1.  Pets

2.  Peace

3.  Perfection

Son 2 aged 21 month’s head bump looked pretty grim this morning, and I am glad I bothered to heave him into Casualty last night. He seemed fine, but tired.  We went to a Garden Centre.  Younger Sister bought the boys sunflower seed kits, and we have to pot the seedlings on, so we were looking for pots. The Garden Centre  has tropical fish, garden fish, gerbils, hamsters, chinchillas, parrots, canaries and rabbits.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m has decided that he wants a fish for his birthday. He is very excited by the idea. I have said it will help him get ready for having a dog, which he is not allowed till he is 6.  At the Garden Centre, we met the mother of a friend from Nursery.  Who has 5 dogs.  I quickly established that Nursery Friend has an older sister.     

The boys fell asleep in the car on the way back, the The Man and I drove to a beach and had coffees from a cafe. It really is such a rare treat to get them both asleep together in the daytime.  I put some litter in a bin; they woke up. We bought them chips for lunch. Unfortunately it wasn’t lunchtime, it was nearly 3pm when Nanna was coming round. We got back to see her, A Grand Old Age, sitting on the windowsill in the rain waiting for us.  Er… see http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/02/18/the-cuteness-of-piglets/  We made special fried rice for tea. I had a new Le Crueset serving dish for my birthday.  I put the rice in the dish on the centre of the table, place mats laid all round, serving spoons and plates in position.  Son 2 bruised down. “Tea,” he demanded. “Tea. Tea. Tea.” He climbed up on the chair, stood on it, reached over, served himself a great plateful and ate it with his fists.  He’d eaten half a plate before Son 1 came down.  I sat in the highchair and had mine.

Nanna babysat while The Man and I went down the road to the Hotel With The River View. Thank heaven for smokers, and improved outside facilities.  The Hotel WTRV now has a terrace. Plastic plants, and seagulls eating fag butts, but it was sunny, the water was flat and the longest day approaches.  We had a great time.

1.  Crocs

2.  Rocks

3.  Tuck

Son 2 aged 18m woke at 0630, Son 1 aged 4y 5m wasn’t far behind.  I went through my “Is Son 2 at the window, is he on the bed, is he on the chair, no! he’s in the cot” routine.  Son 2, crouching blearily, ran his hands over the rail - correcting me.  I usually run my hands up and down first looking for his little gripping fingers.  Son 1 cuddled him on the double bed.  Son 2 cuddled him back.  Mush.  We did “What’s That Noise, Mr Croc?” as one of our books.  Son 1 came in wearing the crocodile mask from the dressing up box.  Son 2 slid off the bed, clearly with an idea.  Downstairs. Into the lounge.  Jigging about, clutching  a train.  “Do you want to watch The Wiggles?” Mad nodding.  The Wiggles were doing the crocodile song when we stopped watching them yesterday.  We danced.  Son 2 is in love.  We have the Wiggles on Safari. “Crocodile Hunter - Big Steve Irwin.”   Son 1 wants to go to the Australia Zoo.  I wonder when I should tell them what happened to the Khaki Wiggle.

We drove down to the fantastic playground near the fantastic beach.  Two friends and their Three Year Old joined us.  Son 1 and Three Year Old ran onto big rocks.  Son 2 played in the rock pools.  I put him in a swimming costume wetsuit and his age 9m to 12m sunsuit top from last summer.   And Factor 50.  He picked up handfuls of mud and threw them into the pools.  Out of our sight, Son 1, who was wearing his school shoes,  stepped into a rock pool.  I put him in his sun suit, and found sun suit trousers for Three Year Old too. We built a huge sandcastle.  The Man and Three Year Old’s Dad flew kites.  Not enough wind.  (I have been with The Man for 22 years, and there is Never Enough Wind.) There were other kites on the beach, and dogs, and tractors, and horses.  It was a glorious day.  Bright sunshine and shimmering water.  There’s a tidal causeway and we crossed it to the Island. 

