I got to talk to the teachers. Son 1 sat down demurely at a table colouring in with a yellow pen while I went through the physio findings.

Son 2 had another jab. I took him - I hate the thought of his doing anything stressful without his Mummy. He had a great time playing with the toys at the Doctors’… he smiled and twinkled at the nurse… and then she stuck the needle in his fat thigh. His face disintegrated and he HOOWWLLED. And then he shrank away from her as she tried to mop up and put a plaster on his leg. It was the last one thankfully - I hate him having them. I looked on the bright side; it was great seeing Son 2 during the day for a bit. (But I still hate them.)