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.  The Morning After The Night Before

2.  Air Pressure

3.  The Bear Garden

Jaysus if it’s like this the day after one of them is 2, what’s it going to be like when they’re 18?  Son 1 aged 4y 11m had a lie in, Son 2 aged 2 was live and kicking at 7am despite his crackalacking day yesterday and an extremely late night. The Man and I were washing up, rinsing bottles and gathering up leftover paper in bin bags. As far as I could tell, the tally was one bottle of vintage cava, one bottle of white wine, two cartons of pineapple juice and a heck of a lot of stubbies. We let them have a lazy day. They watched Son 1’s new Charlie and The Chocolate Factory DVD.  Yes I  know, but he had a hard week. He had to go to school on the Wednesday with the Best Weather this year, his chosen Party Entertainer dumped us, and he had to go to school on Son 2’s birthday. And it was from Oxfam so I was Saving The World.   

We planned to go to the library after lunch, but a parcel arrived from Younger Sister for Son 2, and Son 1, sick with excitement and sibling rivalry, shrieked so loudly I nearly had him adopted.  It was like he nail-gunned a knitting needle into my ear.  The whole side of my face went numb.  I picked him, carried him up two flights of stairs and hurled him into his bed, closing the blinds and shutting the door. Son 2 and I went into The Town, but every step made my ear hurt, so we came back. I suspect the problem has more to do with my rampant upper respiratory congestion than his high-frequency blast bombs, but I still felt assaulted.  Son 2 fell asleep in the Big Pram on the way back, Son 1 was asleep in his room, so The Man and I had Daytime To Ourselves. We worked on the fish tank. He fiddled with the pipe to the skull and the treasure chest, while I read fascinating facts about the plants he’d bought. We had about three minutes’ Quality Time before Son 2 woke up.

Son 1 pulled out last year’s Birthday Party things. He wanted another Teddy Bear’s picnic, so we let them play outside while I did some food.  The Man was admirable. Spontaneous decision to go outside again - taken well. Arrival of 30+ Teddy Bears from the plastic bag under Son 2’s cot.  Taken Very Well.  Pirate and Peter Pan flags and flagging hung from fences and washing line. Taken Very Well. Children hooting with excitement during meal, Taken Very Well.  The Teddy Bears had salad, green beans, new potatoes, and leftover chicken and cocktail sausages from yesterday.  They went to be at Six O’clock because they were Tired Little Teddy Bears.  Son 1 and Son 2 went considerably later. Taken Very Well.

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.  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.  Punch

2.  Pizzazz

3.  Yahoo

Boy oh boy.  I am still struggling to get up each morning.  When I get the boys up there is fruit for pre-breakfast snacks, to get started on their five-a-day while they’re still hungry.  I dress them.  And I sit with Son 2 aged 22m to read five books - chosen by him, of course. We are very Child Led in our house.  This will Develop His Understanding And Vocabulary. It must take place with no distractions or diversions (ie Son 1 aged 4y 10m) so Son 2 is Focused.  Sticker Books are only allowed in the morning. as they are too exciting before bed.  Trips to the window seat to watch the bin men or recycling lorry are allowed, but only if he comes straight back after.   If I stay in bed, all three of them sit in the lounge in their pyjamas and watch telly till I get up.  This morning I managed to heave myself up and Son 2 and I did our books. Then we went upstairs where Son 1 was watching Aladdin.  I was in a mad rush, but the Genie had just been let out of the lamp and I cannot resist him. We all danced.   I’m In The Mood To Help You Dude. 

I ticked off some things from the To Do list.  Booked hall for Son 1 and Son 2’s joint birthday party.  That’s a Load Off.   Mmm. That may have been Jack Nicholson, not Robin Williams.    So I now have a hall and a Party Leader.   All I need now is a bouncy castle and we’re rocking.  I flew around The Town and got presents and cards for The Man’s birthday.  And a couple of cheap DVDs from HMV for me.     I bought a birthday card for Wonder Nanny’s Other Family’s Mother, who’s having a party tomorrow that we can’t get to  because we were already booked.  I sent an email back to The Boy Who Broke My Heart, who sent me one yesterday.  Regular readers will know he had to phone me, http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/07/19/visitors/ in a very strange collision of our separate, parallel worlds.  We are going to have coffee next time I am in the Teeming Metropolis.  Not.  At least not until I’m the size 12 I was in 1983. 