By the time we’d got back it was 2pm. Son 2 was yelling for his lunch in the pram, Son 1 needed carrying. Lunch was sausage baps from a kiosk, and assorted picnic stuff for Son 2 and me. Son 1 ate a bit but then pestered and whined for the playground.  We took them in.  Son 2 crawled up to slide down, crawled through tunnels, played with sand, climbed around a train and went on the swings.  Son 1 went on the aged 6 to 12 section, very pleased with himself.  An amazing afternoon.  We bribed them out with ice creams.  Back here at 5pm.  Son 1 has caught the sun on his face.  We were expecting them to sleep well, but Son 1 has already been up…

1.  Reception

2.  Remembrance

3.  Remedies

“Thankyou Mummy for waking me up when Daddy got back.”  In the middle of the night.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m, climbing into the bed. Being sarcastic.  No memory of my carrying him down two flights of stairs for Daddy cuddles.   The Man being back is a Good Thing.  Yesterday marked 22 years of us Being Together.  One day Son 2 aged 17m will feel special because his parents were together for well over 20 years before he was born….  Two pairs of hands, so things were easier, although kick off was still 0615.   Son 1 was excited, Son 2 was happy but clingy.  Now both parents were around, he wasn’t going to get fobbed off with the Second Best one.  

We went to a Garden with a friend and her 3 year old.  There were nature trails for the children with treasure hunts, and we needed seaweed from the beach, so we trailed down the long steep woodland.  Son 2 walked a bit, was carried a bit, picked up gravel a bit.  Son 1 and 3 year old friend found sticks and fought, and looked in ponds for fish and frogs, and trampled through bamboo clumps.  Son 1 fell over and smashed his nose and forehead on the path.  The sky was blue, the sun was warm, there were few other visitors.  The big pond at the bottom of the valley was filled with foot-long rainbow trout, clamouring underneath a viewing platform, suggesting many packed lunches have headed their way.  Last time I’d stood there I was miscarrying Son 1 and a half.  The memories were vivid. Who we were with.  Son 1 aged 2y 2m in wellies, saying “I’m stuck!” when his foot was jammed between two rocks.   Holding his sticks all the way down.  The bleak, hopeless, misery.  We didn’t get onto the beach that time, so the vivid flashback vanished as we walked up and down the steps. All three boys loved the seashore.  Son 1 and his friend charged around, climbed rocks and balanced on walls.  Son 2 scrunched on the shingle and headed, time and time again, for the sea.   

Back home again and we were all exhausted.  Son 1 and I watched Madagascar.  Son 2 played “beds,” laughing, giggling, cuddling Mummy, and finally pulled out the Thomas Wooden Railway.  Son 1 joined us and we built a track and Son 2 put electric trains on it and added carriages.  He pushed the engines up the bridge and watched intently as they rolled down the other side.  At tea time I made pizza while they both went out into our miniscule yard with The Man, who was trying to put an artificial grass playsurface down across the lethal concrete.  Son 1 rushed for his toy tool set,  hammmered walls and tried to fit pieces of astroturf together.  He was in raptures, helping Daddy, playing with his tools, knowing what the job was.   Son 2 tottered about and fell over a lot.  They were both asleep in minutes of us getting them in their beds.

1.  Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part One

2.  Reasons To Be Cheerful,  Part Two

3.  Reasons To Be Cheerful, Part Three

Both boys slept through the evening and the night.  Flags, fireworks, fiesta.  Another Fine Forecast. I suggested ferry, castle and beach.  The Man voted in favour.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m “I like that plan.”  We hurried to get ready.  Son 2 aged 17m was like a caged bear cub.  He was supposed to be in the kitchen with me, so he climbed up the stairs, came into the lounge and tipped my laptop off the table.  Loud bang.  Wah.  Ma-ma.  Ma-ma.  I took him up to the Big Bedroom where Son 1 was watching Citv.  I put my make up on.  “Mummy! Come and see what our baby’s done to the baby wipes!”  Our baby had pulled most of a full packet out, one by one. Climbing on chairs. Climbing on tables. Pulling out toys.  We strapped him in the buggy and fled.

