1.   Shouting Out

2.   Listening Up

3.   Quietening Down

So Son 1 aged 4y 4m had permission to creep in bed with Mummy and Daddy if he woke in the night.  He woke in the night and screamed The Terrace down.  Son 2 aged 16m woke and went into air-raid siren mode.  It was 3am.  I am now finding it difficult to set a good example of restraint under stress.  But looking on the bright side, when you’ve already decided your strategy is Giving Up, at least you don’t have to waste time Teaching Them To Sleep Independently (The Greatest Gift A Parent Can Give.)  I went into bed with Son 2 while The Man  took Son 1. 

Getting to  Son 1 before the After School Club closed was a Good Thing.  One of those “If the road is clear, if the clock is right, if nothing happens, if I can park” journeys.  I got there with about 4 minutes to spare, and Son 1 shone a smile at me and ran to find his things.  On the way back we listened to Peter Pan.  It was dark, Son 1 was silent, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.  Back in street lit territory and I snatched a glance in the mirror.  Son 1 was sitting forward in his car seat, hands on his knees, leaning forward to listen, riveted.  We got to the house just as the Lost Boys shot Wendy. 

We were late back, and Son 2 was already upstairs with The Man.  We went up and obliterated The Man’s attempts to follow our routine.  Son 2 laughed, tottered, held out his arms, ran after Son 1, ran away from Son 1… The Man took Son 1 downstairs for tea.  Son 2 and I read books, and then I put him in the bath.  He’s such a poppet.  He’s just started shaking his head and nodding his head, only he does little, fast to-and-fro movements like he’s shaking water out of his ears.  I put him in the cot, did my singing and counting down and left him.  Not only did he lie down without trying to clamber out of the cot, but he also cried for less than 5 minutes after I’d gone.  A Good Thing.

1.   Noise

2.   Toys

3.   Boys

A quiet night from Son 2 aged 14m.  Fireworks this morning though.  The Man brought the boys up their snack - banana and apple pieces.  “I want grapes,” said Son 1 aged 4y 2m. “We haven’t got any grapes,” I said.  Son 1 grizzled a bit.  Son 2 grabbed his tub, peered in, tried throwing it on the floor… grabbed Son 1’s tub, flung the banana and apple on the floor, snatched his own again and succeeded in throwing the contents out… and then hurled his Doidy cup of milk across the chair and mirror.  It was a spectacular piece of tantruming, just because he didn’t have grapes in his tub.  He was dumped back in his cot and left to stew.  Well, boil would be a more accurate description.  Jaysus if he’s like this now what happens when he’s had time to practise?

Getting Son 1 to Nursery on time was a Good Thing.  We left late, the roads were awful, and I decided to try another route which was ok until we ended up in a long stationary queue.  I’m usually pretty patient in traffic, but we’d already been late twice and I really felt like Flinging My Tub. We got there on time though, and I even saw the teacher for the first time in a week.  I like the way Son 1 goes into Nursery now.  Eyes darting around to see what the others are doing, checking out all the different toys out in all the different places… his brain really switches instantly to What-Am-I-Playing-With, rather than I-Want-My-Mum.

Back home after The Office Son 2 reached and shrieked for me as soon as I walked in, and then, once he’d clamped himself to my shoulder started looking round for the next bit of action.  I did some books with him and got him in his bath.  Son 1 went in the shower, Son 2 sat at the plug end playing with the bubbles, the Winnie The Pooh squirters and some plastic jugs.  Son 1 was cleaning toys and polishing the shower screen.  They were both enchantingly engrossed in their own games.  For two minutes, till Son 1 “accidentally” poured soapy water in Son 2’s eyes.  Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.  It was hard settling him again, but we made it.  Six weeks since I stopped feeding him, and I think he’s now happy with milk from a cup and water from a glass.

1.  A natural blonde

2.  The welcome

3.  Making scents

Before leaving for The Office.  “Mummy I saw someone on telly with hair like yours.” “Blonde?” “No silver.”  “My hair’s blonde.”  “No it isn’t it’s silver.  With black bits at the bottom.”  “How nice of  you to say so.”  “It is nice.  I like silver hair with black bits at the bottom.   It’s very nice.”

After The Office, I make it back for the end of bathtime.   Both boys are in at once, and I tiptoe past the bathroom to get upstairs so I can get a feeding bra on for Son 2 aged 9m.  But they have heard footsteps.  When I come back down again, Son 1 aged 3 y and 9m is smiling “Mummy, mummy, mummy.”  Son 2 has allbut hauled himself up the side of the bath and is craning round, chortling in excitement.  They are naked, they have shining eyes, heavenly smiles and gleaming cheeks and they are wonderful.    

