1.  Pampering

2.  Partying

3.  Parading

Son 2 aged 22m lies on his nappy mat, stinking.  I clear him up.  “Wipe,” he commands.  I can’t let him have one until he is Clean. Otherwise he will start wiping himself.  I give his nose a kiss. He pulls me down towards him. I rub noses back and forth, telling him “Eskimoses Rub Their Noses.” He hoots with laughter. “Again. Again. Again. “ 

We went to a Summer Party, at the home of some friends in The Country.   Parking in their field, a massive Bouncy Castle, and another newly-mown field for the children to play on, including a goal with loads of footballs, a water slide, a playhouse and a rocket launcher.   The friend, someone I worked with years ago, carried her six-month-old around. Gorgeous. And about the size of Son 2. I do hope he’s out of the 9 - 12 month clothing before he’s two. The Man was hungover, and felt better after many burgers and sausages.  Son 1 aged 4 y 10m ate one sausage and a piece of lettuce. Son 2 said “Cake!  Cake!” Father Jack-like. Son 1 sped in, along and up the Bouncy Castle a zillion times. Son 2 made it on his own.  Although when he got to the top of the climbing wall, he sat, waiting for me to climb through and up to help him.  I made it, several times, but was inelegant scrabbling down in my black linen frock. It took me back to the days when I slid down marquee roofs wearing fancy dress…

We came home, I dashed into town shopping, taking Son 2 with me, hoping he’d have a snooze in The Big Pram. Nope.  Then we were in The Carnival.  A friend gave us a lift, his partner had made the costumers. Marlin for Son 1, Dory for her son and Nemo for Son 2. We joined our partners in the parade, secondary schoolchildren also in costume, hauling a huge whale on a boat trailer.  We watched and waited while Vikings, Pirates, penguins, fairies and cyclists gathered.  The Town Band had dressed up like the Welsh Guards in Rourke’s Drift.  We set off. Son 2 refused to walk, but just stood, peering and everyone and everything.  We walked down a steep hill towards The Town.  I was worried our whale was going to break loose, ten-pin bowl its way through the carnival procession and leap over the buildings at the bottom and into the sea like Free Willy. Son 1 held hands with his 3 year old friend all the way round, and collected a fortune in their buckets for looking cute.    Ye Olde Sweetshoppe was open, so I bought 2 Childcatcher lollipops for the boys at the end. They all crunched up. Son 2 had green food colouring all round his mouth. High as kites and off their heads with tiredness and sugar, they zinged around. 

When we got home, I showed Son 2 his reflection in the hall mirror. “Who’s that?” I asked. “Son 2!” he said.  The little lamb can say his name. Sigh.

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.

1. Boating

2. Beaching

3. Swimming

The house is a mess, there are toys everywhere, piles of filing, old baby clothes that need selling or passing on, paperwork that needs doing, shelves that need sorting.  And the bindweed in the garden is coming to get us.  But it was a lovely day, the forecast for the rest of the week is murky,  so we rang some friends and went out in the boat.   Him, her and their two and a half year old.  The Man, me, Son 1 aged 3 y 10 m and Son 2 aged 10m. And bag after bag after bag. We had apicnicandabarbecueandatoybagandachangingbag andtheswimmingstuffandtheirbeachbagandthelifejackets. 

This beach is the one with the boat only access.  It was pretty busy.  We pitched the tent on sand too hot to walk on.  The Man got the barbie going.  It was so hot I was worried about Son 2, who even though he had a great sleep this morning was still tired and fractious. Son 1 went off with the 2 year old and his mum, and again, I had the nagging feeling that all his rages are justified - I just don’t get to be with him.  We had lunch, we finally got Son 2 off to sleep by me walking with him in my arms next to the sea. It sent him off in seconds.  I might get him a sea CD.

I went swimming.  I’d taken goggles, so tried a bit of crawl.  I couldn’t do much - not fit enough and no style, but I think I’ll keep trying. If I keep the sea swimming thing going.  There were little black fish in the water, scattering away as my pale legs strode through them.  It was cold, but clear blue. More waves than yesterday, but again, really really good.  I was in about half an hour, and when I came out, Son 1 had gone to the other end of the beach with the 2 year old and his father.  I wandered over.  There was a three-year-old height tunnel through some rocks and you could just see the bleached white light of the other side through the black rocks.  Son 1 pelted through.  I had to crawl, like big, clumsy Alice.  The other dad and the two year old followed.  A tiny beach on the other side, with boys in wetsuits swimming round the rocks.  All very tidal - the tide was high and I think at low tide it all just becomes rocks sticking out from the shoreline.  Son 1 just loved it. We were supposed to play Pirates and Mermaids but he just kept trying to rub wet sand into my arms and neck.  Which just goes to show.  Even if I did stop my dips I’d probably just flounce off with a “I’m not playing with you any more.”