The ferry was fine, Son 2 waved at another ferry, Son 1 came outside and we all stared back at The Town as we chugged away.  The harbour on the other side of The River was a bit dodgy, fishing nets, buoys, ropes and gear everywhere, unfenced, and Son 1 desperate to touch everything.  We bought pies to eat on the beach and he pestered and whined for them.  Till we got to the beach, when suddenly he wasn’t interested.  Over the rocks, into the rock pools.  Climbing, peering, prodding.  Son 2 toddled.  Off. Towards the sea, towards the rocks, away, anywhere.  I put him in his sunsuit and took  his shoes and socks off.  The shingly sand and broken shells on soft baby feet cramped his style.  For a few minutes.  He paddled and played in the water, laughing, splashing, picking up handfuls of tiny stones and letting them go.  Son 1 got in his sunsuit, and climbed and sat and fished with his net.  Another boy joined him, and they played together, refusing to come down when we called.  The beach was near-empty, the water was flat and turquoise,  the sun shone, the light was sharp.  Our coastline is always a joy, but across the deserted river on a still and clear day it was pretty much as it would have been centuries ago.   It would have been an amazing day in August. In February it was a Very Special Gift.   

Son 2 crashed out in the buggy, and we pushed him up to the Castle.  Son 1 was enchanted.  We went up narrow, spiralling stairs, we went down into chambers of cold stone.  At the bottom we saw the cannons in the gun rooms.  We peered through the gun slits: “Can you see an enemy ship?”  “Yes!” “Then Fire!” “Ker-boom!”    We went up to the top.  Son 1 was spooked by the life-size figures of soldiers in the armoury, but then fascinated: “Can I touch them, can I take their shoes off? Can I feel their hair?”  From the top of the turret, we heard Son 2’s wails.  We all went outside.   Son 2 trotted along on his reins, singing, his floppy old man combover hair blowing vertical. Son 1 crawled around under the cannons.  “Son 1! What are you doing?” “Mending the cannons!”  Ferry back, all of us psychotically tired.  I still cooked, pasta in cheese and five veg sauce.  They’ll be starving, I thought.  They’ll gobble it up.  They were.  They did.  We had them both asleep at 1930.  Fireworks. Flags. Fiesta.

1.  A Dark And Stormy Night 

2.  Sea Breeze 

3.  What A Beautiful Day

Oh What A Night.   Son 2 aged 17m woke up at about 2300m and The  Man went to him. I went upstairs… The Man was already in bed with Son 2.   I went to bed and Son 2 still fretted and called, and called and fretted.   Son 1 aged 4y 4m cried out.  I heard The Man snoring.  My left ear,  which has been cracking since last summer was agony if I lay on it.  After well over an hour of Son 2 bawling and miaowing. I went down.  The Man had Son 2 and Son 1 in bed with him.  I sent him and Son 1 upstairs, gave Son 2 Calpol and snugged down with him.  At 0130 I said if he didn’t go to sleep he was going back in his cot.  At 0200 he was asleep on the bed, and I went downstairs to sort my ear out and get a cup of tea. He started howling again.  I came back upstairs and put him in the cot.  I bent down next to him for a good 20 minutes, killing my ear, jaw and throat.  He finally passed out.  At last A Good Thing. I went downstairs and drank tea till 3am.  And then went to sleep in Son 1’s bed. 

  Son 1 slept till gone 9am. The first time he’s still been asleep in bed when Wonder Nanny arrived.   We rang his Best Friend.  Going to the Gardens by the Beach with their scooters.  We were under pressure, because Son 2 was so tired after his disturbed night.  We loaded up the car with The Big Pram (portable bed,) Son 1’s scooter, Son 1’s skates, knee and elbow pads and helmet, and Son 2’s pushalong car.  When we got there Best Friend had had such a huge tantrum that he wasn’t allowed in the Gardens, and had no telly all day.  We went on The Beach.  Son 2 loved it.  He was still screaming to stay awake when I wheeled him up and down to get him to sleep at 1330.  Amazing stamina.  Must get it from his father.   The split lip is still looking pretty grim.

