1.  Saying Goodbye

2.  Introductions

3.  Substitutions

I dropped my contact lens when I was getting up. “I’ll find it,” called Son 1 aged 4y 11m from bed, remembering how last time he got himself a Scooby Doo DVD for finding it. The Man found it, but didn’t admit it, giving Son 1 a clue instead. He came down the stairs, triumphant. ”I want a present now. From your secret present pile.” I gave him a Ben 10 pencil set I’d bought for his birthday.  The Man took him away to school and Son 2 aged 23m and I were left alone in the house.  Bereft.  For four and a half years I’ve worked flat out so they’re never apart from me for longer than two days. And now Son 1 will be gone five days at a time. Pang pang pang.  Son 2 didn’t care, he discarded the Tarzan DVD and put The Wiggles on.  And complained when I stopped it on the second time through so that we could go out.  

We went to the Beach By The Garden.  I took the Big Pram.  Before Son 2, I used to push the Big Pram everywhere. I covered miles and miles.  Son 2 fell asleep.  As I strode through coastal avenues I wondered whether I now had the chance to go for long walks on sunny Wednesdays for the next three years.  At the beach, each Wednesday Mum had only one boy. We last each had only one boy in December 2005.    It was very different.  Son 2 instantly expanded to fit the space alloted him: to the sea for water, climbing up me to balance on my shoulders, sitting with me, digging with me. At one point, as I tried again to loll back on the beach mat, drink black coffee from my flask and chat to the other mums, I considered saying: “Play by yourself, what do you think I am, your Nanny?”  He is of course designed to be irresistable.  I changed into my costume and swam in the sea. I turned round to look back and he had followed me down the sand, towing the beach mat, a Wednesday Mum completing the parade.  He had no intention of letting me go out swimming again, so we sat in the sea together, being slapped out by every seventh wave. “Again, again,” he chortled. 

We picked up Son 1, came back, they watched a bit of telly and I gave them an M and S ready meal spag bol for tea. Son 2 was weeping with misery over Son 1’s Ben 10 stationery kit. Son 1 loves it so much he won’t take anything  out of the box; Son 2 just wants to finger everything. Genuine, deep misery.  “Would you like one for your birthday?” “Yes peez.”  Good job I have the £3 Wall-E from TK MAxx, ready and raring to go.  I put Son 2 to bed. The Man and Son 1 wrapped his presents. Including Wall E.  The Man went out drinking. I came downstairs. On the phone was a message from the entertainer booked for the joint party a week on Saturday. ”Human Error. Mix Up.  Two shows booked for Saturday afternoon. Ours will have to change times. Sorry about short notice, he’s been leaving messaged on the wrong number. He’ll ring everyone. Not to worry.”  i left a message on his answerphone which said: “Sling Yer Hook, we’ll get someone else.”  Then I rang Wonder Nanny Crisis Management Services.  She suggested a person, and gave me a number. The Person can do the party. Hooray.

1.   Fruit

2.   Health Food

3.  Unexpectedly Vegetable

Gadzooks.  Son 2 aged 17m woke us with foghorn blasts at 0430.  “I’ll go,” said The Man.  “No I will,” I said.  “I didn’t see him last night and I miss him.”  I took half an hour getting him back to sleep.  He woke again at 0530 and I got into bed with him.  He wanted food.  I clung to a dopey wish that if I just stuffed him with food he would go back to sleep.  At 6am I took him down to the kitchen, where he ate everything he could see: a plum, a bagel, a banana, grapes.   Son 1 aged 4y 5m came down.  We were up. 

