1.  First Night Self-Soothing

2.  First Day Back

3.  First Knights Kaput

The boys slept ok, I didn’t.  Son 2 aged 17m woke three times before midnight.  The first time I helped him back to sleep, and put his fan on.  The other two we left him, and he didn’t cry for very long before going back to sleep on his own.  That was a Fantastic Thing, from a child who has months and months of evidence that if he just STANDS IN HIS COT AND SHOUTS VERY LOUDLY FOR LONG ENOUGH HIS MOTHER WILL COME.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke crying after time 3, and I went into bed with him.  I did get back in the Big Bed with The Man eventually, but it felt like I was up a long time.

Back to School.  We left on time and had a relatively painless trip to Nursery.  Back to The Office, which was also ok.  The Colleague we saw at the Swimming Pool yesterday asked about Son 2’s lip.  And I confessed to something I left out of the blog yesterday.  In the Pool, after he’d fallen over and split his lip open for the fourth time since his accident, I was trying to stuff the blood back up Son 2’s nose so the lifeguards wouldn’t see I had a bleeding baby in the water.  I had already paid £2.80 and didn’t want to get out so soon. This parenting technique is apparently not yet in the manuals. 

The Man is off on another Business Trip.  I picked Son 1 up late, hey ho, and tried to make up the half an hour we needed to get back for Wonder Nanny’s leaving time.   Temporary traffic lights in Next Town.  No chance.  When we got in Son 1 had just woken and was crying… Son 2 demanded to be picked up.  Son 1 was clinging on one arm, so Wonder Nanny put Son 2 on the other.  He reached and cuddled Son 1.  Twice.  It was lovely.  Part of the reason Son 1 was crying was he’d lost his new Dragon Fly Gormiti at Nursery.  I gave him another one, A Lord Of The Air.  Situation sort of saved, although Son 1 did love the Dragon Fly.  He took them upstairs to play with at bathtime.  Son 2 picked up Magmion, Lord of the Lava,  ran with it and left it on the bathroom floor.  And I trod on it and broke the tail off.  Situation … er… AFU.

1.  Lying In

2.  Lying Down

3.  Laid Up

Son 2 aged 17m shrieked, sobbed and shouted at 11pm. I got him back down in his cot.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m woke screaming at some Godforsaken hour.  I went down. He was still half asleep, so I carried him up to the Big Bed.  Son 2 slept till 7am, starlet.  We went downstairs, he had snacks and milk, I had coffee.  We came back and read some books.  We had a shower… I dressed him.  I didn’t dare go back up for either my clothes or contact lenses, so I sat playing with him in Son 1’s abandoned bedroom till Wonder Nanny arrived.  We headed on down for breakfast, and Son 1 materialised at about 0845, draped round a stair rail, half-crying, half-sulking.

We had a slow morning; Wonder Nanny took Son 2 upstairs for a nap.   He cried and reached for me, his eyes beseeching.  She got him settled without so much as a dust speck stirring.  How can that happen?  She took him upstairs… she came down after 15 minutes.  No yelling, so screeching, no punching through ear drums like he’s opening a new jar of coffee.  On the Bright Side, she’s an excellent Control in our childcare experiment.  Son 2 doesn’t toss and turn and refuse to settle because he’s a wired child, acutely receptive to stimulus, who finds relaxing very difficult.   Son 2 has no problems at all with Wonder Nanny.  Son 2 just Wants His Mum.

We roasted a chicken and some vegetables which they kind of ate, and then went out on an expedition to get a present for, and visit, the Three Year Old With The Broken Arm.   Playdoh Operation.  I thought it was funny.  At the invalid’s house, we inspected the new bunk beds.  Very nice indeed.  “We were hoping they’ wouldn’t sleep in our bed anymore once they had these…” said the Mother, as Three Year Old heaved himself up, the plaster casted arm trailing.  “Well it’s worked for Three Year Old, hasn’t it?” I said.  “Two nights in hospital instead.”  Back home, The Man returned.  Son 1 chose stories about sleepovers and poorliness for bedtime.  We read “There’s No Place Like Home,”  in which a mole looks for a new house.  “There’s no place like my home,” said Son 1, snuggling down.

1.  Capitulation

2.  Corruption

3.  Celebration

A New Family Rule.  If Little Children Want To Sleep With Their Parents They Can.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m thinks this is good idea.  “Is this because of me?”  “Yes,” I said.  No.  It’s because we had the most wretched night with Son 2 aged 16m.  Plot summary:  he wanted to lie in the big bed with a grown up;  I wanted him to sleep in his cot.    Neither The Man nor I sleep particularly well when we have a child with us.  And we both get grumpy when we don’t sleep.  So when Son 2 stood up and bayed at 2315, I tried to get him back to sleep.  He roared.  He shouted till his voice went hoarse.  He screamed and screeched and shrieked.  He woke Son 1.  He finally stopped at 1am.  i put Son 1 back in his bed.  Made hot chocolate.  And was then worried that something might be wrong with Son 2 so went into his room.  In the early hours he awoke again, and I just popped him into bed with me.  He went straight back to sleep.