A Northerly, so we were protected a little on The Beach, the sun shone, the air was clear, children ran around everywhere.  Next to us we had a half-term club, who had a parachute,  piles of buckets and spades, and a huge sand racing car they’d dug.  They wanted Son 2 to sit in it.  Until he started taking great handfuls out of the steering wheel and bonnet.   Our four welcomed a stream of small children who wandered in and out of their play zone…   Son 1 in the end folded.  He’s still got his temperature thing, where he suddenly starts to burn up, and he wanted to go home. I have a nasty feeling he’s just not drinking enough.  Being positive, we now have a new sticker chart.  He can have a star each time he has a cup of juice/water/milk.  And so we’ll soon find out if it’s a dehydration thing.

1.  Stringing Together

2.  Strung Up

3.  Strings Attached

The Man wanted to go to a beach to fly the kite which Brother and family gave Son 1 aged 4 for his birthday.  I wanted to go back to The Square and drink more English sparkling white to celebrate stopping feeding Son 2 aged 13m.  Excited at the idea that The Man had started sentences with “Let’s…” and “Shall we…?” I thought we’d better do his thing.  First we all went down to the Tesco Metro to do some shopping for the coming week, when he has another Business Trip.   We brought it all back to the house, and then off we went with The Big Pram and The Buggy, to the beach.  At the bottom of the hill, the Man remembered he hadn’t given Son 1 his penicillin.  They waited; I trotted back to the house.

Son 1 loved the kites, Son 2 loved the beach.  The first kite wasn’t a success.  The Man whined at me for not being a kite-flying expert.  Son 2 was crawling among the shingle and seaweed, where dog poo and broken glass lurked.  Various dogs the size of ponies were charging up and down the beach, their owners hundreds of yards away.  The Man was on his own with the kite, and terribly sorry I was too.  The old kite was better.  Son 1 just laughed hysterically at tangled strings, crash-landings, great gusts of wind, runaway aircraft and any attempt The Man made to tell him what to do.  It was priceless.  Son 2 watched it all with the superior yet faintly worried expression of a headmaster in the playground at lunchtime.

We pushed  them home via The Festival.  Packed again.  Son 1 saw a 4+ girl friend from the Old Nursery.  He was very excited.  “Hello Son 1,” she said, in a resigned voice.  Then, hearing grizzling from The Pram, she perked up: “Is that Son 2?”  I turned the pram round and he reached out to her. At home they watched a DVD and played drums and keyboards. I made bangers and mash and cheese and onion sauce and broccoli.  Son 2 wolfed it.  Son 1 ate it, every mouthful cajoled down by me.  He sang a song about putting plums in boxes.  And then the killer chorus: “Thank You God for the Harvest.”  The New Nursery again.  I had walked four miles. I’d made tea from scratch.  I was about to, again, deny Son 2 a breast feed. I left Darwin for next time.

1.  Back at the beach

2.  Back at the stove

3. Back and forth

The Old Faithful beach where we have spent most of the last three summers.   Rockpools to prod, rocks to climb, a Cafe selling peppermint tea, and a cliff face between the children and the road.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m had a wonderful time, tearing back and forward.  It took forever to give Son 2 aged 11m his lunch.  Son 1 was right down the other end of the beach… up on the promenade, hassling the Cafe Lady with his Friend Aged 3 and his Friend Aged 4, running in and out of the sea, shaking seaweed around, collecting shells and digging a very big hole indeed.  I took Son 2 to the sea to paddle.  He looked and laughed and laughed and looked.  He loves water.  We had to stop when his jaw started chattering and his lips went blue.

Back home I had two boys asleep at once.  Hooray.  I’ll have a bag of crisps and read the paper.  But I’ll just sort the washing out.  I’ll just put Son 2’s lentils on.  I’ll just do the veg for Son 1 and me to have tortilla for tea.  I’ll just wash some stuff from  the veg box.  I had a cup of tea, but Son 2 woke up after an hour, so I didn’t get my sit down.  But we did have a very nice meal together, the three of us - The Man is on a Business Trip.  Son 1 and I had corn on the cob, straight from the veg box.  Sweet as sugar.  Well, it is sugar, but you know what I mean.  I did a little round of it for Son 2, who liked chipmunking at the corn, but didn’t like gagging on the skin, and so threw it overboard.