And I got out for a run.  Unrelated to the last line of 2.  It was, AT LAST, a lovely evening. The Man had planned drinks with a work colleague, so I went out for a quick jog after the boys went to sleep. I ran through The Town, past the Different Coloured Houses Sitting By The Sea,  to Rockpool Beach.  Really lovely.  Very warm, and the tide was in, so I ran along the lower sea wall as the tips of the waves touched it.  The horizon was miles and miles away, the sea was blue and flat, the air felt crisp and clear.  Coming back I heard a cry of “Serenedays!” It was a very young colleague from The Office, freshly shaved, in a very clean, pressed shirt, on his way out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  He thought they would all end up in the Town’s Dodgy Nightclub.  I liked The Town’s early evening atmosphere. Families out… father and sons, matching builds and faces, walking shoulder to shoulder, eating chips from paper… big dock visitors in large, overwashed black tee shirts and thick jeans, smart ladies of a certain age escorted by husbands in chinos and pastel polo shirts… lippy teenagers “Keep running!” and girls in clothes I couldn’t dream of wearing…  I’m very glad I went out.

1.  Party 1 

2.  Party 2

3.  Party 3

A two party day. On the calendar, it looks so achievable. The Nursery Party was at 1030, in the village hall favoured by Nursery Mums.  The Town party was at 2pm, in the church hall favoured by some Town Mums.  Party 1 had a cross children’s entertainer. A member of the Magic Circle, professional, funny, but bossy and hostile, obsessed with his line. “Don’t come in front of it. Don’t put your hands on it. Don’t move the line.” As far as I could tell he needed the children behind the line because, occasionally, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and moved around blind.  Er.. strike the hat pulling kiddo - this is a 4th birthday party and they’ve just feasted on sugar. He told Son 1 off for playing with the whoopee cushion Son 2 aged 21 m won in pass the parcel during his magic show. Imagine how well that went down with the mother who thinks her child should colour over the lines to show he’s not constrained by groupthink.  

Party 2’s entertainer was camper, warmer, with a better hair cut and had the saving grace that he clearly liked children. Before the show Son 1 fell over so badly he ripped half a toenail off on his right foot and grazed his knees and shins.  Before I got there, the Entertainer, heaving in equipment and out of costume, had stopped and bent down to see if he was ok.  Did I mention we were early for the party? Charged around like loons, two children off their trolleys from Party 1, The Man giving a commentary unstilted by drawing breath on the perils of over-scheduling, and me still struggling because Someone Lost All The Sellotape on the day we had two parties. Pushing Son 1, oldest child on Mumsnet still in a Pram, up the road, miserable because I’m Always Late For Everything, we arrived at 1420 to find the start time was 1500. Hooray. At the end, I had everyone turning the hall upside down looking for Son 2’s shoes.  I’d taken them off and put them on a radiator. Gone. Nowhere. One of the children must have tidied them up in an unrealising grown up’s bag. Yes I know they didn’t fit, but they were the only ones we had.  Back home we found the shoes.  I’d taken them off at the first party. He’d gone to The Town one in bare feet. 

After the children were in bed, The Man and I sat out back at the patio table, talking, drinking wine and dunking bread in microwaved camembert.  A neighbour has a pack of three pre-teen girls who were outside till late, clearly having some sort of sleepover.  “How many children do you think they’ve got staying?” I asked. “Just one I think,” said The Man. “It just sounds like a lot more.”  Next Door But One, who went on a Business Trip with The MAn, was putting down slug pellets and bantering back and forth with The Man.  Michael Jackson songs wafted over from somewhere else.  The light held forever.  We might do that again.

1.  Sleeping In My Bed

2.  Banana Cake

3.  The Play Den

Midnight.  A stir in the air which means Son 1 aged 4y 4m is heading upstairs.  Son 2 aged 16m started roaring.  I sat up.  Son 1 crawled into bed behind me.  I waited to see if Son 2 would settle, but he wanted someone to come, and he was doing his shouting-so-angrily-you-can-hear-his-throat-strain thing. “Did you wake Son 2 up?” I asked Son 1. “No.” “Did you peek in his room at all?” “I didn’t go in his room.”  Son 2 was using everything he had, heels upwards, in his yelling.  I went downstairs to him.  The quilt of the bed in his room was turned back.  Son 1 had obviously got in the bed, snugged across unsuccessfully looking for a parent, padded away upstairs… and set his brother off.  By 0130 Son 2 was back in a deep sleep.  I plopped him in the cot, and went next door to sleep in Son 1’s bed.  I was freezing and needed an extra blanket.  Ah.  Son 1’s broken nights have coincided with this cold snap.  We are indeed Terrible Parents.