We had a 5th birthday party; one of Son 1’s Old Nursery friends, run by his Old Nursery Nurse.  We’d bought him a Power Ranger.  Son 1 had stood in front of the Ben 10 shelves, fingering each packet, clearly in love.   “We don’t know that Five Year Old likes Ben 10 do we?” I’d said.  “But all Little Boys like Power Rangers.”  Five Year Old opened the door.  He was wearing a Ben 10 outfit.  They played, we went outside and Son 2 had a great time playing with the diggers and building toys.  At lunch, Son 1 ignored the chocolate fingers, pizza, crisps, sandwiches and flapjacks in favour of some long breadsticks and cut up strawberries.  Never happened before.  Later, when I asked him why he hadn’t eaten much he said: “I wasn’t hungry.” I just need to get the hang of doing that and bingo I’m size 12.

I washed 3 cashmere jumpers this afternoon.  This is an Exceedingly Good Thing.  Two have been in the bottom of the linen basket for months.   The boys played making potions in the sand table while The Man watched.  This was also a Good Thing.  He is Obsessive Compulsive… and they were trashing everything.  Son 1 was painting the shed with a Big Paintbrush and water.  Son 2 was mixing plants, mud, stones and twigs with a watering can and then drinking it.  At tea we told Son 1 pudding was yoghurt, because of the huge slice of chocolate cake he’d eaten from his party bag.   “Wonder Nanny lets us have raisins after tea, they’re not too bad for us,” he said hopefully.  “Then she takes us upstairs for books and bath and bed.  And then Mummy comes home.”  He looked at me.  “And sometimes you don’t.”  Cannon ball shaped hole in middle of body.  At bedtime, he was on the bedroom floor looking at a dinosaur book with The Man.  I was lying in his bed, trying to get him to hurry up.  The Man told him how tired I was.   “Put your hand up if you like cucumber,” said Son 1.

1.  Champagne

2.  Crunch

3.  New Year Parade 

Nanna and Brother did an early babysitting session yesterday, so The Man and I went out.  Champagne cocktails in a Yoof Bar watching people half our age limbering up to celebrate.  Sets of girls, gangs of lads, dressed in… everything.  Strictly Ballroom costumes… Incredible Hulk bodypaint, birds, Sylvester… Son 1 aged 4y 3m will be delighted to know that he’ll still be able to walk around Town dressed as a pirate when he’s grown up.  Many of the boys had black eyes and split noses.  Bound to be rugby. We headed backfor 2230.  Son 1 will probably not want to know that 25 years after leaving home he may still be rushing to get back for the time he told his Mother.  We opened champagne, chatted, said goodbye, and settled down to crisps and Jools Holland.  At midnight we went to sit in the bay window to look at the fireworks across the river.  In next door’s window, the Christmas tree wobbled, and then our Neighbours appeared, also to watch the fireworks.  They waved at us and we waved at them.  Three police officers walked along the pavement outside, so I waved at them.  They waved back.  The Neighbours raised glasses with us as the fireworks went off.

Another slowish start.  The house is full of new toys, so Son 1 watched hours of telly, playing with his Ben 10 Omnitrix, while Son 2 aged 15m took the three sections of the vegetable rack for a walk round the kitchen and hall.  Son 1 joined in, one section on his head as a helmet.  Son 2 copied him and walked into the fridge.  Son 1 was doing his collie-in-a-china-shop thing, so we took them out.   As we went through The Town we did economics and social history.  “Why are the shops shut?”  “Because it’s a holiday.”  “Is Woolworths on holiday?”  “No, Woolworths has closed for good.”  “Why?”  “Because they spent too much money and no-one would give them any more.”  “So can we never go in it again?” “No.”  WAIL. “I like going in Woolworths. I wanted to buy a Ben 10 tee shirt.”  Then we passed the arty cinema. Son 1 took an events booklet from outside.  He opened it at a still from the Baader-Meinhof film, showing two men shooting at a car.  “Who are these people?”  ”Robbers who captured people a long time ago.”  “Did they kill them?”  “Oh no.  Everyone escaped and the robbers were caught and sent to prison.”  “Did all the robbers get caught?”  “Yes.”  “Did they keep their guns?”  “No, the police took those away.”  “What did they do with them?” “They melted them down and made them into tin openers.”  “What’s a tin opener?”  A child of the ring pull age.