The sheer relief when I got back downstairs after the two and a half hours it took to get them to bed is my Third Good Thing.  Jeepers, as Daphne says in Scooby Do.  I bathed them together, and they were lovely.  They splashed each other, poked each other, prodded with legs and arms and elbows, snatched toys back and forth, giggled, threw things out of the bath, threw things into the bath… enchanting.  “I will give myself ten bonus points if I get them to bed without yelling,” I thought, as I gave them my best Madonna-smile.   Nil points.  It was hell. It took about half an hour to get Son 2 drowsy…and then in walked Son 1.  “I’m scared.” He got in the big bed, but couldn’t stay still, or quiet.  So Son 2 thought it was morning.  And then when I gave up trying to get him to sleep, thinking that I’d just leave him so I could at least get one of them off, he ROOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRREDDDD.  It was awful.  He didn’t cry it out of course.  I went  back, several times, and held his little panting body, with his thumping heart and his hot head flopped on my chest.  He loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah.

1. Boys

2. The Tent

3. Against the law

Beach.  Didn’t get there till 11, by which time one friend has been and gone - behaviour of eldest “If you don’t stop doing that we’re going.”  Friend and friend of friend are there. Four boys between them, one of whom is a friend of Son 1’s from nursery.  Next to them is a nanny I know vaguely.  Two boys in her charge.  This nanny tells me Wonder Nanny is on her way with her M/W/F boy. Then another friend of friend arrives, 2 boys in tow, one a baby younger than Son 2 aged 10m.  So between us we have 11 boys, the eldest of which is 3.   

Son 1 aged 3 y 10m begged me to take the new beach tent.   Nanna’s has been left on The Boat for use by landing parties.  As we had so many people around… as Son 1 was off rock-pooling with an unsupervised posse of 5 little friends , as Son 2 was watered, fed, factored up and twinking at Wonder Nanny, I thought I would have a go at the tent.  Find out how it works with the children miles away so there could be no tent peg pinching or toddler antics.  I did it.  But I must have been spied from a long way off  because I turned away, turned back, and there were 6 small boys in it, doing up zips, undoing zips and laughing.  There was so much action and horseplay coming from within that Son 2 wanted to go in. He sat on me, smiling at the big boys, with one little friend kissing him, and the nursery friend telling me that he knows Son 2, and a queue forming to tickle him.  Eventually he got so tired we needed to go.  Which is when I found out that taking a tent down in the presence of 6 cackling little boys is just as hard as putting it up.

Back home there was nowhere to park.  “Mummy, you remember when I hurt my knee?”  Son 1 does not like parking a long way from the house.  He’s always exhausted when we return from our expeditions, and once he did indeed stumble on tired legs and cut his knee open on the concrete.  I told him I’d drive around till one became free.  Nothing happened.  I offered him the choice of going to bed while I drove off with Son 2, or coming with us and walking back.  To make sure he understood, as I carried him in I said “Now you know if you choose to stay in your bed that Mummy will go down the road with the car to find somewhere to park, and then push Son 2 back in the pram.  So you will be on your own in the house, but just for a little while.” “That’s against the law,” he yawned.  Yeah thanks.  And if you examine the Working Time Directive while you’re at it you’ll find that you’ve pushed Mummy into outlaw country there as well.   

1. After the break…

2.  Fishing

3.  The mermaid

No it hasn’t finished.  0515, howls from the cot.  Unwrap Son 2 aged 10m on changing mat.  Up to his waist in it.  Changed, cleaned, nice feed… laid him down on bed.  He stunk.  Changed him again.  Woke up at 7… he was hungry.  Rabbit toast, and weetabix, banana and live probiotic yoghurt all mixed up.  (I have been surfing for cures again.)  He ate the head off the rabbit and all the Grown Up Breakfast (AK.)  I think he might be on the mend.  The sludge hasn’t changed in composition or volume… but he seems better.  

