1.  Lies

2.  Damn Lies

3.  Statistics

Last night I worked late and went to bed very late.   Well towards 1am, I tiptoed upstairs, weightless, soundless, I did not breathe.  The Man rolled over, grumbled and switched off the telly.   I took out my contact lenses.  I peered behind me.  Son 1 had teleported in,  lurching round like a drunk. The Man was in the Big Bed, he wanted to lie down, but “Where’s Mummy?” “In the bathroom.”  Son 1 was still bothered by The Man in the Big Bed.  “When you’re not here, if I wake him up when I come to bed, he settles down in your side watching me while I take off my make up and do my teeth, and then I have a little read in bed, and then we both go to sleep.”  The Man harrumphed and  trogged off to the Blue Room.  Yes yes I know that Son 1 will one day be off with She Who Will Never Be Good Enough For Him and I should be Putting My Eggs In The Man’s Basket (this is going badly wrong) but what the hell. It was the way Son 1 just stood patiently at the bedside waiting for his space to become available… 

So this morning I was matchsticks-under-the-eyelids. Another oh God look at the state of the boys, never mind, Wonder Nanny can do it when she gets here, bye, sesh.  I am doing better though on reading to Son 2.  We did our five books.  Pinocchio, for God’s sake. He insisted.  This is Son 1’s library book, the Disney series that everyone has at least 1 of, somewhere.  I should be reading stuff that is Rooted In Reality.  About washing machines and buggies and looking at leaves.  So. Son 2. Gepetto makes this toy, and the only woman in the story, winged, badly drawn, wearing a pillow case,  makes it come alive, and it goes shopping and gets mugged - twice -  and then gets caged, whereupon Gepetto rescues it and they all live happily ever after.  Son 2 couldn’t give a hoot, and wanted it twice. He’s only really looking at the pictures of the nose getting bigger. “Wee wee,” he said, at the end.  I went all the way downstairs to get his potty. He rejected it, sat on Son 1’s old booster seat, and wee-d in the loo. PSB. “Bye bye Mummy,” he said, as I went off to The Office. 

At bedtime, Son 1 gets the book time. We took out 17 from the library, some for Son 2, but most chosen by him. ”Improving your fishing,” has been a bit of a challenge.  I always put at least one book about another country or culture in the pile. ”And the liberal, with a small ‘l’, cries in front of the TV,” sang Billy Bragg when I was Young. ”Coming Home” went in on the strength of a cover drawing of a black woman in a hijab with a small boy. Oh-Good-Islam-Portrayal-Not-Arab-We’ll-Have-It was the quarter second attention it got as I tossed it in.  Hassan is a Somalian refugee.  Son 1 and I have done Somalia, in answer to the “Mummy, are there any pirates now?” question. “There are some very poor people from a very poor country run by bullies and they steal other people’s boats and ships because they Have Nothing.” “What happens to them?” “President Obama (Most Powerful Man In The World.  In answer to: “Who’s that man on your book?”) sent a big ship and told them to stop. Now darling, let’s clear out Son 2’s old toys and take them to Oxfam.”   Hassan’s Uncle is killed by soldiers who burn his house down. Son 1 wanted it twice. ”Is his Uncle dead?” “What happened to the animals?” “Where are his cousins?” “Will it happen here?”  At this point my inner Nanna broke through and I couldn’t resist. “No. Because we are one of the richest countries in the world, and you are such a lucky little boy, and that is why Daddy and I get cross when you don’t realise - ” Son 1 burst into tears. “I’m scared of the soldiers.”  Gepetto was a woodcarver, I said, and one day he made a puppet. 

1.  Daddy Rings The Bell

2.  Show That All Is Well

3.  Rocking, Rolling, Raging

Man, what a week. It doesn’t feel like I’ve seen Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2 aged 22m. Which is daft, because I had my half day on Tuesday and as usual had Wednesday.  I left early again, this time needing to go to The City for The Office.    Son 2 apparently had a really bad night and kept The Man up throughout.  I didn’t hear anything. This is Indeed A Good Thing.  Apart from they were both fairly fractious by the time I got up.  Son 2 was lovely for our morning reading time though.  Say Hello to The Animals, Full Of Love, The Boy On The Beach, Maisie’s Fire Engine and The Snail And The Whale.  I like to think I do 5 books in the morning with him and 5 books in the evening. So he has 70 books a week.  This will Help His Receptive Language and Ensure He Has A Large And Confident Vocabulary.  In Son 2’s Top 10 words are Burp, Bart (for fart) and Bum Bum, when he bends over and waggles his bottom in the air.   These have so far not featured in any of his children’s books.  They are though heavily over-used by Son 1.  And before you start really hating me, the 5 books is a target.  Many, many days I am just too knackered.