In the still-perishing wind, we trailed over to the Other Side of Town.  Five or six children were marching, Von Trapp fashion, along the lines of dark paving criss-crossing The Square.  Son 1 watched longingly.  “Do you want me to ask if you can play with them?” As he considered, a shout went out from a group of adults on the other side, and the children ran off towards them, leaving The Square empty.  Son 1 went and stood on a dark line.   I stood behind him, and marched on the spot.  He giggled, and off we went, marching up and down the lines.  He started to run, I chased him.  We went back and forth. He ran off towards an unlet shopfront, and hugged a swinging street sign while he caught his breath.  Eyes dancing, cheeks glowing, a wide smile of little white teeth, he looked up at me and said “I love you.”

1.  Christmas Cuddles

2.  Sprint Finish

3.  Blinking In The Bath

This morning Son 2 aged 15m was clingy and wonderful.  Even in his high chair, he was leaning forward for a cuddle.  He is outstanding value at the moment.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m just lay in his Ben 10 pyjamas on our bed watching Children’s ITV and complaining every time I changed it to CBeebies because Son 2 was in the room.  I really shouldn’t bother, because Son 2 always toddles up and switches it off.  I wouldn’t, except the wretched child then switches it back on again.  Son 1 did, however, heave himself down three flights of stairs for a goodbye kiss and cuddle.  And then instantly disappeared upstairs again. 

Ran round myself today at The Office trying to catch up with yesterday’s day off, and get ahead for the holiday.  In early and out late.  However, being bright and positive, working Saturday helped hugely, and we got through great chunks of the To Do list.   The Man came into the Big Town for his Business, and got a few more things from the Christmas Shopping list.  I was supposed to get something for myself, but didn’t have time.  Pointy shoes in the sales, methinks.   I didn’t get back in time for Wonder Nanny, which means we haven’t given her her Christmas present.  Oh bother, said Winnie The Pooh.

The boys had been down to The Museum, and were both exhausted, and delirious with excitement at my arrival.  I put them in the bath and they were gorgeous playing together.  Son 2 was trying to pour water from a jug over Son 1.  But the water kept tipping out over his own face, and he was blinking and lipsmacking, Stan Laurel-like, confused.  Son 1 was beside himself laughing, Son 2 wanted to laugh too because Son 1 was borderline hysterical… but couldn’t because he was blinking the water out of his eyes and spitting it out of his mouth… which made Son 1 laugh even more.   Then Son 2 was soaping Son 1’s back, then deciding he wanted a cuddle.. then standing up to cuddle me over the side of the bath (very wet top indeed) and then they started fighting over sharks.  In bed Son 1 whispered “When is Santa coming?”  Granny and Granddad talked non-stop of their antics over dinner.

1.  Spelling Out

2.  Pigging Out

3.  Running Out

Son 1 tells us he Cannot Wait For Christmas several times a day.  There are presents under the tree from some friends.  They are driving Son 1 aged 4y 2m mad.  He can’t stop feeling, poking, peeling and shaking.  “Who are they for?”  He asked.  “We don’t know.  We’ll have to see what Santa says.”  Son 1 investigated further.  “This one’s for me.  Look.  It says ‘Son 1′ on the card.”  Another lurch further forward down the bye-bye-baby path.  The one where you realise he’ll now always recognise his name when he sees it written.  The veg man cameth, bringing vegetables, mince pies, cheese, yoghurt and bananas.  The turkey is coming tomorrow.  And the eggs.  I showered with both boys playing in the bath at my feet, plug in, bubble bath squirted.

After breakfast Son 2 aged 15m played with the zoo, making animal noises, pulling the fence to pieces, stuffing animals in the pens. I put him down for a sleep, lying on the double bed next to him.  Then I went upstairs with Son 1, who wanted to lie down and watch a video.  Babe.  He managed to watch the whole thing without clocking what upset Babe enough to run away.  And as the closing credits ran, I asked what he wanted for lunch.  “Anything,” he said. And then thought: “Sausage. And mash. And beans.”  Splendid.  One vegetarian in the house is quite enough.