So, confidence growing after yesterday,  we decided to go out in The Boat to the beach.     Very hard work even getting out of the house, and at one point before we’d anchored, I’d had, within 5 minutes,  The Man popping at me, Son 1 aged 3 y 9m having a strop over first the suncream, and then his sunsuit, and Son 2 screaming because he was exhausted and I’d left him on the bunk to sort Son 1 out.  I was Never Going Again.    But we all piled into the dinghy, Son 1 on beach, nappy bag, beach bag, food bag on beach.  Son 2 to The Man. Me on beach.  Dinghy pulled up.  Tent up.  And Son 1 and I wandering around the rock pools and shoreline with his fishing net. I caught two shrimps.  “Let’s eat them,” he said, repeatedly.  We took them back to show The Man and Son 2. “Daddy we’ve got two shrimps and we’re going to eat them.”   ”We can’t. Mummy doesn’t know what to do with them.” “We’ve got some crayfish tails in the fridge, would you like those instead?”  “Yes.”  Son 2 liked the shrimps.  He liked putting his fingers in the bucket to get tickled.

I wanted to swim in the sea.   But there was always a boy who wanted to fish, a dinghy to pull up away from the incoming tide, someone who needed the loo, snacks and drinks to hand out… Finally I got in.  It was freeeeeeeezing.  ”Mum-meee! Come back!” Son 1, at the water’s edge, yelling like the boy in Shane.  I wobbled back over all the stones and rocks.  “Do you want to come in?” “Yes.”  We got about four yards in, Son 1 up to his chest. “Mummy don’t forget I can’t swim.”  Good point.  We played where the waves broke.  I was a mermaid, he was a pirate.  He sat on my knee, the waves pushed us along, he splashed me and splashed me and we laughed and laughed.  It was Son 1’s first time up to his shoulders in the sea.  He went back to Daddy, I went swimming again.  Fantastic.  A total cure for anything.    

Back on the boat I changed Son 2.  Another “episode” in his nappy.  I changed Son 1.  I pulled down my swimming costume and Son 1 roared with laughter.  My chest and boobs were covered in sand, and there, draped between my 36Gs, was a bright green, feathery piece of seaweed.      

1. The beach

2. Pirates

3. 2 boys asleep

Got to the beach at about 1030 - one of those weirdy weather days when I packed up the pram cover, put the boys in their fleeces and added 2 extra blankets for the baby… and then drove through The Town wondering if the sun tan lotion was still in the toy bag.  We had a really good time.  In total: three mothers, three 3 year olds, one 2 year old, one 21 month old, one 8month old… and the partner with a broken collar bone.   The 3 year olds played together, the 2 year old sat in the pram because he’s not feeling well, the 21 month old played on his own, and Son 2 sat playing with the sand and toppling over, because the beach slopes and he’s not used to it.  He did really well, ate a good lunch, played a bit, snuggled with me and had a snooze.  I’m pleased, because it was only a couple of months ago that I used to carry him up and down the beach with him struggling and yelling as if he hated it.    It helps that I now travel with his Gaviscon.  I think my daft brain just said if he wasn’t being sick he wasn’t refluxing.

One set of friends went, and Son 1 aged 3 and a half played with his other friend for well over an hour, digging, stuffing a net back inside a plastic cement mixer, sitting on the rocks that formed today’s pirate ship and running up and down slopes.  At one point the two of them were just sitting on rocks together, smiling and eating ice creams, hair blowing in the wind - a lovely picture, if I hadn’t decided not to bring the camera because I had so much other stuff.  I got Son 2 off to sleep, and our friends lolled on the beach mat reading the local paper.  And we all had a cup of tea.

Back home I got Son 2 back to sleep…  then persuaded Son 1 to have a snooze with me.  I woke up at 10 to 4 with both of them still asleep.  Hot drink (ran out of tea bags) and a read of the paper.   No visitors, no phone calls.  A moment’s stillness in the whirlwind.  And then Son 2 woke up at 4, and we had to get Son 1 up to see if the cake shop was open (it wasn’t) and then it was time to make tea, and then The Man came home…