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.

1.  Ingedients

2.  Processing Food

3.  Sweet And Sour

7am.  Son 1 aged 4y 11m got into the Big Bed.  He was freezing.  And doing his mock-crying/mock whining thing. “What’s the matter?” “I don’t want to give our ingredients to Wednesday Mum.”  I was rabid about the loss of the sandals. And told Son 1 there would be no fairy cake making, and that all the ingredients we bought would be given to our Friends.  “We’re not going to. Mummy was probably a bit too cross yesterday. I’m sorry.” ”I’m sorry I lost my shoes.”  “I’m sorry I was so cross. But your feet are very long and thin and it took me a long time and a lot of shops to find some that fit.” “Can we still make our cakes?” “Yes we can.” “I’ll go and get the ingredients.” “From the cupboard?” “No. I hided them.” “Where?” “Behind the toilet.” Son 1 and I went downstairs.  Bicarb, sprinkles, jelly sweets, sugar letters, caster sugar, icing sugar, cake wrappers… all wedged on the floor in the cobwebs behind the U bend.    It must have taken him three or four trips. No wonder he was freezing.

We had a group trip into The Town after breakfast, and then came back and started cake-making. Son 1 and Son 2 aged 23m stood on the big chairs.  They were interested in three things: breaking eggs,  pressing the buttons on the food mixer and eating sweets.  Much disappointment when Son 1 realised the sweet stage doesn’t come till you ice them. We mixed. Son 1 broke his egg. “And me!” yelled Son 2. Ah. We only had one egg. Wonder Nanny went down the road in search of another box.   The cakes went in the oven.

We had lunch and then Son 2 and I went for a lie down. Luxury.  I think lying down for a snooze with a little child is one of the great free pleasures in life.  We slept for more than an hour - I’ve got a cold coming and am feeling pretty wrecked. When we went downstairs, Wonder Nanny and Son 1 were peeling crayons. “I’ve been meaning to do this job for ages,” said Wonder Nanny.  I didn’t even realise it needed doing. We went swimming.  The pool was almost empty. Son 1 piled up surf boards to make a surf shop.  Son 2 delighted in the surf boards. He clung baby-like in the deep end, but as soon as he had solid ground under his feet his confidence soared.  He was great.  At bedtime they slept instantly.  Wonder Nanny babysat, and The Man and I went out to the local Thai restaurant. We sat in the window. Some Eastern European men set upon a man walking up the hill directly outside. My view was bloked by the menu in the window, but The Man saw the whole thing. The police arrived. Someone came in and asked if the staff had seen anything. “No no,” said the waiter. “All in kitchen.”  No they weren’t. They watched it all.   I was a Juror.  I made The Man go and see the police to make up.

1.  Peter Pan

2.  Baking Pans 

3.  Panic

Peter Pan was the DVD. Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 23m were playing with the toy pirates. We bought Son 1 a new Captain Hook yesterday. He has got through 2 Disney ones, so now we’re on Toyshop Traditional.  The old Captain Hook fell to pieces.  Son 1had found a Peter-And-The-Children pin badge that I’d bought him. ”I’m a Peter Pan fan, aren’t I?”  Orwell fashion, I have come to love Peter Pan. Ignore the dodgy author and the political incorrectness, and name another children’s classic that’s as brilliant on Motherhood.  The Lost Boys and The Pirates who want Mothers, Wendy who doesn’t want to be a Mother to Peter, Mrs Darling sitting in the empty bedroom, and poor Peter, damaged by a closed window and another little boy asleep in his bed. ”If you find your mothers,” he said darkly, “I hope you will like them.”  I bought my copy new in 1972, price 25p.  And I grew up and had a son.  Who feeds pieces of broken Captain Hook to toy crocodiles. 

 A grey day, with two shattered children. We decided yesterday went askew because we got the meals wrong. We drove the Big Town to do a Big Shop. Son 2 fell asleep in the car, Son 1 was car sick. We went down to the River and parked. The Man and I had coffee, the boys ate peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.  In the supermarket, we bought heaps of cake and biscuit making ingredients. I have a week off, the forecast is not good, and I have much Uber Mother ground to make up. Son 1 longs for me to make a cake.  I find cake tins frankly baffling.  There are the ones with the clock hand things in them, presumably used for Getting Your Cake Out. And the ones that are rings with round circles at the bottom. Presumably also used for Getting Your Cake Out.  Greaseproof paper, baking paper, baking parchment. All for Getting Your Cake Out.  I’m only guessing, but is there sometimes a problem Getting Cakes Out?  But anyway. We can manage muffins. And Biscuits.  And Wonder Nanny will be here. I bet she can Get A Cake Out. 

We did a massive pile of shopping with loads of Sunday afternoon yellow stickers.  Son 1’s shopping treat was a Scooby Doo biscuit making kit. I thought it was going to be a box with biscuits for them to draw on with an icing pen. Oh no. Back home there was an egg and milk involved. I put too much milk and egg in the packet mix and ended up with gloop so sticky it glued my fingers together.  I finally fought my way out of the mixing bowl, and the boys rolled it, cut the Scooby shapes and we put them in the oven.  Son 2 washed green beans for tea.  They had roast lamb… I went for a run.