1.  Losing My Religion

2.  Shiny Happy People

3.  Everybody Hurts

I’ve just read a Sunday supplement piece about a businesswoman who says her spare time is spent “relaxing with the children.”  A dazzling light has broken through the heavens and rays are streaming down.  I think relaxing with the children would solve my entire life.  My spare time is spent cleaning up after the children, nagging the children, cooking for the children, refereeing the children, yelling at the children and hoping and hoping they’ll fall asleep so I can sit down.  This morning, they would have slept in till 0830, only someone changed the clocks. It has been a very long day indeed. I offered Son 1 aged 5y 1m a trip out, but he wanted to stay in, watch telly and make cakes.  I will Share Time with them, I thought. I sat down. Son 2 aged 2y 1m climbed up on the table with the glass top. “Get down,” I said. “That’s dangerous.” He ignored me. I picked him up and put him on the ground. He climbed up again. “No,” I said. “It’s dangerous.” When he got up for the third time, I went downstairs to the kitchen, Refusing To Pay Attention To His Behaviour. I made fairy cake mix. I mixed yeast for bread-making.   The boys trailed downstairs, pulled chairs up to the worktops and bickered. I struggled with the dough. ”If it’s a bit sticky, add some more flour,” said Annabel K.  It was liquid.  We poured half a packet of bread flour in.  I gave two splodges to Son 2, and 2 to Son 1.  Son 2 ignored them and ate butter from the packet with his fingers. Son 1 tried to make animal shapes like the picture, but just superglued his fingers together.  I put his chair next to the sink so he could wash his hands. Son 2 was up there in a flash.  Rubber gloves, sponges, cups, knives and tubs were all flung in.  I took him upstairs and he screamed and squirmed in protest.

We watched “Big.”  Many many years ago, The Man and I were Tom Hanks fans. Way before Philadelphia. Way before his films got meaty and meaningful.  “Big” was always a favourite, and I’d bought the DVD cheap and never watched it.  I told Son 1 the story outline. “A boy wishes he was Big, and his wish comes true.” The film started. Son 1 got his first sight of Josh, aged 12. ”He’s already Big,”  he said, giving a little window into his world which has stayed with me all day. He lived the story: ”Can he change back?” every five minutes till I put him out of his misery. At the salient point: “Is he going to stay Big?”  And “Why doesn’t she make a wish too?” as Josh’s girlfriend runs after him.  “What would you wish for if you found that machine?” I asked. “I would wish for every day to be my birthday.”

Spaghetti hoops and home made bread rolls for lunch. They ate the spaghetti hoops. Nanna came round and we iced the fairy cakes.  I gave the boys dolly mixtures - a gift from Nanna last time - to use as decorations.  Very few made it on to the cakes. They iced and they drew, oblivous to the sprinkles stuck to their faces like multi-coloured five-day stubble. They ate cakes for pudding after tea, and were high as kites when I took them upstairs for bed.  I bathed Son 1, got him in his pyjamas and cleaned his teeth. I bathed Son 2, got him out of the bath and he hid under the towel to play “boo,” like normal. He came out, giggling, burped, and then threw up all over me, getting my hair, ear, arm and trousers. It was fish for tea, and it stunk like seal vomit. “Clear it up, it’s horrible,” said Son 1. I gathered up soiled towels and clothes, showered, and changed into my pyjamas. There was a loud thump from the bedroom. Son 2 had tipped a Christmas Cactus over on the carpet, breaking the plant and scattering compost and plants over the floor. I cleared that up as well.

1.    Infection

2.    Confection

3.    Ingestion

I have a stinking cold, and there is no hope that Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 23m won’t get it. Son 1 was in bed with me last night, his hands seeking my eyebrows and eyelashes, via my nose and mouth.  Son 2 spends a great deal of time with his fingers up his own nostrils, and also trying to get them up mine.  So although I’ve spent the day trying to Catch It Bin It and Kill It, I have a nasty feeling that next week, when I will be back at work after my holiday, when Son 1 starts reception and when it will all be a bit tense and fraught… I will have two littl’uns feeling awful. Never Mind.  Being Positive. I’ve had a massive stretch of time with neither of them being ill. 

We iced the cakes.  Son 1 and Son 2 on their chairs.  The liquorice allsorts, jelly sweets and sugar letters on the chopping boards.  They stuffed their faces. And spat out the liquorice.  I made icing - first time, ta da! - and they drew on it with writing pens, scattered sprinkles, and stuck sweets on. We had nine cakes, and they looked great.  “Was this as much fun as you thought it would be?” I asked Son 1. “Yes.  Can we do it again?”  Yes. But we will swap our liquorice allsorts for dolly mixtures next time. 

We went to Best Friend’s house for lunch. The whole Wednesday gang was there.  Five year old - who we’ve hardly seen this year since he started school in January, his little brother aged 3 and a half… Best Friend aged nearly 5 and his little brother who’s just three, and Son 1 and Son 2. The five elder boys formed a wolf pack. Son 2 decided to stay with me. The two younger brothers were spat out. There was screeching, strutting, chasing, shoving.  Best Friend accidentally head-butted one Wednesday Mum so hard her nose bled. Son 2 kept getting into various beds, making me think he’s already got The Bug. Five Year Old seemed incredibly grown up.   I have such a clear mental picture of him at 17 weeks old, Son 1 at 9 weeks old, Best Friend at 5 weeks old, lying on pillows at Breastfeeding Group.  Breastfed boys, organic and sugar-free in their early diets.  They polished off the fairy cakes in seconds flat.