1.  Losing My Religion

2.  Shiny Happy People

3.  Everybody Hurts

I’ve just read a Sunday supplement piece about a businesswoman who says her spare time is spent “relaxing with the children.”  A dazzling light has broken through the heavens and rays are streaming down.  I think relaxing with the children would solve my entire life.  My spare time is spent cleaning up after the children, nagging the children, cooking for the children, refereeing the children, yelling at the children and hoping and hoping they’ll fall asleep so I can sit down.  This morning, they would have slept in till 0830, only someone changed the clocks. It has been a very long day indeed. I offered Son 1 aged 5y 1m a trip out, but he wanted to stay in, watch telly and make cakes.  I will Share Time with them, I thought. I sat down. Son 2 aged 2y 1m climbed up on the table with the glass top. “Get down,” I said. “That’s dangerous.” He ignored me. I picked him up and put him on the ground. He climbed up again. “No,” I said. “It’s dangerous.” When he got up for the third time, I went downstairs to the kitchen, Refusing To Pay Attention To His Behaviour. I made fairy cake mix. I mixed yeast for bread-making.   The boys trailed downstairs, pulled chairs up to the worktops and bickered. I struggled with the dough. ”If it’s a bit sticky, add some more flour,” said Annabel K.  It was liquid.  We poured half a packet of bread flour in.  I gave two splodges to Son 2, and 2 to Son 1.  Son 2 ignored them and ate butter from the packet with his fingers. Son 1 tried to make animal shapes like the picture, but just superglued his fingers together.  I put his chair next to the sink so he could wash his hands. Son 2 was up there in a flash.  Rubber gloves, sponges, cups, knives and tubs were all flung in.  I took him upstairs and he screamed and squirmed in protest.

We watched “Big.”  Many many years ago, The Man and I were Tom Hanks fans. Way before Philadelphia. Way before his films got meaty and meaningful.  “Big” was always a favourite, and I’d bought the DVD cheap and never watched it.  I told Son 1 the story outline. “A boy wishes he was Big, and his wish comes true.” The film started. Son 1 got his first sight of Josh, aged 12. ”He’s already Big,”  he said, giving a little window into his world which has stayed with me all day. He lived the story: ”Can he change back?” every five minutes till I put him out of his misery. At the salient point: “Is he going to stay Big?”  And “Why doesn’t she make a wish too?” as Josh’s girlfriend runs after him.  “What would you wish for if you found that machine?” I asked. “I would wish for every day to be my birthday.”

Spaghetti hoops and home made bread rolls for lunch. They ate the spaghetti hoops. Nanna came round and we iced the fairy cakes.  I gave the boys dolly mixtures - a gift from Nanna last time - to use as decorations.  Very few made it on to the cakes. They iced and they drew, oblivous to the sprinkles stuck to their faces like multi-coloured five-day stubble. They ate cakes for pudding after tea, and were high as kites when I took them upstairs for bed.  I bathed Son 1, got him in his pyjamas and cleaned his teeth. I bathed Son 2, got him out of the bath and he hid under the towel to play “boo,” like normal. He came out, giggling, burped, and then threw up all over me, getting my hair, ear, arm and trousers. It was fish for tea, and it stunk like seal vomit. “Clear it up, it’s horrible,” said Son 1. I gathered up soiled towels and clothes, showered, and changed into my pyjamas. There was a loud thump from the bedroom. Son 2 had tipped a Christmas Cactus over on the carpet, breaking the plant and scattering compost and plants over the floor. I cleared that up as well.

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.  Good Food

2.  Good News

3.  Good Thing

Lunch With Nanna.  She’d invited us out. Son 1 aged 4y 9m picked Pizza Express. We went along with the idea. Son 1 ate no breakfast or tea on Friday.. and nothing but cake, crisps, chocolate crispies, chews, lollies and biscuits yesterday.  We figured he would probably go for their cheese and tomato pizza and dough balls. Not exactly Annabel Karmel-compliant, but at least a nod to the three major food groups. On the way to The Square we stopped off to get sandals for Son 2 aged 21m.   ”Choos.” He was delighted. He showed them to Nanna as soon as he saw her. Poor Son 1. Clarks could do nothing with his 11E slender feet.   The boys were ok during lunch. Son 1 cleared his plate, but didn’t quite stay sitting at the table, and ate quite a bit of his garlic butter with his fingers. Son 2 climbed out of his highchair (broken strap) three-quarters of the way through.  But considering what they’re capable of, a success. On the way back we saw Glamorous 22 year old Graduate. “Choos,” said Son 2.

And then at 1545 I wheeled them out again to go the Family Service at The Church. Son 1, who likes the crafts,  had decided he wanted to go.   Today we made  bricks and building and drawing houses.  A few more people there than previously.  Son 2 made a brick and a house. Son 1 coloured an orange house with a pink roof.  He then refused to go to the front of the church for the service because he wanted to make a house too. So Son 2 and I did The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock. And then into the Church Hall for tea.  “I made vegetarian cottage pie last time and you didn’t come,” said the chef, doling out sausage and mash and beans for the boys. Sorry, I said.  Son 1, after his lunchtime triumph, ate mash and had seconds of beans. I don’t think the sausages met his standards.    Another mother there had worked with The Man 15 years ago. 15 years ago The Man used his pet name for me in all his conversations.  She still thinks that’s my name, and that’s what she calls me. I wonder when he stopped using it. 

When the boys were in bed I went for a run.  8pm and a warm, close evening with great light.  I’ve never noticed the amount of roses in front gardens along The Terrace before. I’m still running-and-walking while I get back into it, but as usual, I’m very glad I went.  There and back I was dive-bombed by a seagull, clearly protecting a nest or fledgings. And on the final straight, the seagulls were clacking at top volume near The Hotel With The River View.  A small grey chick was perched unsteadily on the sloping slate roof.  I ran on.  A cat sat outside a house on The Terrace, staring at the gulls.  Today’s positive lesson? At least when I make a mistake parenting, no-one tries to eat the children.