We chugged back, Son 1 hollering for food - it was 5 o’clock, and for a child who can’t tell the time, he can tell the time perfectly.  We had coffee and fruit salad, and he mineswept all the picnic bags.  We chugged round a marker buoy rock to see a big fat seal sunbathing.  We got back at 1830, and agreed that we couldn’t have had a better weekend if we’d had paid hundreds and hundreds of pounds to go away somewhere.   

1.  Birthdays

2.  We are 3

3.  The dip

Birthday barbie with the Wednesday Friends on a beach we don’t usually go to.  We wanted to take The Boat, but it was too foggy, so we drove.  I didn’t put suncream on Son 1 aged 3 y 10m and Son 2 aged 10m. And then the fog seered off and their little baby faces have little red burn marks on.  The Man put up the tent.  Some more people arrived and pitched theirs nearby.  Someone from Emmerdale, according to the mother of the non-birthday friend - we were celebrating her birthday too ( and went out in a huge group in the evening for a BYO meal.)

I gave Son 2 his lunch, while Son 1 played with the birthday boy and their other friend, who’s a month younger than Son 1.  There were two other younger brothers kicking about.  The birthday boy is 4… which means the other two will soon clock over, and we will all be the mothers of 4 year olds.  It’s just galloping by.  It was wonderful watching the oldest three, who’ve been together since the days we could just leave them in their prams and natter.     They ran to the end of the beach 800 yards away.  They played pirates. They splashed and squealed and shouted in the sea. They trotted after each other.  They threw sand.  They played on an inflatable dolphin, ring and surfboard.  Son 1 was whizzed around in the water by a friend of the birthday family.  They dug, they played in the tent.  They trashed the tent.  They ate a birthday lunch.  The Man and the birthday dad snuck off for a drink.

I went swimming.  This beach lies between two mini-headlands, so it was sort of like swimming in a wide, shallow gorge out to sea.  Except I didn’t get that far.  Yet.  I’m getting in to it, and now I’ve been twice in a week I am of course training for a triathalon.  The water was flat, and freezing, then fine.  I do feel like I’m using playtime to go for my swims though.  Son 1 was playing in the water with his friends and the family friend for ages while I was feeding and looking after Son 2.  By the time I got in, he’d had enough and was digging with the others.  So should I have gone digging instead of swimming?  I’ll have plenty of time for taking a dip when I am a barking mad old lady, surely?  Was The Man worrying about how much time he spends playing with the children when he was having his pint I wonder?

1.  High tide

2.  Asleep

3.  Tea party

We are fantastically lucky to be less than a mile from the beach and this blog always helps me to remember that.  Today though was hard because it was scorching.  Son 2 aged 8m was at Richter scale 6 for 45 mins before we went out and my skull felt like a sheet metal worker had been trying to flatten it out from the inside.   Son 1 aged 3 and a half wanted to take the beach tent Nanna brought.  In an ideal world I would have put the tent up and looked after Son 2 inside.  But I couldn’t get the tent up, look after Son 2 - who, having used up every calorie in his system on his screaming fit, was starving, - and fend off 5 small boys who instantly started runnning off with the poles and pegs.   Son 1 though was in transports.  Up to the pockets of his shorts in the sea (sunsuit still in the toy bag),  playing very well with the others, digging, collecting, mixing… and then back to the old game of beating the approaching sea with seaweed to try to stop it coming in, and shrieking with laughter when it didn’t work.  Son 2 ate his lunch, ate sand, ate stones, ate some leftover sandwich one of the other children left in the pop-up tent I parked him in.  Our physio friend thinks he’s maybe a bit young to be diagnosed with Scoliosis.  The water was turquoise, and there were people swimming.  Next time I’ll bring a costume, I thought, remembering last summer when I was fat as a hippo and cooled off in the sea.  But it was so mercilessly hot that we didn’t last much past lunchtime.

Back home I had two boys asleep at once.    I had last night’s leftovers for lunch.   I looked at the washing, the cleaning, the toys and the mess.  And then joined Son 2 on the big double bed and  had nearly an hour’s sleep.

Nanna came round just after we all woke up.  The Man was barbecueing.  So all I had to do was feed Son 2 (Don’t Want That.  Want Hot Milk.  Only louder.)    Son 1 was beside himself with excitement.  The Man shook down the astroturf (Concreted yard.  Very child unfriendly.  Got it on the net.) and collected about two buckets full of sand that Son 1 has just slung around from his sand table.     Tea was late and chaotic.  Son 2 refused leftovers from breakfast and wriggled,  chewing bits of white bread and throwing them on the floor.  Son 1 helped himself to a spoonful of salad, ate a couple of bits of pepper, and then carefully dragged a large strip of lettuce through his tomato sauce and lowered it into his mouth from high above his upturned face.