Son 2 is taking a long time to get down in the cot, so Son 1 has waited patiently for me to snuggle down with him.  “You smell so nice, Mummy,” he sighs.  This one has worried me before, but this time I don’t question it, I just wait.  “Son 2 smells nice.  And Daddy smells nice.  I love you Mummy and I want to be with you.” 

1. Arms and legs

2. Lift off

3. Calpol junkie

Woke to a room with no sound of Son 2 aged 9m and what felt like many arms and legs wrapped round me.  I was in the Big Bed, with Son 1 aged 3 and a half, who moved in while I was asleep.  Son 2 woke when I went to bed, and I gave him Ibuprofen - I’ve been wandering around the Mumsnet chat again and saw someone suggest it for teething.  I took him into bed with me and he went nuts.  Again, I just had to leave him in the cot.  It must be the milk. He’s exhausted,  wants to feed himself to sleep and I won’t let him.  He slept from about 0030 through till well past 7am…    Oh look at those hopes, bobbing around on the ceiling.   

Getting two boys out to nursery on my own on time (ish) is definitely a Good Thing.  It feels like a production line, though, and yet again I feel sorry for Son 2 who sits there watching his mother tear around in a bewildering blur.  Pack up lunch, snacks and medicine for Son 2. Milk feed, shower. Dress one, dress the other, dress me, hair, make up.  Breakfast for one. Breakfast for the other.   Leave every worktop covered in bottles, plates, knives, fruit peelers, cups and tubs.  Toys and bits of breakfast coating the kitchen floor.  Get briefcase, nursery bag, lunch bag, M and S bag with my lunch in it and put them in car.  Put boys in the car. Drive off.  Forgot Son 2’s milk.      

The production line again for tea and bathtime. I took up a cup of tea for me, milk for Son 1, a syringe of calpol for Son 2. Or I thought I did.  After I’d bathed Son 2, I sat down to give him a feed and noticed the syringe was empty.  Oh, I thought.  This must be this morning’s. We’ve obviously got two, and I’ve left the full one downstairs.  And then realised what the other explanation was.  “Where’s  Son 2’s calpol?”  A sly smile.  “In my tummy going down to my legs.”

1. Solo shower

2. More cranial osteopathy

3. Two against one 

The Man left on his business trip at 5am.  A drive of five hours each way, and he’s doing it in a day. We went to bed about 1130, Son 2 aged 7m was up at 2am, and there we both were at 5am with the day ahead of us.  (We are in fact still here, at this hour, with the day behind us.  Me doing this, The Man with a howling Son 2.)  I fed Son 2 in bed and he went back to sleep.  Which meant at 0620 I risked going downstairs for coffee.  Cleared up some washing, put the washing machine on. Got away with it.  Which meant I then risked a shower.  Got away with that.  Got away with cleaning teeth, drying hair and putting make up on.  Went back down to Son 2, who by then was lying on the bed laughing at me.  I had to wake Son 1 aged 3 and a half up at 0730.

I’d fixed a lunchtime appointment for Son 2 with the cranial osteopath, so I hared out of The Office to meet Wonder Nanny and the boys.  Son 2 slurped sloppily for about the first 15 minutes, and the CO did her hands-on-the-head bit.  Then he started getting seriously restless, fidget, cry, wriggle, fidget, cry, wriggle.  Then he fed a bit more, howled with tiredness and eventually passed out.  The CO was pleased.  She said there’d been a definite loosening.  She said he would be better this time because she’d felt some proper movement.  I’ve made another appointment.

I put the boys to bed on my own, and they went through their naughty boys act.  Son 2 is supposed to be feeding while Son 1 is in the bath.  Son 1 calls Son 2’s name.  I say “Please don’t do that, he’s feeding and you’re distracting him.”  Son 1 calls Son 2’s name.  “I just want to say night night.”  Son 2 stretches his neck out and cranes his head backwards to look round the door at the place, where, if Son 1 squidges up to the top of the bath, they can see each other.  Son 1 squidges up to the top of the bath and calls Son 2’s name.  Son 2 squeals and giggles his head off.  Son 1 giggles his head off.  They make me laugh, they laugh because they’ve made me laugh, and I wonder why I don’t get to tramp downstairs again till 8pm.