Granny and Granddad have come for Christmas, staying in the hotel down the road.  Son 2 and I went shopping, while Son 1 and The Man went down to say hello.   We all met up in Boots.  In Marks, Son 1 chose the cake for after Christmas Dinner.  At home they all played upstairs while I made what seemed like industrial quantities of Shepherd’s Pie.  The boys gobbled it up.  Son 1 ate some kale - how I love my small triumphs.  At bedtime Son 1 was playing his Ben 10 Top Trumps again.  And showing no sign of speeding up so I could read to him.  “I want to go running.  Do you want to play Top Trumps or have your stories?”  “Top Trumps,” he said.  I kissed him and off I went.  I won’t do that again.  When I came back, he was asleep, so I had a shower to wake him up.  He stayed asleep.  And I woke Son 2.

1.   Santa Suits

2.  Top Trumps

3.  An Unusual Name

I had something to do for The Office today.  Then we took the boys to see The Town Band.  All dressed as Santas, starting out from our nearest pub, drumming, blowing whistles, singing carols.  Son 1 aged 4y 2 m was in a £2.99 child’s Santa suit with his tambourine, chasing the band, banging away.  He had a friend along as well.  He loved it.  He loved the response to his costume; he loved trying to keep up and catch up.  Son 2 aged 15m was in a Santa suit in the pram.  He had a go on a drum in the pub and loved it.  The Town Band stopped for refreshments at another local hostellry.  The boys were allowed to bang on the bass drum.   They took turns beautifully; 3 boys and two bass drum bangers.

Top Trumps is a spectator sport.  i remember it from my childhood.  My brothers had stacks of packs.  I think, for a reason I simply can’t remember now, that I had Windjammers.  Son 1 has Ben 10.  The MAn bought it for him on his way back from the last overseas Business Trip.  Son 1 loves his cards, and The Man has taught him how to play.  While I put Son 2 to bed, Son 1 and The Man commune.  Over activity  books, over comics, and now over Top Trumps.  Their bonding sessions rarely involve books - that’s what I do. Tonight I arrived early, an exhausted Son 2 having passed out almost as soon as I lay him down.  Son 1 didn’t want me.  He hadn’t finished. I watched him play and I loved it.  The Man and he only compete on “Intelligence.”  It is at the top of the card, and Son 1 can read out the number.  The The Man tells him who has got the highest number.  If it is Son 1, he gets the card.  If it is The Man, Son 1 gets the card.  I found a stray card on the floor.  Eye Guy. I don’t think he’s very intelligent… he seemed to have quite a high Freak score but that doesn’t count.  I handed over the card.

The Man and I were invited to a party, but had no babysitter.  I went anyway, figuring he never talks to me when we are out anyway.    I met some interesting people. I met someone who has just started at The Office who has an unusual first name.  Son 2 has an unusual first name.  “He will hate it as a child, but love it as an adult,” said my colleague.  I went for one drink and stayed for seven.

1.  The Odd One Out

2.  Baby Bonding

3.  Storm Force

Again, the scrum to get Son 1 aged 4y 2m to Nursery.  I’d meticulously left everything out last night.  We left home on time; we got there easily.  We had to park nearby, because I had to haul in the car seat for The MAn to do the pick up on his way back through.  As we walked along we saw more and more other mums dropping their children off.  There were party dresses, Thunderbirds outfits, Power Rangers, jeans, sweatshirts… and only one little boy in his uniform.  Oh Dear.  Son 1 was unbothered.  “Silly Mummy,” he said, clutching his Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer cuddly toy.  Back in the car I found his Captain Hook hat, and went back into the Nursery to give it to him.  He was wearing a Santa Hat and carrying a sack race bag.  He would have loved to spent the day at Nursery in his Captain Hook outfit.  Silly Mummy.