A long old day in The City, and then back again. I stopped at Waitrose.  Like I did on Tuesday.  When I bought a two-pint bottle of organic milk, got it home and found it had a use-by date of the previous day, and a sell-by date of the day before that. Waitrose!  I always thought they were up there with John Lewis and… John Lewis as quality brands. I phoned them up and they grovelled, and told me to come back in and they’d give me a refund. They gave me a refund and a new bottle of milk. Sell by August 7. I checked. 

Younger Sister is down, just till tomorrow. She had Nanna to stay, and brought her back yesterday. So I had a Grand Plan that we could all eat out at Pizza Express.  5 o’clock, I said. And then got stuck, stuck, stuck in the traffic. Friday evening in the school holidays, what was I thinking of? i got there at about 6pm. I could hear a baby crying from outside. Too young to be  Son 2, I thought. As I came up the stairs, I looked into the eyes of a contorted, red, screaming toddler face.  Son 2 in Tantrum Town. The Man was just Iron Maiden-ing him into the high chair.  There wasn’t much I could do with him either.  It was good to get out, and good to see Younger Sister, who goes back tomorrow.  Son 2’s second mega-strop this week. I hope it’s not because I’ve not been around.

1.  Tik Man

2.  Seeing Straight

3.  Still

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has always sat patiently through scores and scores of books. I used to read about the Poor Mothers who had to read the same thing over and over, and rested content that my superior parenting skills  meant my son never obsessed over single stories. That was before Son 2 aged 21m. Enter  Stick Man.  “Tik Man.  Tik Man.”  From the minute he wakes up till our bedtime no-wriggle-room routine . “Tik Man. Tik Man.”  Stick Man has so many of Son 2’s Favourite Things. There is a dog, birds, sticks (naturally), a beach and a great section on being Stuck - another most-beloved phrase “DHUK!” “DHUK!”  “What would you like to read next darling?  Tiddler?  Feelings? PIrate-lift-the-flap? Farm-lift-the-flaps?” “Tik Man.  Tik Man.”

The MAn and I met in The Big Town to have our eyes tested. The optician is the father of one of Son 1’s best friends.  Optician’s Son 1 has impetigo. They have been told they will all get it.  “Are you all right?” he asked. “We’re all fine. I’m just worried about my eyes.  I can’t see in the dark, my distance vision is getting worse, I couldn’t see the splinter in Son 1’s finger in Kensington Gardens… I can’t see the boys’ scalps to check for lice and I can’t read ingredients or instructions on food packets.  It’ s clearly the result of too much computer-screen work, we agreed, although with everyone else it’s age-related. The Optician says I need a new pair of contact lenses because mine are scratched, and if I just go and buy a weak pair of off-the-shelf glasses they’ll help. And yes, I probably need to wear glasses with my contact lenses.  This is apparently the point where many people give up their lenses for glassses. I don’t know if I could . I’ve worn contact lenses for 31 years.

 Back home we took the  boys to the yacht club. Son 1 took his new golf set and played with Little Friend aged 4, whose mummy and daddy were also there.   The boys had a great time. At the start, Son 1 couldn’t hit a golf ball… by the time we left he had a respectable swing. Son 2 ran up and down bouncing a tennis ball. The Man and I had a couple of drinks and then came back. We put them to bed at half past nine and we are so praying we get a lie in tomorrow. Today’s fantastically good thing to top all good things was that for the third or fourth night in a row, when I left Son 2 he didn’t cry his eyes out. I  left him,said night night, walked out and  we didn’t hear a peep from him. Except through two run-throughs of Stick Man. .

1.  Hair Brush

2.  Paint Brush

3.  Tooth Brush

Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 19m slept in till 7am.  Eight hours’ sleep.  Unheard of.  Amazing.  Carved on stone tablets as A Good Thing.  Son 1 aged 4y 6m needed a wee and I had beaten him to it.  Sitting on the floor, his legs in his little “W” shape, he gazed up at me.  There is not another man alive who would look at me, sitting on the loo, in my pyjamas, no make up, mad professor hair, and say: “You’re so beautiful.”

I left The Office late, again.  Another phone call to Wonder Nanny.  Another “No Worries,” from her.   I got home to a silent house.  They were all outside.  Son 1 naked, painting the shed with water and a big brush.  Son 2 stripped down to his nappy, playing with a plastic toy box full of water.  Son 1 hopped around, whooping, excited.  Son 2 was beside himself at seeing me, and then burst into tears as a full paintbrush-load of cold water was flicked all over him by an out-of-control Son 1. 

