1.  Two Faces

2.  The Lone Ranger

3.  Comedy Tragedy

Best Friend’s birthday party today. We had a present and a card but no wrapping paper. So. The plan was to go into The Town with Granny and Grandad, where we would also buy a scarey mask for Son 1 aged 5y 1m, to change one of his Dressing Up outfits into a Ghost Pirate for Halloween.  Before G and G arrived, the children were Very Hard Work. They did well in playing on their own in the lounge for about an hour while I tidied and did washing and hoovered. But then Son 2 got tired, they started bickering, Son 2 started squealing and needing me… Son 1 went nuts because I was trying to be sympathetic to Son 2… and I Could Have Done Better.  G and G arrived and they were still hard work. We pushed them both into the Town, Son 2 in the Big Pram in the hope he’d sleep, Son 1 in the buggy because he refused to walk.  It was Perfect. 

I got Son 1 a Marks mask (say that fast a few times each day and keep your jawline trim.)  We pushed them down to The Square for coffee to make Son 2 fall asleep.  Son 1 was still wrecked with tiredness, and alternated between being a cuddly on-the-knee want-my-mummy’s boy and a sulky nightmare. He had a hot chocolate and an apple muffin.  Son 2 woke up. I pushed him round the Square and The Museum, remembering the scores of times we did it when I was on maternity leave, hoping he’d fall asleep. He never did. ”Do you want to go back to sleep, or go back to the cafe?” I asked. “Hot choc choc,” he said.  Son 1 fed him bits of apple muffin, and then they both sipped through straws to share Son 1’s chocolate.   They looked adorable, and Granny and Grandad both took pics.  We went back. I stopped in the fishmonger’s to get some sea bass for tea with Nanna tomorrow.  I caught up Granny and Son 1 further on. “Son 1, where’s your mask?”  He hyperventilated. “Sorry Mummy.”  I power walked the 3/4 of a mile back to the cafe, where it was still in the booth we sat in. And then, worried about Son 2, I walked home with it as fast as I could.

Grandad decided he was going to rest, but Granny came to the party with us. Son 1 wore Captain Hook and carried his new mask.  Son 2 wore the same bat costume he had last year when he was 13m: http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/10/26/four-candles/ Aged 1 - 2. It’s supposed to last. Son 1 and Best Friend ran round together the whole time.  I was up, down, inside, outside, following Son 2.  A mother was there I hadn’t seen for while. She had an appalling time last year, (see http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/04/12/the-lesson/) and I still ache in sympathy for her.  We chatted; she’s brilliant. I hope.   After the cake and candles, Son 1, Best Friend and Son 2 picked blackberries at the bottom of the playground. ”Pop” went a balloon.  Back home we said goodbye to Granny and Grandad who are leaving early in the morning.  Son 2 accidentally punched me in the eye so hard he knocked my contact lens out. “Bring me a mirror!” I begged Son 1, who brought me my Chanel compact, broke it into bits, dropped the powder on the floor and then rubbed it all into the lino.  At least I found the contact lens.

1.  Saying Goodbye

2.  Introductions

3.  Substitutions

I dropped my contact lens when I was getting up. “I’ll find it,” called Son 1 aged 4y 11m from bed, remembering how last time he got himself a Scooby Doo DVD for finding it. The Man found it, but didn’t admit it, giving Son 1 a clue instead. He came down the stairs, triumphant. ”I want a present now. From your secret present pile.” I gave him a Ben 10 pencil set I’d bought for his birthday.  The Man took him away to school and Son 2 aged 23m and I were left alone in the house.  Bereft.  For four and a half years I’ve worked flat out so they’re never apart from me for longer than two days. And now Son 1 will be gone five days at a time. Pang pang pang.  Son 2 didn’t care, he discarded the Tarzan DVD and put The Wiggles on.  And complained when I stopped it on the second time through so that we could go out.  

