1.  Two Faces

2.  The Lone Ranger

3.  Comedy Tragedy

Best Friend’s birthday party today. We had a present and a card but no wrapping paper. So. The plan was to go into The Town with Granny and Grandad, where we would also buy a scarey mask for Son 1 aged 5y 1m, to change one of his Dressing Up outfits into a Ghost Pirate for Halloween.  Before G and G arrived, the children were Very Hard Work. They did well in playing on their own in the lounge for about an hour while I tidied and did washing and hoovered. But then Son 2 got tired, they started bickering, Son 2 started squealing and needing me… Son 1 went nuts because I was trying to be sympathetic to Son 2… and I Could Have Done Better.  G and G arrived and they were still hard work. We pushed them both into the Town, Son 2 in the Big Pram in the hope he’d sleep, Son 1 in the buggy because he refused to walk.  It was Perfect. 

I got Son 1 a Marks mask (say that fast a few times each day and keep your jawline trim.)  We pushed them down to The Square for coffee to make Son 2 fall asleep.  Son 1 was still wrecked with tiredness, and alternated between being a cuddly on-the-knee want-my-mummy’s boy and a sulky nightmare. He had a hot chocolate and an apple muffin.  Son 2 woke up. I pushed him round the Square and The Museum, remembering the scores of times we did it when I was on maternity leave, hoping he’d fall asleep. He never did. ”Do you want to go back to sleep, or go back to the cafe?” I asked. “Hot choc choc,” he said.  Son 1 fed him bits of apple muffin, and then they both sipped through straws to share Son 1’s chocolate.   They looked adorable, and Granny and Grandad both took pics.  We went back. I stopped in the fishmonger’s to get some sea bass for tea with Nanna tomorrow.  I caught up Granny and Son 1 further on. “Son 1, where’s your mask?”  He hyperventilated. “Sorry Mummy.”  I power walked the 3/4 of a mile back to the cafe, where it was still in the booth we sat in. And then, worried about Son 2, I walked home with it as fast as I could.

Grandad decided he was going to rest, but Granny came to the party with us. Son 1 wore Captain Hook and carried his new mask.  Son 2 wore the same bat costume he had last year when he was 13m: http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/10/26/four-candles/ Aged 1 - 2. It’s supposed to last. Son 1 and Best Friend ran round together the whole time.  I was up, down, inside, outside, following Son 2.  A mother was there I hadn’t seen for while. She had an appalling time last year, (see http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/04/12/the-lesson/) and I still ache in sympathy for her.  We chatted; she’s brilliant. I hope.   After the cake and candles, Son 1, Best Friend and Son 2 picked blackberries at the bottom of the playground. ”Pop” went a balloon.  Back home we said goodbye to Granny and Grandad who are leaving early in the morning.  Son 2 accidentally punched me in the eye so hard he knocked my contact lens out. “Bring me a mirror!” I begged Son 1, who brought me my Chanel compact, broke it into bits, dropped the powder on the floor and then rubbed it all into the lino.  At least I found the contact lens.

1.  Who Disturbs My Slumber?

2.  The Little Mermaid

3.  Chicken Run

Tired, tired, tired.  Son 1 aged 5 was trying to get into the Big Bed before midnight last night, so I took him back to his bed, got back in with him, got him back to sleep, woke up in the wee hours and headed off to the Double Bed to try and sleep. “Mummmeee!” called Son 1.  I put him back in his bed, explained I had to sleep alone or I’d be grumpy, and went off again. Not a creature was stirring and everything was still dark when Son 2 aged  2y 1m hollered for me. The Man went in. Son 2 had hysterics in disappointment. “NO! MUMMMEEEE!” The Man brought him in to me. He snugged. Son 1 padded in after. The line-up was Son 2, me, Son 1, The Man. Son 2 span round like a drill bit.  Son 1’s arms snaked out,  insistent fingers seeking my eyebrows. The Man gave up and went back to The Big Bed. In the end, I asked Son 1 to go back to his own bed. And begged Son 2 to go to sleep.  We were wakened well after 9am by the phone. Nanna ringing to find out today’s plans.  The Man and Son 1 were upstairs in the Big Bed watching Sponge Bob.  Son 1 wanted to make a spoon pirate.  “After swimming,” I said. He ignored me, and made one while he was eating his pancake.