Books, bath, bed.  Son 2 was in the bath, Son 1 and I were cleaning his teeth.  Two brushrounds downstairs, two brushrounds upstairs, One For Luck and A Good Old Spit in the sink between each one.  Son 1 has added another part to the ritual.  We press our faces together photo-fashion, look in the mirror and smile.   This evening he looked at our reflections and again, out of the blue said  ”You are beautiful, Mummy.”  I had them both in bed and asleep before 8pm, which considering the time I got back, was another Very Good Thing Indeed.

1.  Order, Order

2.  Brains And Brawn

3.  Root A Toot

A good night.   A day off. A slow start. Son 1 aged 4y and 6m wanted me to read Mr Men books to him.  He and The Man seemed to think he was banned from telly this morning.  He wasn’t.  But I wasn’t going to let on.  We were still in our pyjamas when Wonder Nanny arrived.  She is very impressed with The Man’s new coat hooks and shelves in the hall, and with the new shelves in Son 2 aged 18m’s room.   There are no longer piles of about 100 books on the floor in Son 1’s room.  I never minded, I thought it added a certain don-ish quality to the place.  But apparently it was Not Normal.   Always, the people who can’t see mess are married to people who see mess when it isn’t there.   For the same reasons bees can’t fly.  

We went to the Bird Park.  We all love it, and I wanted to go places before the schools break up.  “Shall we have a little play and then have some lunch and then see the animals?” said Son 1.  That’s what we always do.  The dear mite and his love of routine again.  (As I often say about The Man.)  Son 2 can go down the baby slide sitting up now.  Son 2 picks up his own mat for the Big Slide.  Son 2 climbs up slopes, climbs up stairs, totters through, tried to get over… anything Son 1 does.  Son 1 is not a fan of Big Slides, but loves doing circuits including a smaller slide, and loved us all doing it together.  I am so glad Son 2 is such a little bruiser.  I always used to think Son 1’s physical caution was related to me being too over-protective.  Along came Son 2, and with one bound Mummy is free…

After lunch Son 2 was fainting with tiredness, so we put him in the Big Pram and wheeled him round to the birds.  He lasted as far as the otters before demanding to get out again. And then he walked down to the farm, hoo-hooing at owls, squawking at parrots and saying “Bye bye” to the cockatoos.  We fed goats and sheep, and sang Baa Baa Black Sheep to the black sheep with the black tongue. Son 2 baa-ed at them.  I put him back in the pram and he finally nodded off.   Son 1 prowled and ran round to the penguins.  Sat demurely on the wall. Got picked to feed them.  On the way back we stopped off at a big M and S looking for shoes.  We finally found a pair of flashing trainers that fit. Not quite what I wanted, but Son 1 is happy.

1.   Dawn Presence

2.   Perfect Presents

3.   Present Tense

The Man was away overnight.  I woke at 0615, aware of a presence, a pitter-patter of footsteps, the light touch of hands feeling for me in the dark and a whispered: “Mummy I want a wee.”  “Ok-don’t-worry-I’ll-put-a-light-on.” “It’s coming. Now.”  “Okay-okay-okay.”  We sorted him out, and then Son 1 aged 4y 2m climbed into bed. The idea was that we would cuddle in the cold and have a little snooze.  He didn’t stop talking.  We went downstairs for snacks and drinks, and then heard Son 2 aged 15 m wailing.  “Go upstairs and look after him while I bring the tray up.” Up he went.  Son 2 stopped crying.  When I got up Son 1 had put the lights on, put a balloon in his brother’s cot and was bouncing on the bed to entertain him.  A natural.  I might get him to babysit.

I Christmas-ed shopped at lunchtime.  Nanna is going to see The Family on Saturday, so my meagre pile of presents needed boosting.  And Nanna is going on the train, so the presents must be no weight.  She wanted make-up, which I think is quite cool as she is a lady of a certain age.  I only really managed to get hers, but I was pleased with it.  I looked everywhere for light presents suitable for The Brother and The Godfather.  Socks. Belts. Hankies.  Stuff it we’ll have to pay for lunch next time they visit. Teenaged Niece and Nephew are going to have money, which is all they want anyway.  And then I bought two more books for Son 1.  I had a long, long look for stocking fillers for Son 2.  I really am finding him very hard.  He’s got an ambulance Son 1 picked for his birthday that he likes, but other than it’s remote controls, computers, wires, phones and stairs.  And books. He likes books.  His latest trick is climbing up on the piles in Son 1’s room and surfing down on the top book, but he does like looking at them as well.