In the morning I told Son 1 that someone had, indeed, been into Son 2’s bedroom in the night and woken him up.  Son 1 laughed.  “It was me.”  Son 2 wanted food.  I took him downstairs while I made drinks and snacks.  He stood on dining chairs propped up by the worktops.  Direct line of sight to  the tub containing banana cake made by Wonder Nanny on Friday.  “Aahhh,” points Son 2.  I don’t think it’s possible to deflect Son 2 from a food mission once he’s got an idea in his head.  He ate two pieces.  And another piece for breakfast.

Son 1 had an invitation to a joint Nursery party at a Tourist Attraction 30 miles away.  The day was planned.  Son 2’s sleep.  Lunch. In the car and off we go.  Son 2, bunged up with banana cake,  wouldn’t eat an atom of lunch.     We walked into the Tourist Attraction. “You know Mummy, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Son 1, taking in the slides, the soft play, and the Big Uns’ playstuff.   Half the size of the Bird Park play area, with four times as many children.   He sat on the sides, swinging his legs, and trying to get me to ask his Nursery friends to play with him.   He got there in the end.  Son 2 loved it.  Ball pool, play with the air jets.  Slides.  Climbing over the Big Uns’ playstuff. 90 minutes of heaving Son 2 up and down, round and along… sometimes checking on Son 1, sometimes playing with him, and it was time for Party Tea.  I tried to get Son 2 to eat a ham sandwich.  He settled for a chocolate doughnut.  At last I could go and get a cappacino.  The coffee machine was out of order.  Twenty minutes later, an announcement.  The loos were also out of order.  Tea over, more play, and then we rounded up our balloons and headed home, listening to Peter Pan and (one of us) munching cake and eating lollipops all the way.

1.  Pre-match

2.  Kick off

3.  Post-match

Another grim night.  Son 2 aged 1 was hot, fretful, unsettled. He was in his cot at 0045 when he woke  needing a nappy change - and that was that.  I couldn’t get him back to sleep.  By 0330 I was giving him Calpol and water.  Then he needed another nappy change.  If he gets a long sleep this morning, he’ll still be able to enjoy The Party, I thought.  He didn’t.  I got him back to sleep over breakfast, but Son 1 aged 3y 11m, beside himself with excitement, was making up party bags at 7am.    And woke Son 2.  We wheeled them both in The Town for some last-minute stuff we needed… and went 3/4 of a mile to the cheap department store.  And all the way back.  But Son 2, eyes hanging, head lolled over in The Pram, cheeks hot and red, didn’t sleep.

The party was great.  Really good.  20 children - everyone we invited except one who’d got a better offer and two who’d gone camping on the only nice day we’ve had all year.     A whacking great bouncy castle - me and The Man had a go before everyone arrived (harder work than it looks,) a nursery nurse leading games, various children from Son 2 up to a 6 year old in various costumes, and a great spread of mums with four dads.  Son 1 was in his Captain Hook outfit and bounced and ran and played and laughed and chased and danced.  I was needed three times.  To ask if he could take his (Captain Hook) socks off (yes;)  to complain that he wasn’t finding anything first in the Treasure Hunt (no action: an important Lesson of Life;) to ask if he could go and play when everyone was still eating their tea (don’t you want to wait for for your birthday cake?)  We had a Peter Pan cake, black skull and crossbone cupcakes and party bags with Peter Pan finger puppets in.

Son 2, I can safely say, had a miserable time.  He was tired, hot, and not at all in the mood.  I carried him around with me all afternoon.  He ate a tiny breadstick, some strawberries and some grapes - great food for nappy rash.  But all he wanted was to be with me and go to sleep.  His Godmother was brilliant, sorted out drinks for grown ups, arranged the food, did small people drinks when they were all gasping… cut cake, wrapped it in napkins, and put it in party bags.  After Son 2 poo-ed on my hand I thought I’d better keep away from the food.  I am worried about him.  I’m going to sleep with him tonight in the hope he gets better quicker.  Son 1 came back exhausted.  I’d told him he could open Son 1’s presents, as his birthday has been, but not his own. “Is this Son 2’s?  Is this Son 2’s”  You’re nearly four years old now child, learn to read your own name.  I didn’t say. (He did surprise us this morning, by writing a perfect initial when we asked him if he could.  Tum ti tum.  Didn’t learn that at the knee of his highly-educated mother.)  In bed I asked him if he’d enjoyed his party.  “Yes. But we had to come home too soon.”  As I write this there are fireworks across the river.  Might have to have those next year as well.