We went to the Town Pool. Nanna sat at the side and watched. Teenaged Niece is 18 and a champion swimmer, with a Sharon Davies figure, natural blonde hair, huge baby-blue eyes,  Californian-style braces on gleaming white teeth and an unstoppable laugh.  She was dazzling.   Into the pool, laughing and splashing, came Best Friend and Best Friend’s Little Brother.  Wednesday Mum followed behind. She took one look at Teenaged Niece and said “What did you bring her for?” “Because now I know no-one will be looking at my skanky swimsuit,” I said.  Son 1 and Best Friend were overjoyed to see each other, inseparable, and high with happiness.  Son 1 hasn’t seen Best Friend since his birthday.  The fact that they’re in different schools is a secret source of regret. But they live 200 yards from the Outstanding Village School with the 16-place reception class. And we don’t.   I spent all the time with Son 2… Teenaged Niece played with the older boys, diving in, popping up and swimming under, sleek as a seal. Son 2 is also a natural swimmer, doing two widths - each time because he wanted to go somewhere else.  Plenty of jumping, playing in the bubble baths and splashing in the warm water coming out of the jets.

Back home Nanna, Teenaged Niece and the boys went upstairs to watch telly.  I made cups of tea and started on lunch. After a coffee and a little read of the paper. I went upstairs and announced I was going to sit down for five minutes. Son 2 dropped his frog bottle on the carpet and, because he’d loosened the top, it burst open, spilling what seemed like several gallons of pineapple juice. Oh I wish I’d taken it better. I made dinner, roast chicken, roast potatoes, sweetcorn, spinach, carrots and leeks. The Man came in and made onion gravy. Son 1 came down with Teenaged Niece and made another spoon pirate.  By the time the meal was ready, Son 2 could hardly stand. He managed a bit of food, but just wanted to flop on me.  Son 1 did better. After TN and Nanna had gone we rubbed our latest anti-lice goo - which we think is neat petrol - into the boys’ hair and combed through. When they were asleep  The Man and I put the petrol on our heads and checked each other.  Love is…

1.  Rhythm

2.  Blues

3.  Jeopardy

Wednesday is Friends’ Day.  So why oh why did I have to do painting, colouring and a long, loud session on the drum kit and ELC keyboard before anyone came round?  She is saintly, and will not  mind me crying Foul! Is That Not Why I Have Wonder Nanny?  Ahem. Excuse me.  One Wednesday  Mother had a hospital appointment for 3 year old’s adenoids and was Too Stressed To Come Out.  The other Wednesday Mother wanted to come here, which was fine. I am being unfair on Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2 aged 23m.  Son 1 was up for painting. Son 2 really just likes stirring the dirty water from an upturned ramekin and splatting it on the walls with a paintbrush.  And the jamming session was great. Son 1 on keyboards “You’re too noisy! I can’t hear when I sing!” and Son 2, “Bang-It-Hard-Enough-And-The-Crayons-I’ve-Posted-In-All-The-Drums-Will-Rattle.”  Mrs Gallagher would have had this.

Best Friend and Little Brother at last came round.   Best Friend and Son 1 locked into a horrible axis and wouldn’t play with Little Brother. Little Brother, tired, rejected/dejected, was uninterested in Son 2, no matter how we tried.   Son 2 trailed after all three: “I’m 4! I’m 4! Honest!”  Son 1 and BF were in an elaborate game of pirates which involved caves, maps and treasure. LB, who must never be under-rated, was very often in possession of the treasure chest. And I was on his side.  Son 2 wore Son 1’s Captain Hook outfit, and was incredibly pleased with himself. Pa-ang.   Son 1 hasn’t worn his Captain Hook outfit since BF’s mother found him one at a car boot sale.        