The Man came back from his Business Trip, which was a third Good Thing.   He had the shower on for Son 1 when I came up the stairs, which meant he didn’t hear Son 2 screaming because he’d caught his little baby fingers in a cupboard door.  I keep thinking I should just let Son 2 learn the hard way not to play with doors … but then I flash forward to the interview in the Guardian: “I lost the use of my right hand when I was a year old and my fingers got flower-pressed in the door hinge.”  We did the whole of Son 1’s babyhood with just two stair gates, so we still don’t quite believe the way Son 2 climbs on the the things we put down to stop him climbing.  We’re sure that his accepting, biddable side will emerge in a few more weeks.

1.  Little Yellow Book

2.  Cuckoo

3.  Late Lambs

Son 2 aged 15m enjoyed his books this morning. We do five if we can… today we got up to seven before he decided to crawl off towards the bathroom.  He pointed and “Am-ma”-d at the book shelf, and then tottered over, reached up, and picked his favourite animal picture book.  Baby Bright.  We sit there flipping through pictures of a horse, a fox, an owl, a parrot, guinea pigs, a zebra, a lion, a dog, a penguin.  Son 2 loves the fish.  Am-ma is his current word for… everything really.  Milk. Mummy.  Fetch that. I dropped that.  I want to switch the light on and off.  He is also doing Uh-Oh if he drops something, and Ah-lo for hello.  Various snap snap quack quack noises for crocodiles and ducks.  Just yesterday and today I’ve noticed him trying to make new sounds.  Maybe that’s why he falls over when he’s walking.

Sickness has gripped The Office, so it was intense and fast-paced with every minute over-filled.    A long, hard day.  I was so late back.  Boys in pyjamas, playing, staying up waiting for me.  Son 2 was legging it for the top flight of stairs as I came up towards the landing.  “Cuckoo,” I said, from the stairs below him, peering through the bannisters.  ”Ah-lo,” he said and carried on trying to escape upstairs.  I took him up while I changed.  He grapped a remote, climbed on a toybox and tried to switch the telly on.  “Am-ma,” he pointed “Am-ma.”  I picked him up and took him downstairs and he launched into a high-Richter tantrum.  I couldn’t cuddle him, I could barely hold him. Plank boy, horizontal in my arms, head thrown back, heart pounding in his little boy chest. I got him back with his animal book, but then when we stopped reading, he tried paddying again.  I put him in the cot and he passed out within minutes.  Overtired.  The  vaccination on Thursday. He’s just not himself.

I’ve changed the name of the blog.   I have a colleague who’s worked in South Africa.   Way before the boys, I remember him talking about an expression there for a child born to an older mother.  A Late Lamb.  It came back to me after Son 1 aged 4y 2m was born.  I like it.  A Spring in the Autumn feel.  Like my boys.

1.  Awakening

2.  Shopping

3.  Skating

6am. Son 2 aged 13m wailed; The Man went down; Son 1 aged 4y 1m joined them.  I dozed upstairs.  Son 1 came up.  “Son 2 is saying Ma Ma.  Come down.” “Iwillinaminute,” I mumbled.  The Man switched the light on and off and on and off.     Son 2 is lovely, toddling off to pull books down from the shelf, sitting still(ish) while we read them.  And then he wants our shower.   I get out first, and then ask him to pull out the plug so I can get him out.  Unfortunately he’s now started to pull the plug out in his evening bath as well.  Then he wants his breakfast.  Meanwhile Son 1 is lying upstairs on the big bed, watching CITV forever until we drag him down by his ankles.

Son 1 was incredibly tired today - we all were, but he cramped our style a bit.  The Man wanted to go to The Big Town to get some things for tomorrow’s Business Trip.  We all went, with a vague idea that The Man would be with the boys, we wouldn’t rush and we’d just have a low key family day.  Son 1 found a bike he liked in Halford’s… then asked to go the Early learning Centre, and then got in a strop over us not buying him anything.  We walked back to the car in the hammering rain.  By the time we got to the Big Supermarket, we’d decided only I would do the Big Shop.  The Man drove round to get them to sleep.  Son 1 slept. Son 2 didn’t.

At home Son 1 was keen to go down the street with his skates on.  We dressed him up and off we went.  He can balance on them, he can walk with them.  We didn’t go very far but he had a lot of laughs.  He wanted to knock on our neighbours’ house to show them his rig out.  They were admiring.  Although I think Son 1 was thinking more of Halloween when we Trick or Treated them, and she opened the door wearing orange lipstick in a towering witch’s hat.  Son 2 went down in the cot in minutes tonight.  He’s woken up about three times… but I really do think we’re getting there.