We went to the Beach By The Garden.  I took the Big Pram.  Before Son 2, I used to push the Big Pram everywhere. I covered miles and miles.  Son 2 fell asleep.  As I strode through coastal avenues I wondered whether I now had the chance to go for long walks on sunny Wednesdays for the next three years.  At the beach, each Wednesday Mum had only one boy. We last each had only one boy in December 2005.    It was very different.  Son 2 instantly expanded to fit the space alloted him: to the sea for water, climbing up me to balance on my shoulders, sitting with me, digging with me. At one point, as I tried again to loll back on the beach mat, drink black coffee from my flask and chat to the other mums, I considered saying: “Play by yourself, what do you think I am, your Nanny?”  He is of course designed to be irresistable.  I changed into my costume and swam in the sea. I turned round to look back and he had followed me down the sand, towing the beach mat, a Wednesday Mum completing the parade.  He had no intention of letting me go out swimming again, so we sat in the sea together, being slapped out by every seventh wave. “Again, again,” he chortled. 

We picked up Son 1, came back, they watched a bit of telly and I gave them an M and S ready meal spag bol for tea. Son 2 was weeping with misery over Son 1’s Ben 10 stationery kit. Son 1 loves it so much he won’t take anything  out of the box; Son 2 just wants to finger everything. Genuine, deep misery.  “Would you like one for your birthday?” “Yes peez.”  Good job I have the £3 Wall-E from TK MAxx, ready and raring to go.  I put Son 2 to bed. The Man and Son 1 wrapped his presents. Including Wall E.  The Man went out drinking. I came downstairs. On the phone was a message from the entertainer booked for the joint party a week on Saturday. ”Human Error. Mix Up.  Two shows booked for Saturday afternoon. Ours will have to change times. Sorry about short notice, he’s been leaving messaged on the wrong number. He’ll ring everyone. Not to worry.”  i left a message on his answerphone which said: “Sling Yer Hook, we’ll get someone else.”  Then I rang Wonder Nanny Crisis Management Services.  She suggested a person, and gave me a number. The Person can do the party. Hooray.

1.  Lost And Found

2.  Delicious

3.  Two Little Monkeys Bouncing On The Bed

Very Tired Indeed.   Grumped out of bed this morning, cold-ridden, knackered, children chatting with The Man downstairs.  Ran tap, put contact lenses in.  Pulled out plug.  Shut one eye.  Opened it.  Shut the other eye.   Opened it.  Something not right.  One lens missing.  I checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, my nightie, the floor.  I froze.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m called me.  “Get Daddy,” I called back.  “He’s downstairs!” “Tell him I need him!”  The Man tramped up, grumpling.  He’d left Son 2 aged 16m in the kitchen, on his own,  three flights down.  He tramped down again.  And tramped up again,  grumbling loudly, carrying Son 2.  He checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, me, the floor.  He took the sink to bits.  I was still motionless.  No spares. How-much-are-contact-lenses/how-long-will-a-new-one-take/when-the-hell-will-I-be-able-to-get-a-new-one/how-will-I-see/how-will-I-work/how-will-I-drive.  “Found it!” chirped Son 1 cheerfully, diving into the corner.   By George he’d Got It.  He wins a Scooby Do Pirate Dvd.  I clapped him.  And dropped the lens again.  The Man grumbled murderously.

A late afternoon appointment in The Town, so I picked Son 1 up early-ish.  The children  were watching Tom and Jerry. When we went to get his coat there was a basin of apple chunks, and lots of little plastic plates and beakers arranged round tables.  “Were you about to have a snack?” “Yes.  A biscuit.”  “Why don’t you ask if you can have one in the car?” “You ask.”  I did.  The Assistant then produced a large plate of fairy cakes, topped with more icing than cake.  Son 1 helped himself.  In the car he told me about his snacks.  “We have banana and orange and apple and sometimes for a special treat mango. ” A pause.  ”This cake is delicious.”

At home Son 2 ignored me for the first 10 minutes and then wouldn’t let me go.  He was exhausted, so I sat him on the bed and started his books.  Son 1 came and bounced on the bed.   “You can be with us if you sit still and keep quiet.”  He sat quietly next to us.  Son 2 climbed over me and plopped his head between the pillows.  Then he lay on top of Son 1.  Son 1 giggled.  He piled pillows on  top of Son 2.  Son 2 giggled.  End of reading.  Cuddling, squashing, laughing, pushing.  Son 2 stood up and bounced.  Uncontrolled delight from Son 1.  He was carried off to the bath by The Man.  Son 2 carried on bouncing.  He wouldn’t go back to his books, and wriggled off to the bathroom. A cry rang out from Son 1: “We just want to bounce!”