The MAn came home with a Business Colleague and we all went crabbing. The tide was coming in, there was seaweed everywhere so we couldn’t see anything, all four boys stripped off.  I made Son 2 put his reins back on. “In years to come, it will cost him a great deal to walk around naked with a beautiful  blonde on the end of his reins,” I told Wednesday Mum.   Son 1 found something which i thought was a weathered old battery case with stuff growing round it. ”It’s a sea urchin,” said Wednesday Mum. “That’s its mouth.”  She did a degree in Marine Biology ahead of the PhD in Chemical  Engineering so I kinda believe her.  We still caught crabs. Big ‘Uns and Littl’Uns. Son 1 caught a whopper. Son 1 caught a titch - just by trawling his shrimp net he found the teeniest sideways-mover. We put them all in the same big bucket, worried they’d eat each other. But they all huddled under the Whopper. ”We’re running out of concrete,” observed BF.  Four-year-old speak for The Tide Is Racing In. We were also running out of bacon.  But we defeated our own record.  Twelve crabs and a sea urchin. We tipped the bucket out on the river wall so we could watch the crabs scuttle back to the water. Three huge seagulls appeared instantly.  We then had to prise the bloody crabs out of the gaps in the steps to get them safely back in the river.    It was supposed to be a race, but it turned into an airlift.

1.  Commes Des Yorkshiremen

2.  Comme Il Ne Faut Pas

3.  Commes Des Garcons

Before the school holidays, I used to get both children up, dressed, breakfasted, washed and teeth-cleaned, get myself showered, hair done, made up, do my packed lunch, a load of washing, washing up and hoovering, mostly singled-handed, before scooping up Son 1 now aged 4y 10m and his assorted bags, walking half a mile to the car and getting to his Nursery 30 mins away at the madly early time they insisted day began.   Now I’m leaving it all to Wonder Nanny, The Man is home, and I still can’t make it to The Office without a 1950s’ Look At That Clock Why Can’t It Be Wrong mental ringtone haunting me all the way.  So my first Good Thing is the school hols.   Because I have no idea how I’m going to do it all five days a week and lots, lots earlier.

I’d taken the afternoon off, so the whole morning had the same panicky, desperate pace.  I talked faster in meetings as if that would make them end quicker.  It didn’t. It just made my voice get a bit higher, and I got the where-could-she-have-inhaled-helium look from my colleagues.  “I’m really sorry,” I said. “But I have a child’s birthday party and I need to go.”   Oh-good-nothing-important said their faces.  Out late, I rang Wonder Nanny from the car park. ”I’ll see you there,” she said.

It was Son 1’s Best Friend’s brother’s party.  I was first to arrive. The Working Mum So Busy She Forgot To Take Her Children To The Birthday Party.  Best Friend and brother looked unimpressed and continued doing lazy forward rolls on their sofa. Wednesday Mum had prepared a Blytonesque spread, cleaned the house from top-to-bottom and laid on party games. I made her a cup of tea. Other Mums arrived. I made them tea. At last Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and Son 2 aged 23m turned up.    We partied. Son 1 and Best Friend match-fixed the pass the parcel. I was so proud.  Wednesday Mum stopped the music dutifully and fairly so that 10+ small children each got a sweetie as the layers were removed. It took a long time, she got bored, there were still layers left so she gave the CD remote to Best Friend.  When the music stopped, Son 1 had the parcel. He got the chew bar. The music started. The ring of cross-legged children passed the parcel. The music stopped. Son 1 had the parcel.  He got the prize, a packet of jelly sweets. I wish I could say he shared it with Best Friend. It’s Because I Work.

1.  Pushing Boundaries

2.  Pushing In

3.  Pushy Mother

A Very Grim Weather Forecast.  Wet. Really, Really, Wet. But clearing up Later On.  We decided our planned Bird Park trip could go ahead, but we would need to leave early. The Man helped us get out.  0930, in our macs just to go from the house to the car, double parked outside.  The house phone rang. The Wednesday Mum.  She forgot. We’re picking up another family and splitting them between us.  OK. We drove round and round looking for the right road.  And found a Post Lady to help. We found the right house.  Wednesday Mum gave us Best Friend to take, so she could take the Mother and two daughters in the other family.  Off we went.   Pouring with rain. The road we needed closed with miles and miles of diversions. And Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Best Friend giggling away as they yelled “Poo Poo Pants!”  and “Wee Wee Head!”  at each other. Son 2 aged 22m sat in his seat yelling “Bart!” (= fart) and laughing his head off.  I will remember not to be disappointed if this is as good as conversation in our 75% male household gets from now on. 