Wonder Nanny had a funeral, so I ran round at work and then pelted out again to get home in time.  Mr Wonder Nanny was parked opposite the house with the engine running when I arrived.  I gave him a cheery wave.  I got some work done while Son 2 aged 15m was asleep, but after that there was no point. It was very nice to have some time with him.  We played farms, we got out books he pointed at, we did some washing.  He hugged his highchair and cried; I got the hint and gave him a snack.  We giggled and tickled and cuddled.  Son 1 and The Man arrived home, Son 1 in a too-small pirate outfit borrowed from the Dressing Up Rack.  He flopped down on the floor grumpily, knackered after the Nursery Christmas Party.  The Man had bought some Ben 10 Top Trumps as a present for Son 1, and soon he was sitting on the floor looking at them while Son 2 was picking cards and waddling off with them.

The Office Christmas Party.  At an attraction we visit sometimes with the boys. There is the tourists’ route, sign-posted, huge roads, a long way round.  And there is another route.  Unsignposted, narrow, winding and much much quicker.  Every time we go I take the short cut, and every time I get lost.  In daylight.  Tonight there was a severe weather warning. 4cm of rain expected, gail force winds.  Driving alone, I took the short cut.  In driving rain, pitch black, winds that buffeted the car.  No visibility despite windscreen washers on doublespeed.  Great deep pools of water across the road.  Branches down… at times I couldn’t see the sides of the road let alone which side I was meant to be driving on.  I got lost.  I didn’t know which way round I was.  I got there in the end - everyone had finished their starters.  It was fun.  As I left at the end I could hear a train coming towards the building.  It was the sound of the storm-force wind on the roof.  On the way back I went to the 24 hour Tesco and bought washing powder, soap, bleach and nappies.

1.  Past

2.  Present

3.  Yet-To-Come

We are slowly but surely leaving babyhood behind.  I feel like I’m on the deck of a ship looking back at a land I won’t visit again.  Pang.  Walking is now the preferred mode of getting about.  There is still a lot of plonking down on the bottom, there is still some dropping down and crawling, there is still a lot of pushing child-size plastic chairs up and down the kitchen (being lapped by Son 1 aged 4y 2m doing the same thing.)  But 90% of the time Son 2 aged 14m is, without thinking,  choosing to walk.  It’s great.  Feet wide apart, eyes bright, and very often carrying something at the same time.  Being Son 2 there is of course a fair crack of pace already.

The new way to Son 1’s Nursery goes past the Old Nursery.  Son 1 always waves as we go by.  “Shall we take them a Christmas Card and a present?” I asked this morning.  So after I picked him up tonight we pulled over and I rang.  And we dropped in.  Four nursery nurses there to greet us, all of whom were there when Son 1 started aged < 6m.  They cooed over Son 1 in his uniform.  Haven’t-you-grown, they exclaimed.  How we miss Son 2.   Son 1 gripped my leg like a koala up a tree and buried his face in my coat.  He didn’t know any of the children, who were all under 3 years old.   It’s still loving, and it’s still lovely, but we were right to move him.

Today’s other Achievement was a pile of Christmas Shopping. Tower of Doom, various monsters, angler fish set and a Ben 10 Omnitrix for Son 1.  And a farm puzzle and a Winnie The Pooh bath set for Son 1.  Yes I know there’s a slight imbalance there.  What does everyone else do?  Son 2 is impossible.  He doesn’t play with any age-appropriate toys.  He likes Son 1’s toys.  The more chew-off-and-choke pieces, the better.  His Favourite Thing Ever is switching the telly off. Pressing the button to make the DVD drawer come out.  Playing with (adult) mobile phones.  Pressing the house phone buttons (so far no emergency services have been summoned, but it’s only a matter of time.)  Shape sorters and plastic talking toys simply won’t Shake His Pot.  He might have to have the Omnitrix.