1.  Early reading

2.  Flashing Blue Lights

3. Down In The Cot

Son 2 aged 13m started off in his cot but wailed long and loud at some time post-midnight.  I had taken a whacking slug of Night Nurse so The Man went to the rescue.  In the morning we were all up late. I felt a lot better this morning… some clear blue water now between me and death’s door.  Son 2’s started having an opinion on which books we should do in the morning.  Today’s favourite was the little Word book… pictures of things to do with The Park, The Beach, The Farm, Wild Animals etc.  I think he’s using it and other similar books like dictionaries.  He sits very still staring at the pictures and listening to the words.  And then at the end flips the pages back to his favourite ones.

In the car, Son 1 aged 4y 1m played with his flashing blue light sabre from last night.  He was late for Nursery, and clung and clung.  He wants Son 2 to go to Nursery with him.  He wants to stay at home with Wonder Nanny and Son 2.  Oh boy.    I really do think he’d be bored at home, but maybe the New Nursery is just too far and too school-like.  The Office was, as usual, like stepping inside a mad computer game where for every one thing you successfully swat, three more leer up laughing.  For nine hours.  I staggered out, got into the car and drove home, remembering this time to put my headlights on.  A blue flashing light followed me for many miles.  Till I realised Son 1’s light sabre had bumped itself on in the rear passenger footwell.  

The Tumble Drier man came while I was at The Office.  It’s mended, hooray.  And Wonder Nanny made muffins and minestrone soup while Son 2 was sleeping.   Son 2 was being bathed when I got back.  Son 1 was playing with a Pirate spotting book I bought from an Usbourne woman’s stall.  I cuddled Son 2, sang him his lullaby, gave him his milk and PUT HIM DOWN IN HIS COT hooray hooray.  Much excitement.  I can’t remember the last time I put him to sleep in his cot - not since well before I stopped feeding him.  I gave up at the point where I just couldn’t feed him to sleep any more, so it must be a couple of months.  He woke up once just as I’d finished with Son 1, and he yelled and yelled so I had to start again with him.  But he’s been sleeping there quietly so far for the rest of the evening so far…

1.  Stirrings

2.  Back to School

3.  Sprint Finish

It was hell getting Son 2 aged 13m down in the cot last night - took more than half an hour - but he stayed in till nearly 6am, which I am counting as a second night sleeping through.  If he makes it tonight I will start seeing if I can put him down in the cot, rather than leaving him lying on a double bed with pillows either side.  He was hungry and he was thirsty.  A clear, definite “Na na” Which he ate in less than five minutes once we were downstairs.  He was brilliant for his books this morning, sitting still for The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Well most of it.  As soon as the pages you can stick your fingers in had gone, he was off.  His favourite is still the animals book.  He can now fling his arm up for the elephant, make fish mouth noises and roar like a lion.  There is a little confusion between the noises for a duck’s quack quack and a crocodile’s snap-snap but it’s easily done.  He is also definitely yeh yeh ing, and nnnnnn ing. And Ma Ma has returned, but with considerably more “SORT ME OUT NOW” welly.

We were a bit worried about Son 1 aged 4 y 1m going back to Nursery, because with his two-week half term and his ear infection it’s been three weeks.  He was ok.  He made me park way up the entrance road, and we arrived just as the children were sitting down for the register.  He plonked himself down on the floor and gazed up at the teacher as if I wasn’t there.  Wonder Nanny picked him up and said the teacher had said he’d been very tired in the afternoon.  Again, it’s the playground.  Too noisy.   

Other good things: my computer came back from the mender’s, which will make The Office a bit easier, because I can work in the evenings again, hooray hooray.  We have a number for a chiropodist for The Man’s sore feet.   Wonder Nanny has sent off the registration form for Ofsted.  We’ve accepted a party invitation for Son 1.  “That’s good news, isn’t it Mummy?”  He’s getting the hang of this.  And Son 2 stole the show.  As he was exhausted, I held him under his armpits to let him practise walking - one of his favourite things, and I thought if he did his usual hold-on-to-my-fingers-walk he’d stumble and get fed up.  When he felt the extra support he just sprinted.  Up and down the kitchen like Forest Gump, with me having to do a running, bent-over waddle to keep up with him.  He chortled and squealed and laughed and laughed.  So did Son 1.  I knew we were in for it when he finally walks… it never occurred to me that it will in fact be much worse when he can RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN.