1.  How Many Independent Superwomen Does It Take To Change A Light Bulb?

2.  Leftovers

3.  Blue Glass

Just one.  Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah.  Get me.  The light over the dining table has been annoying me. As the years roll on, it’s become harder and harder to read my paper.  Poor light of course, not fading sight.  And then last night, on the first evening of The Man’s two-week absence, the bulb went.  Complicated.  Standing on table to dismantle overhead light fitting.  Staring at bulb the size of a motorbike headlight and wondering whether it comes apart any more.  Getting new one while carrying Son 2 aged 19m in my arms.   Requiring an old man in B and Q to go up a cherry picker to hunt along the Top Shelf.  Climbing up on table again.  Slotting, twisting, bodging, clicking.  And now it is Bright And Beautiful.  And I am Very Clever Indeed.  Yes I know to the casual observer this is just a lightbulb.  But to me, it’s more important than that.  It’s a Start.  

We took Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 19m to an Old Friend’s.  She has three sons, one a week older than Son 1, a three year old, and a four month old.  The elder three boys went instantly feral, and ran in and out of the large house and garden.  I went to investigate two huge patches of feathers spread underneath some trees.   Clearly a fox had taken a pigeon.  I was looking for blood, bones or giblets - anything that small boys shouldn’t really be seeing.  Nothing at all left but the feathers.   I took the rest of Sunday’s beef, and it was added to the lunch menu of roasted quail and freshly-baked bread.  At least the Mother said it was quail.  Could have been pigeon I suppose.   Our adult friends ate the quail and the beef. I ate the bread.  The boys ate Quavers and pizza.

At home Son 1 watched a DVD while Son 2 clung.  Wonder Nanny did tea.  I put the boys to bed, spoke to Younger Sister on the phone, and sorted out the recycling and bins. Then I did a bit of tidying.  My new mantra is: Eat A Bit Less; Spend a Bit Less; Tidy Up One Thing, Throw One Thing Out.  A Little And Often.  So, I was putting away the vases which loiter by our sink, which don’t really have a home because they’re big and fragile and need looking after properly.  And I broke my big blue one, which was my favourite.  And sliced my finger open on the broken glass.  There are still of course, Good Things.  First, it’s Recycling Day tomorrow, I can give it to the men on the wagon and ask them to sort it out. And Second, I’ve now proved that tidying up is dangerous.  I’d better leave it till The Man gets back.

1.  Action Man

2.  Crikey

3.  She Can’t Fly But I’m Telling You…

0605.  Son 2 aged 18m.  The usual. Downstairs for snacks and drinks.   Son 2 stopped off in the lounge.  Doing his little jig.  Over to the shelf with the DVDs on. Pointing. “Mama.”  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s put The Wiggles on.”   In the kitchen he disappeared out the back by the washing machine.  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s go outside.”   Back upstairs The Man had a shower and first Son 1 aged 4y 6m, and then Son 2, got in and joined him.  And then they were back in the lounge. Both boys played with The Wooden Railway and I put The Wiggles on for Son 2. 

The boys went to the Aquarium today with Wonder Nanny, her Nanny friend, and the two little boys she looks after.  They went around twice.  They touched rays’ eggs and lobsters.  They saw the giant octopus out of its tank.  Son 2 loved it.  I came in just as the boys were finishing their tea. Son 1 acted out the giant octopus.  Son 2 tried to Go Outside.  “Can we play Pirate Snakes And Ladders now?” Son 1 asked Wonder Nanny.  We looked blank. “On top of my wardrobe.” Son 1 said helpfully.  “Where did we get Pirate Snakes and Ladders?” I asked. “When I was four.  From Best Friend.” “Have we played with it since then?” “Not for a long long time.”  I went up to the big bedroom and burrowed in the eave.  Son 1 did indeed get some presents for his birthday (and for Christmas) which we put away almost as soon as they were unwraped because he had so many.  He’d seen the Snakes and Ladder set in the Aquarium shop, and remembered it from six months back.   Crikey.