The Bird Park. Soft Play, on a hideously wet day in the summer holidays.  Every table full.  Wet macs, jackets and kagoules over the back of every chair.  Son 1 and Best Friend ran off, I plopped Son 2 in the baby area and found a table. I put our macs and bags on it, went to play with Son 1 and still had to fend off an older woman who snuck on the one seat I hadn’t baggsed.   The others took a while coming.  Son 1 and I had a good play. He stood on top of the jets, all his fine, long, blond hair blown vertically upwards. With his tee shirt full of air and a great delighted smile on his face.  We played with the balls, we climbed, we went down slides.  Son 1 was a pain. He spent the morning playing  a Fierce Game.  Growling and roaring at everyone. Eventually he fell out with Best Friend.  He roared, Best Friend lashed out. He cried.  So all three of us went to play on the Big Uns equipment together.  

And then we all went outside.  In our macs, the rain drumming down, no-one else out. Son 1 dropped his Knobbly Bobbly ice lolly.  I gave him 85p and told him to go back in and buy another one. He managed.  Amazing what motivation can do.  We saw owls, and otters. Son 2 just said “Fish.”  “Fish.” “Fish,” as we wound our way down to the farm area. He studied the fish - great fat koi - for as long as we’d let him.  We looked at the rabbits and the guinea pigs. Outside we fed rabbits and sheep with goat food. Son 1 was letting big sheep lap the pellets off his hands; Son 2 was still just a bit scared. There was a Daddy, Mummy and Baby donkey. Son 1 and I wondered if The Man would let us have a baby donkey.  Son 2 hung on the wire sides of the hen houses.  At penguin feeding time the other Wednesday MOther took her two boys back in. Not us. Son 1 sat on the side of the penguin pool trying to get picked to feed them. Son 2 cried with tiredness and pressed his face in to mine.  When it came to choosing the children, Son 1 didn’t get a look in. “Just get down,” I said, giving him a nudge over. Inside the penguin pen, he turned to me. “Did they say it’s all right?”  ”Yes it’s all right,” I said. “Did they say so?”  How well that child knows me. The keeper passed him and told him to come along, olonking a bucket of fish down beside him.  Son 1 and his new friends hurled them into the pool.   Next to Son 2 and me, two children behind the wall stood with their hands up.  We went round the pool to watch Son 1.  “Pin Gin” said Son 2.

1.  Terrible Teeth

2.  Terrible Claws

3.  Turned Out Toes

Moving The Cot into Son 1 aged 4y 9m’s room was kind of successful.  Son 2 aged 21m slept through and slept till 0730. Son 1 however was up in the Big Bed by about 0030. 

We went to the Rockpool Beach with the full set of Wednesday Friends. Son 1 refused his sunsuit and ran off with his Best Friend. They headed off, hundreds of yards down the beach and out over the rocks.  Best Friend’s Little Brother was playing with a Big Truck, Three Year Old Friend was playing in the sand. Son 2 aged 21m trogged down to the water’s edge.  He trogged back again and tugged at the food bag. “Food. Food.”  Four periwinkles rolled down the beach mat next to him.  He settled for  a drink “Joos. Joos” and toddled off to the rock pools again.  One Wednesday Mother went for a sea swim.  I put my costume on.  There was a howl and a scream from Best Friend.  We stood and peered.  His Mother went over. “There’s blood everywhere,” shouted Son 1.  Best Friend had fallen and bitten through his bottom lip.  Blood dripped all over his bare chest and tummy. “It’s like Dracula,” said Son 1.  HIs  Mother cleaned him up.  The imprints of his two big front teeth were clear in his fat bottom lip.

We ate lunch, the children rejecting The Man’s chicken sandwiches in favour of the smartie and jelly tot cakes I bought for tea on Monday.  A Book Club Mum arrived with her little girl. I heaved Son 1 and Son 2 over to the loo, and then took them down to the low tide-line to look for fish and crabs.  Our tally was two dead crabs, and one still alive which had only three legs. I couldn’t cope with that one and had to put it back in the sea. Son 2 carried his dead crab around proudly. “Bab. Bab.” He held out the bucket “Fish.”  We couldn’t find any fish. Best Friend, Little Brother and Mother left.  I cajoled the children back up the beach, although Son 1 still wanted to play. At the beach mat, Son 2 lay down on his back and looked at me. Son 1 curled up on the sand.  I put up the beach tent for them to play in and went for a quick swim in the sea.  Icy but fab. The water was turquoise, long seaweed fingers stroked at me as I swam out and back. I didn’t spend long in, and after I came back the others left. I put the boys in the car, drove home and they were both deeply asleep. The Man joined us for an ice cream at the Headland. The  boys woke up. Just as well I’d got them ice cream.  I cut the underside of my tongue on a sharp bit on my cone.  There were bloody red streaks all over my Whirly Whippy as I ate it. Didn’t seem very veggie.