1.  The school run

2.  The school lunch

3. The milk bottle

Marathon session today.  Me and two boys to get up and out of the house early enough to get to the New Nursery, drop off Son 1 aged 3y 11m, get back to the  Old Nursery, drop off Son 2 aged 1, and then get back to The Office.  Then I needed to collect Son 1, collect Son 2, get them home, wait for Wonder Nanny to arrive and get back to the New Nursery for parents’ evening.  I did it, but I was up at 0530, didn’t get lunch, and could only grab some breadsticks and houmous with the boys before I had to pile out again.

Son 2 had his first Big Boy Food at nursery.  I’ve made him lunch for his first six months there; now he is 1, I am moving him on to their food.  He usually has carefully and lovingly made organic baby mush from one of my many Annabel Karmel cookbooks . (”Sweet potato and lentil is his favourite/he needs iron he’d better have spaghetti bolognese/salmon and tomato sauce, I think, to give him some Omega 3.”)  He had sausages and spaghetti hoops and ate it all.  

Wonder Nanny put the boys to bed.  Did their bath, gave Son 2 a bottle and then read to Son 2 till he fell asleep.  Here I sit, having not breastfed my baby at night for the first time in his life.  And having not been involved in his bedtime…  He’s 1 now, I’ve done really well with him and now I can try all this stuff.  I’ve been trying to cut the quantity of milk I give him in the morning, ready to cut that feed first when The Man gets back.  But I think I’ll see how I get on.        

1.  Kip

2.  Visitors

3.  Kip

The moment, at 1am, when The Man took over Son 2 aged 10m who had been howling for two hours, was a Good Thing.  Jaysus, once that child gets over-tired there is nothing to be done with him.  I held him ,I rocked him, I lay beside him on the double bed.  Each time he went to sleep, and each time, as soon as I put him in the cot… MELTDOWN.   So loud it hurt my teeth. And then he woke up again at 0530.  And so did Son 1 aged 3y 10m.  The day began.

Murky rain.  One set of Wednesday friends went off to see grandparents today.   So the others came round here.  “Don’t get out the pirate stuff,” I said to Son 1.  “It’s too dangerous for Son 2 and the nearly-2 year old little brother.”  So he got the pirate stuff out.  There is tons of it.  Peter Pan pirates, Playmobil pirates, pirates from France, Ghouly pirates from Woolies… all with their own little guns and cuffs and paddles and swords.  Collecting up the tiny coins from a Playmobil treasure chest, I wondered aloud what kind of oddball toy designer inserts something into little children’s homes specifically aimed at choking their smaller siblings.  “Just write 4+ on the package, it’ll be fine.”  “And what are you eating?” I asked Son 2.  I fished in his mouth.  A tiny coin from a Playmobil treasure chest.   

Son 1’s sleep was very disturbed by the midnight banshee, and he was shattered today.  Misbehaving monstrously while our friends were here: “I’ve never seen him like this before,” said the other mum.  So after they left I put Son 2 to bed, and then him.  Both asleep at 2.30.  I cleared up the lunch things, tidied the toys, did some washing, sorted the veg box and made dinner.  Braised beef and sweet potato. 2nd stage weaning. Annabel Karmel.  I quadrupled the quantities to make enough for Mother, Son 1 and Son 2 for dinner, and then to freeze for baby food.  The Man rang.  He had planned an overnight business trip but cancelled because of the weather.  He’ll try again tomorrow.   He thought the casserole was nice.  A bit sweet, but very nice.

1.  Coffee 

2.  Lunch

3.  Tea

Went out with friends last night; really nice evening at the Beach Caff, a couple of glasses of wine, sat outside in an easterly till 9.30, then light bites late…  talked about children (a little bit,) jobs, men, books and Other People We Know.  And that was after we took the boys to the Yacht Club to talk about the christening… which meant they were in bed late and I was in bed late.  And I was up early, and they slept in.  So I got the first coffee of the day on my own downstairs, picking through the unread newspapers of the last few days. More than just a Best Thing… absolute luxury.

The Man had had text messages from some other friends yesterday evening. This morning he asked me to call them and set something up while he took  Son 1 aged 3 and a half for his swimming lesson.  I’d decided that now Son 2 is 8m, it’s unfair to expect him to sit beside the hot swimming pool while Son 1 has his class.  Much better parenting to keep him at home for activities and quality time with me.  We went shopping.  And he howled and howled.  A very-made-up  in-your-face old lady sympathised with me in the queue in M and S… “He’s very tired,” I said.  “He’s just had enough.”  So, while I was putting the shopping through, she dived round me, crouched beside Son 2 with her nose three inches from his and said “Wassamatta then?”   A sonic boom was expelled from the pram. 

Took Son 2 home, then took Son 1 back into The Town because I’d promised him he could come to the  cake shop to order the christening cake.  And ran into the friends who’d been trying to get hold of The Man last night.  Left Son 1 with them, went back, rounded up The Man, sent hin down to find them, fed Son 2, bought him a jar of baby food and went to join them all for lunch.  Son 1 and their son, who’s 2, were both off their heads with fatigue, which made the whole thing a little too child-centred. Still it was lovely seeing them.     

Made the much-mocked (by me) Annabel Karmel marinated sole in crushed cornflakes for tea.  Son 1 said it was disgusting.  The Man said it was overcooked.  I shouldn’t have substituted spring onions for shallots in the marinade.  Oh well, let’s hope that’s the only mistake I make this year.  I’ve been shattered today, so I went to bed at nine.