Son 2 howling with temper and tiredness at bedtime, so I picked digger books to make him feel better.  “Di Di Di Di” he now says when he sees the digger page.  “dum dum dum” for the dump trucks.  The words are coming through.  His bye bye is strange - a perfectly formed adult phrase delivered in an adult tone.  I will do another list of words.  I am still putting my head right into his cot to help send him off to sleep.  He has started slinging his arms round my neck, grabbing my hair and pulling me close.  I don’t see enough of him.  wednesday tomorrow, which is a Good Thing. And I got out for a run, which is another.

1.  Where Do The Children Play?

2.  The First Cut

3.  Hard Headed Women

Went down to The Museum with The Wednesday Friends.  We had a full house, thanks to an Inset Day, so the Eldest Boy, in full time school aged 4y 7m could come.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m wore his Captain Hook outfit.  Son 2 aged 17m just wanted to walk and walk.  3 4 year olds, a 3 year old and a 2 year old played, clung to mothers, fell out, fell over…. and the little toddler just toddled.  Out towards the windows.  Down the slopes to the lower floors.  Out to the lifts.  Up the stairs.  And, back down in The Square, off alongside The Museum to where The Man had dropped us all off.  Toddle toddle toddle.   At one point I had Son 1 snuggled up in The Big Pram and Son 2 on the reins.   Son 1 has always stayed close to heel.  For Son 2, There’s Such A Lot Of World To See.

On the way back we stopped in at the Hairdresser’s to see if they could give Son 1 a long overdue trim.  He is now too big for the little cars in front of the DVDs.  Pang.  Where did that go?  He sat on a special older child’s chair, watching Ratatouille, a Gold-Medal winning Pout on his face.  I chatted to the other hairdressers.  We decided they should trim Son 2’s fringe.  We sat him in the car.  He laughed and laughed at the joke.  When the scissors came near his head, he batted them away and tried to grab the hand wielding them.  Then he tried standing up, even though he was belted in.  Then he wanted to get down.  Then he wanted to get into the other car.  I caught his baby hair, and the salon owner put it in a money bag for me.  Son 1 gathered up two cupped handfuls of his hair from the floor and presented it to me.  I needed his hairdresser to tell me: “I think he wants you to keep his as well.”   We gazed in the nearby jeweller’s shop at the lockets in the window.   “Daddy will have to buy me one of those to keep your hair in,” I told Son 1.  “And I need one for my treasure chest,” he said.

Half price food at a local pizza place, so the two other Wednesday mums and I went out for a meal.  We discussed children and men, the days before we had our families,  childhoods, people we know and food and faddy eating.  And had a very nice time.

1.   Shouting Out

2.   Listening Up

3.   Quietening Down

So Son 1 aged 4y 4m had permission to creep in bed with Mummy and Daddy if he woke in the night.  He woke in the night and screamed The Terrace down.  Son 2 aged 16m woke and went into air-raid siren mode.  It was 3am.  I am now finding it difficult to set a good example of restraint under stress.  But looking on the bright side, when you’ve already decided your strategy is Giving Up, at least you don’t have to waste time Teaching Them To Sleep Independently (The Greatest Gift A Parent Can Give.)  I went into bed with Son 2 while The Man  took Son 1. 

Getting to  Son 1 before the After School Club closed was a Good Thing.  One of those “If the road is clear, if the clock is right, if nothing happens, if I can park” journeys.  I got there with about 4 minutes to spare, and Son 1 shone a smile at me and ran to find his things.  On the way back we listened to Peter Pan.  It was dark, Son 1 was silent, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.  Back in street lit territory and I snatched a glance in the mirror.  Son 1 was sitting forward in his car seat, hands on his knees, leaning forward to listen, riveted.  We got to the house just as the Lost Boys shot Wendy. 

We were late back, and Son 2 was already upstairs with The Man.  We went up and obliterated The Man’s attempts to follow our routine.  Son 2 laughed, tottered, held out his arms, ran after Son 1, ran away from Son 1… The Man took Son 1 downstairs for tea.  Son 2 and I read books, and then I put him in the bath.  He’s such a poppet.  He’s just started shaking his head and nodding his head, only he does little, fast to-and-fro movements like he’s shaking water out of his ears.  I put him in the cot, did my singing and counting down and left him.  Not only did he lie down without trying to clamber out of the cot, but he also cried for less than 5 minutes after I’d gone.  A Good Thing.

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.