We got them both in bed and asleep at 7.30pm. I went out for a run. I’ve changed my route - I now run through The Town and over towards the Rockpool Beach, although I can’t quite get there in the 15 min out and back I’m currently trying. I’ve bought new trainers - Nikes, after I checked out a few cheaper ones.  In the shop, the assistant offered me a Nike Chip to put in my shoe.  It will then register with my Ipod, and play fast music when I run fast and slow music when i run slow.  I said no. Too humiliating if it never chooses fast music for me.

1.  Fish Food

2.  Swimming Like Fish

3.  Schools

Son 1 aged 4y 9m can never pass a leaflet stand without helping himself.  He has been studying a favourite for weeks; a flyer for a holiday park near The Happening Town with a mega swimming pool. The forecast today was ropey, so I decided we’d go. We stopped off at Wonder Nanny’s new house to pick up her bikini.  The boys have been, I haven’t.  “Fish,” said Son 2 aged 21m. “Darling we’re not going in the garden, we’re just having a quick look round and then we’re going swimming,” I said. “Fish,” said Son 2. “Not today, Son 2,” said Wonder Nanny. “I’m just showing Mummy the house.”  Son 2 picked up a tub of fish food and headed for the back door.  “Fish.” We went out to look at the fishpond.  There are about 10 small goldfish, and one larger lighter one.  The boys sprinkled fish food.  “Where’s the Mighty One?” said Son 1. “I can’t see it,” said Wonder Nanny. “Fiance must have fed the fish, they’re not hungry, are they?” “That leaf on the bottom at the back looks like a dead frog,” I said. ”Where’s the big one?” said Son 1. “I don’t know,” said Wonder Nanny. “I suppose a cat could have got it.” Pause. “You know that does look like a bit like a frog.” I peered. “Ah.  I think that might be the remnants of the Mighty One.”  No wonder they weren’t hungry.  

I’ve taken this week off thinking it wouldn’t too busy because most schools haven’t broken up.  But the Holiday Park Swimming Pool was elbow-bumpingly busy. The boys loved it - there was a great baby/toddler area and Son 2 loved the little slide… there were bubbles.. there were three huge slides.  Son 1 was only allowed on one, with me, and we had to queue for ages each of the three times we went down.  A gent in front of us had his late father’s face and birth and death dates tattoo-ed on his shoulder blade. The pool was well worth it, but the rest of it was like being whizzed back in time. Vauxhall Holiday Park, Great Yarmouth, 1973. Shamba Holiday Camp, Dorset, even earlier. If Sugar Baby Love had belted out of the speakers I would have suspected a head injury.   I felt strangely comfortable.  “Was that great, or what?” said Son 1, swinging his noodle as we left.     

Best Friend came round when we got back, armed with a sword, a handgun and a pistol. “Sorry,” said his mother. He had his taster session at his new school this afternoon. Pang.  Best Friend lives on the doorstep of the Tiny Outstanding Village School I had my eye on for Son 1.  I didn’t apply in the end, thinking we wouldn’t have a chance of getting him in.  So Son 1’s staying on for Reception at his current place 12 miles away.  It’s a fantastic place.  But they’re so good together. As soon as Best Friend came round, they piled into the dressing up box and emerged as pirates.  They played, utterly absorbed, with Son 1’s huge pirate toy collection till tea, then piled down, giggling, snorting, making farting noises, calling each other Poo Poo Head and having sword fights with the dipping vegetables.  Best Friend ate great piles, Son 1 picked like a supermodel. After tea they went out in the garden with bows and arrows. After a great many threats they got the hang of not firing at Son 2.

