1. It’s Raining, It’s Pouring

2. And Bumped His Head

3.  Up In The Morning

Up at a dawn to do some Office work because we wanted to take the children out tonight.  Then Son 1 aged 4y 8m woke up, full of excitement because it’s school sports day.  Less so when he realised he couldn’t wear his shiny new PE kit to school and had to wait.  When I dropped him off it was raining. “Ring at 11 to see if it’s still on,” they said.  I remembered at 1230.  Off. They’re trying again next week.

The Man came into The Big Town for some Business stuff and we had lunch. Very nice to see him.  He collected Son 1, which meant I was let off the usual Friday tear-across-Town to get him in time.  Back home The Town is having a Singing Festival. We thought it would nice to take the boys, listen to some Singing, wine for us, ice cream for them, put them to be late and get a lie in tomorrow morning. Easy.  So we listened to some Singers. Chatted to lots of people we know.  Had a glass of wine. They had orange juice and put money in the charity buckets. Ran around with the other children.  Son 2 aged 21 months climbed up on a plastic chair and held on to the back, just like he does with the ones at home. The heavy ones.  He pushed this one right over and fell, 3+ feet, flat on his face.  And screamed. 

His forehead was bashed in. I gave him Ibuprofen, he calmed down and we packed up and headed home. We put them to bed; we ate a takeaway; we went to bed.  I’ll go in with Son 2, I thought, so I can check he’s ok during the night.  I got in the double bed with him. I looked at his head.  Red and grey and big and bumpy.  I rang the Minor Injuries Unit. No answer. I rang the doctor’s out-of-hours service. Take him to A and E, they said. And so there we were, midnight on Friday/Saturday, me, Son 2, several groups of loud drunks, two very fat women and an old woman with long, dyed-black hair and tons of make up. Waiting Time Four Hours flashed by on a ticker screen.  Swearing. Police. Hospital security. Son 2 wanted to get down on to the floor, but I was sitting by the infection-control MRSA/c.diff noticeboard and didn’t want him to catch anything.  He grizzled. I let him, figuring nothing motivates officialdom like a screeching infant.  The receptionist apologised. She’d reminded the nurse we were here, but there was a difficult patient… After 45 minutes the nurse saw us, and we were put into a children’s waiting room. Son 2 came alive at the trucks, cars, fire engines and diggers. ”Someone’s got a nasty bump,” said an ambulance man, dropping off a baby with croup. A very young, very pretty, smiling doctor appeared. She shone lights in Son 2’s eyes, looked in his ears, watched him play and examined his bump. He was fine, she said, but he clearly had a bad fall and I was right to bring him in. She gave me a list of things to look for, and said keep him quiet and give him Calpol and Neurofen, because he would have a headache. We got home at 0230.

1.  The Girl’s Blouse

2.  The Big Shop

3.  The Bump

I collected my silk shirt from the dry cleaner’s this morning.  This is a Good Thing.  It has been there since the end of May.  They “dispose” of clothes left for three months.  I just haven’t been able to get out of the house on time to drop in on the way to The Office… and when I come back I’m always desperate to get home.  This morning I knew I could do it.  Son 2 aged 11m was up at 0520, after an evening of crying and writhing and then seven hours’ deep sleep. He’d fed by 0615.  Wonder Nanny was coming. And Son 1 aged 3y 11m was watching Watch My Chops and Scooby Do.  I am allowing him to graduate to CBBC.  Because he’s not going to find out about things like hand-held TVs and cool kids in this house.  Anyway.  I got out on time.  With Son 1 crying, and holding onto my leg: “Mummy don’t go.  I’ve got an idea.  My idea is you stay here.”

I did a Big Shop after The Office.  Which was also a Good Thing.  There was stuff I needed to do today that I, yet again, didn’t get round to.   I will focus on my blouse and my Big Shop.  The Man is going away on a Business Trip tomorrow, and is being vague about when he’s back.  So I’ve laid in a pile of jars for Son 2, and some food that (hopefully ) Son 1 and I can make quickly and share.  I spent £80.  But I saved £15 on special offers.  The check out woman said that was the highest saving she’d had all day.  I’m too pleased with that.     I might need to get out more.

Upstairs changing when I got home, and there was a loud, horrible BUMP from down below.  And a gap.  And then WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH.  Poor old Son 2.   Son 1 just never moved.  There was a standing joke among our friends that he walked late because he had no need to go anywhere - his two faithful and adoring servants brought him everything he needed.  That was then.  Now,  every time we think we’ve got him covered, Son 2 speeds up.  He commando-crawled towards the edge of the bed and then skidded off a big book we’d been looking at.  The Man was in charge.  Two-one to me.  (If you don’t count the one where he fell out of his pram on his head  and ended up in hospital overnight because Mummy didn’t strap him in.)