We had Horrid Henry again on the way to Nursery.  I am going to retire him.  Too many: “Bor-ring”s and raspberries from Son 1.  I like to think a “You’re terrible parents” was rooted in Horrid Henry, rather than any seriously thought-through conclusion.  So at Ottakars I began the re-education programme.  We now have Peter Pan, Roald Dahl, and Stories For Five Year Olds.   Back from The Office, I walked in as Son 1 had just hit Son 2.  Oh somehow he got his new CDs.  “I hope you choose Peter Pan for us to listen to tomorrow,” I said.  “Which one do you want to hear?”  “Peter Pan,” said Son 1.  Hooray hooray.  We may yet get him back from Horrid Henry.

Reading to Son 1 after bathtime, I tried to get any information at all from him about his day at Nursery.  “Who did you sit with at lunch?”  “Can’t remember.”  “What did you do that was fun?” “Nothing.” ”What was your favourite bit of the day?”  “When Mummy came home.”  He deserved every one of those new CDs.

1.  Driving Away

2.  Driving Instructor

3.  Driven

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when The Man went to bed last night and then could not be settled.  The rolling around in the cot, the propping himself up, the lying down, the sighing, the wah-ing… and underpinning it all the great talent he has for lying as still as possible for long enough to convince me that he’s gone to sleep, waiting till I’ve gone and WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.  He woke Son 1 aged 4y 2m up, he kept The Man awake, he broke my back as Yet Again I bent over the cot with my head next to his.  And in the end of course I just got fed up and left him to it.  My scientific, highly-researched I-love-you-and-I-hate-you-being-unhappy-but-I-just-have-to-sleep-now technique for problem sleepers.

And then we all got up too late to get Nursery on time.  So for the second (Nursery) morning in a row, I had to ring up and confess we’d be late.  I missed out reading to Son 2… I barely saw Son 2.  We were so late we saw Wonder Nanny.  In the car, Son 1 interrogated me about stolen cars.  I told him the story of how my car had been stolen from outside An Office, many years ago.  He promised to catch the Burglars and Kill Them.  I gently did the “we don’t talk about killing anyone, Son 1, even burglars, because killing is always wrong,” thing.  “OK. When I catch them I will kill or spray them with space goo.  Which do you want Mummy?”  I chose the space goo.   

There was an Office Business Lunch today, and the two new people I met were both runners.  One was just back from the New York Marathon, so we swapped stories about how fab it is.  The other is a triathlete, and we swapped stories about injuries.  I told the triathlete I felt guilty about spending what little time I have at home with the children on running, like I did on Sunday.  He said neither of his children is sporty, but they are both driven in their own chosen fields and he thinks it’s because they’ve watched him and his wife - a runner - work towards their events.  I was buoyed and inspired.  And then I got home, and I was tired, and it took an age to get the boys to bed, and it’s raining… And I didn’t go out for a run.

1.  Getting A Goal Back

2.  The Hall in the Squall

3.  A Lovely Boy

Grim, grisly, gruesome night.  I went to bed late and Son 2 aged 14 months woke howling at around 2am.  Around because I knew he was crying, but thought it was the morning and The Man would get him.  The Man snored by my side.  At 2.30am I snapped awake, looked at the clock and went down.  I think Son 2 is still suffering from the MMR - he’s still got his rash - so I gave him calpol and water, cuddled him, put the fan on and then did head-in-the-cot.  At 0310 I gave up.  Too tired and needed to go to bed.  I called The Man down, he got into bed with Son 2, I went upstairs to sleep.   One to Son 2.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m had a 4th birthday party - a child from Nursery - 20+ miles away on the other side of The Big Town.  We arrived at the Village Hall as a freezing squall blew in.  Two other families there, and no other cars.  In the (empty) hall, we compared notes.  I had the invitation in the car.  Back into the squall.  Son 2’s thin wisps looked Brylcreamed to his head.  We needed the Church Hall. Off we went, us in the front of the convoy.  Into the right Hall.  Say hello to Birthday Girl’s Dad.  There’s the changing bag, there’s the baby food bag.  Where’s the present?  Son 1 went in, Son 2 and I went back to the car.  Back at the Village Hall, there was a Mother, on foot, with small daughter, looking for the party.  I explained.  ”I thought it was strange,” she said.  “There was nobody here, but there was a present on the table with Birthday Girl’s name on it.”  The squall whipped our faces.  They got in my car.  Sand. Feathers. Pine cones. Leaves. Dried out baby wipes. Breadstick crumbs.  Two pairs of posh pointy shoes for The Office.  Hell.