1.  Sleep Solutions

2.  Devolution

3.  Evolution

Son 2 aged 20m slept in forever. Something to do with getting to bed at 1030 last night after our Journey.  Over these last five days we have really cracked the early waking. It’s incredibly simple. You just don’t put them to bed till 11pm.  And they lie in.  I’m not entirely sure how that’ll roll along when I’m back in The Office, but at least I know the principle is sound. Son 1 aged 4y 8m was getting a bit frisky when we vetoed all his ideas for entertainment in case he waked Son 2… but eventually settled for a screening of Free Willy (£3 from Tesco, got it last night when we stopped off for milk.)  “Thank you Mummy for buying that lovely story for me,” he said, after they sprung Willy and the credits rolled.

We went to the Rockpool Beach.  Heaven.  Hot hot hot. The tide coming in all the time, so we had to keep packing up camp and creeping to a strip about 2 yards wide finally left at high tide. Son 1 and Best Friend at one point cleared everything up for me and carried it over. Stunned, I grovelled, gratefully.  Son 2 toddled off with them to paddle and pull seaweed and peer in rockpools. We had lunch. I put a roasting, fainting Son 2 in the Big Pram and wheeled him along some shady pavements, and he went to sleep. Son 1 and Best Friend were waiting at the top of the cliff. “We were worried mad about you Mummy, we couldn’t see you anywhere,” said Son 1. What he meant was he’d eaten his lunch and I’d told him he could have an ice cream afterwards.  So he and his posse of friends were waiting. He chose bubble gum flavoured ice cream, which until today I had no idea existed. 

And then I got changed and went Swimming In The Sea. Best Friend and I played a game getting in. “You’re winning, because you’re in up to your tummy and I haven’t got my bottom in yet.” “Oh Lordy, lummy, lummy, Lordy… look at you up to your chest and I haven’t got my tummy in.” Then he was chin high and I realised he would drown if I swam off, but another Wednesday Mum had spotted the problem and stayed to keep guard.  Swimming In The Sea is fab.  If you never have or simply don’t… then just Get In There.  There is something we-all-flippered-our-way-out-of-the-swamp about it.  I swam out for about 100m in an emerald, pond-flat sea and nothing mattered and everything made sense.  I swam back and the reflections of the buildings on the cliff top were almost still in the water.   Son 1 sat, as he always does, at the water’s edge, watching anxiously.  I’ll just do another 20 minutes, I thought, till I saw Son 2 up with a Wednesday Mum, staring out to sea.

1. Abstract

2. Beachscapes

3. Still Life

Charging out of the house to The Rockpool Beach to see the Wednesday Friends.  Well, that was the idea.  Son 1 aged 4y 7m was watching telly, I was making a picnic and Son 2 aged 19m was in his highchair eating his pancake.  He started to cry. And cling. And flop.  ”Son 2, would you like to go to bed?”  He nodded vigorously.   Son 2 never wants to sleep when I am around.  We lay down on the bed together.  Little arms round my neck.  A face wedged against my cheek. Fists in my hair. Adorable. When he was finally asleep, I went back downstairs.  Son 1, who at 7am had polished off half a can of rice pudding, was in the kitchen demanding a pancake.  I warmed up Son 2’s and gave that to him with a maple syrup dip.  It vanished.  “Can I paint my trains?”  Thomas Wooden Railway paint-your-own carriages.  A TK Maxx find.  We got out the trains and the red, yellow and blue paint.  He mixed red and blue to make purple. ”It works!”  And then blue and yellow for green, and red and yellow for orange.  “Does it always make green when you  mix blue and yellow?”  “Yes.”  “Why?”  “It’s to do with the range of frequencies of reflected light in the visible part of the spectrum darling.” “What, Mummy?” ”I don’t know, it just does.”  He mixed and stared, fascinated and delighted as his new colours emerged.   ”It’s very clever.”  He’s right. It is.  And the purple, green and orange Wooden Trains look great too.

Son 1’s new wetsuit fits, and he likes it. Key moment in life.  The Day He Wore A Wetsuit To The Beach for the first time.  It was much colder than I expected, so I put Son 2 in his swimming costume wetsuit and a sunsuit.  Son 1 ran off with Best Friend, his brother and the Three Year Old Friend.  Son 2 clung but got progressively more bold and wandered off to play in rockpools.  I followed him, knowing Son 1 would soon materialise.  The pack of boys leapt from rock to rock.  The Lady From The Beach Cafe came down with her camera and some photos. Unexpectedly, she is also an artist, and the photos were pictures of her work. Beach scenes with little figures in them.  Could she take pictures of the children to use when she does her beach scenes?  She finds it hard these days asking people.  We have known the Lady From the Beach Cafe for nearly four years. She works seven days a week from Spring till Autumn.  We knew she has Adventures in winter, but we didn’t know she was a trained and talented artist.  We said yes.  “I can’t do any painting till October.  And I’ll probably make it a sunny day.  And put them with different parents.” “Why, aren’t we photogenic enough?” I asked. 

Son 1 and Best Friend shrieked. They were standing on a rock and the incoming tide had cut them off.  Best Friend’s mother went to rescue them.  Best Friend couldn’t have got through the ten inches of water without soaking his trousers.  Son 1 could have waded through but wouldn’t.  And wouldn’t go to Best Friend’s Mum.  Wanted me.  So Son 2 and I tottered over to help him across.  The tide raced in at an almost menacing rate, and we moved up the beach several times. Eventually we decamped to the lower promenade, where Son 2 tried stealing all the Beach Cafe’s Toys For Sale. To distract him from the Lady’s large beach ball, I fished in the beach bag for ours, an ancient CBeebies comic freebie. I turned back and he was hanging over the edge of the 15 foot drop to the beach below, trying to throw stones down.  “Ball!” he said, tottering back for it.  War ensued as the bigger children removed it from him. Back home they watched Boogie Beebies while I made cauliflower and pasta in cheese sauce with leek, onion and garlic. We had veg box asparagus with it.  Wolfed.  “More,” commanded Son 2.  Son 1 ate his cauli cheese and had seconds of asparagus.  I felt like A Good Mother.

1.  Swimming Beauties

2.  Swimming Babies

3.  Swimming Boys

A Grim night.  Son 2 aged 17m woke hollering at 0030, and I went to him, switched his fan on (white noise) and helped him back to sleep.  I hadn’t got back to sleep when Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke up, and I went in with him.  When he went back to sleep I went in the double bed in Son 2’s room. I was so wrecked when he woke up that I tried to get him back to sleep.  He refused.  Needed new nappy.  Son 1 arrived.  No chance of getting back to bed.  Looking out at the river while I changed Son 2 I saw 10 swans, seven swimming in a long line, three stragglers bringing up the rear.   A record for the river. Son 1 said something about  seeing a long line of swans a few days ago.

Son 2 was again, uncontainable this morning.  Climbing, pulling things out of drawers, demanding mobile phones and the fancy ear thermometer.  He wriggled down from the bed while I was reading to him and marched off  to the bathroom, patting the taps, tugging at his pyjama top “A-ma.  A-ma.”  He always comes in the shower with me, but I’d already decided we were going to Baby swimming.  He was desperate to get in the pool, swam on the noodle with me, but really wanted to wander off on the tiles without me.  I let him the first time.  Skid. Bang.  Wah.  Huge bump on his head.  Split lip open again.  Blood everywhere.  I mopped him up and we went back in.  A bit more swimming, but then he wanted to get out.  He was asleep in the car seat when we got back to the house, and stayed asleep while I took his coat and shoes off, put him in his sleeping bag and put him in his cot.  

I went back to the Pool with Son 1. Best Friend and his brother were there with their parents.  And a colleague of mine from The Office with his three boys.  And the two boys nannied by Wonder Nanny’s friend.  And Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser and her two boys.  Son 1 played with Best Friend in the spa pools and the main pool.  He went down the Flume twice, me following behind him. Best Friend left. Son 1 played, I followed.  Lovely Chair (I sit on the noodle and he pulls it away; I pretend I don’t know who did it,) Terrible Weather (we sit under surf boards under the big fountain and the water hammers on top,) Killer Whales and Crocodiles.  Back at the house Son 2 had only just woken up and was having lunch.  Afterwards Son 1 made a picture of peacock with the feathers we found on Tuesday.  I was thinking eco-material collage.  Son 1 did his own thing and wouldn’t accept parental guidance.  It was roadkill.