Back at the party I took Son 2 to sit on the side, at the front, thinking he would enjoy the balloons.  There was a magician, with 15 small children sitting on the floor gazing up at him.  In the front row was Son 1, the only child in fancy dress. Captain Hook.  The Magician asked for a helper. Up shot Son 1’s hand.  Up he went.  He laughed, he giggled, he yes-ed, he no-ed, he laughed again, spellbound.  Back he went.  I watch him in profile for the rest of the act.  Face tilted up, eyes dancing, smiling, laughing, calling out.   “A lovely boy…” clad in a red tailcoat with lace at the sleeves, “but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth.”  That first teeth smile in profile, backlit from the windows high above him, was heaven.

1. Sleeping face

2. Driving

3. Packing for school

Four nights sleeping through and Son 2 aged 8m screamed all evening and most of the night.  No idea why.  At four thirty - nice red tinge coming up over the horizon, oh how I try to be positive and enjoy these moments I would not have without my children - I went down to relieve The Man.  I decided I’d feed Son 2 at 5am.  He just rolled over next to me and went into a very light, I’m-going-to-pinch-mummy’s-skin-so-she-can’t-move-away sleep.  Leaving me lying next to him, peering at his little round face in the gloom, thinking what a privilege it is to lie beside a sleeping baby.

Drove over to The City today for a meeting with my colleagues from The Nearest Office.  It is, as ever, always nice to see them.  And of course it was well worth going.  I had a good drive, the sun was out, the sky was blue… and every forecourt had a queue.  Out-of-character current affairs reference there.   The only snag is, it’s a three-hour round trip and I still have to make up the travelling time somehow.

Son 1 aged three and a half has a taster day for his new nursery on Thursday.  This is the Posh, Outstanding but Inconvenient one we are sending him to in September.  He decided to pack everything he will need.  He first filled a Bookstart treasure box with books, comics, crayons, wooden animals, his Fireman Sam suitcase, a wind-up fluffy dog toy and a Postman Pat toy sword.  He then started upstairs, tipping out every piece of every toy in his room into three mighty piles. The Man put all the upstairs stuff away while Son 1 was in the bath, and he had hysterics.  About as distraught as he gets.  Methinks Son 1 may be finding the idea of a new nursery a bit overwhelming.  His last words as I went through the door after saying goodnight were “Mummy promise you won’t put my school stuff downstairs away.”  Oh little one what are you trying to say to us?

1. Helllooooo

2. The Peacock Playground

3.  A beach walk in the evening 

Lordy lordy Son 2 aged 8m had a terrible night, and so did The Man and I.  We have both now been awake since 3am.   Luckily, we can always see the funny side.  Etc etc.  Son 1 aged 3 and a half was finally woken by the miserable wailing at 5am, and decided to get up.  The Man was with Son 2, so up he plodded.  I heard every little but loud step taken up the stairs, then the soft pitter-patter pitter-patter to the bed.  “Mummeee.”  I remained asleep.  “Mummeee”  Zzzzz.  “Mummee, it’s morning.”  Nary a muscle.  Little fingers with over-sharp nails tried to prise my eyes open.  Then: “HEELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”   Which made me laugh so much the game was up. 

The early start wrecked all four of us for the day.  But I had promised Son 1 a trip.  The weather was promising, Granny and Granddad were next door and Wonder Nanny was around to help.   We went to the Peacock Playground - a garden with a cafe and a playground loved by Son 1.  Both boys slept in the car, and both boys woke as soon as we got there.  Son 1 dashed around the playground with Wonder Nanny, I played with both him and Son 2, but then got too fretful about sunshine on little boy skin. Went to the cafe for lunch and sat beside the fountain, which showed up our 3 year age gap at its worst.  Son 2 loved watching the water, Son 1 was a beggar to keep out of it.  He began by eating Son 2’s yoghurt and then went downhill from there.  Granny and Granddad suffered.  Lunch was very hard, even with Wonder Nanny there, but it was a great day out and probably the best venue for G and G out of our repetoire of soft play and child-friendly venues.  One of the peacocks spread its tail and started shimmy-ing at one of the females.  “Sounds like he’s growling at her to get her to go away,” said Granddad.  “I don’t think that’s what he’s got in mind,” I said.     

In the evening we went out to the Beach Cafe - last chance for Granny and Granddad to have a family meal, because I’ll be so busy with a Trade Show at the end of the week.   Son 1 had had a sleep, but was still over-tired and over-wired.  Son 2 had a very good lunch, and a reasonable tea.  I took  my eye off him for a second and then saw him splat splatting on his high chair table with his starfish hand flat in some runny cottage cheese.  Oh, I realised, at the same moment as he threw up again.  At the same moment as the food arrived. After the meal we had to wait 20  minutes for the taxi, so we went for a stroll on the beach.  Son 1 played with the long shadows and the sand, and pretended a big arty piece of driftwood outside the cafe was an eagle.  There were barbecues on the beach, people reading and people swimming in the sea.  It was a lovely evening, and it was just great to be part of that strange post 7pm community of beach people, if only for a few minutes.  Didn’t get Son 1 to bed till way past 8.  I am not expecting great things from him tomorrow.