1.  Sleeping

2.  Smiling

3.  Sluicing

And of course I couldn’t get either of them up this morning. The Man left at 0530 on a Business Trip. I got up, had coffee, had breakfast, emptied dishwasher, hung washing out, put washing on, put boys’ breakfast out, showered, did hair and make up and STILL they weren’t bothering.  Why.  Why at the weekend, when I am gripping my bed like I’m on a 20th-floor ledge, do they make me get up? And then why do they not even hear me in the week? Even Son 2 aged 2, the original I WILL WALK 500 MILES AND I WILL WALK 500 MORE hypercharged baby was comatose.   I got them up, and I got us out.

When I picked Son 1 aged 5 up from school, he burrowed in his bag and produced several proof sheets from the school photos taken last week. Wonder Nanny had taken Son 2 along as well, so there were five of the two of them together.  i have long told Son 1 that if he smiles nicely in official photos, Mummy will buy him a present. The pictures are truly fantastic, and Son 1 knew it.  Crumple of small boy when he realised I didn’t have a present with me.  In my defence, I had said I needed to see the smiles first. We have agreed we will try and get to a joke shop tomorrow to see if they have a magic wand. 

I did them corn on the cob for tea. Served with little sharp skewery things in each end.  Kitchen gadgets I bought in the days when I though we weren’t having children.  Son 2 pulled his out and started shoving one through his teeth. Son 1 played pirates with his. The corn was too hot to eat, so I sliced it off onto their plates. Son 1 stared at the pile in disbelief. “I want it back on,” he wailed.  Upstairs Son 2 was in the bath while I sorted washing and Son 1 spoke to Birthday Boy Godbrother on the phone. “Big Poo!” came the battle cry. We went in. There was a toy turtle floating in the bubbles on the top. But nothing sinister. I put my hand in for the turtle. It wasn’t a turtle.  And my hand went straight through it, a five-fingered macerator which scattered the soft turd down, along and up the sides of the bath.    Son 2 couldn’t have had more toys in the bath if he’d piled up every one he owns in there.  Today’s Top Tip.  In net laundry bags (Lakeland and kitchen shops,) in the washing machine, Quick Wash. ”Big Poo,” said Son 2 again. We put him on the booster loo seat. He performed. Four chocolate buttons each for a poo in the loo.  Keeps the children still and quiet for just long enough to spray and wash the bath out.

1.  Back at the beach

2.  Back at the stove

3. Back and forth

The Old Faithful beach where we have spent most of the last three summers.   Rockpools to prod, rocks to climb, a Cafe selling peppermint tea, and a cliff face between the children and the road.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m had a wonderful time, tearing back and forward.  It took forever to give Son 2 aged 11m his lunch.  Son 1 was right down the other end of the beach… up on the promenade, hassling the Cafe Lady with his Friend Aged 3 and his Friend Aged 4, running in and out of the sea, shaking seaweed around, collecting shells and digging a very big hole indeed.  I took Son 2 to the sea to paddle.  He looked and laughed and laughed and looked.  He loves water.  We had to stop when his jaw started chattering and his lips went blue.

Back home I had two boys asleep at once.  Hooray.  I’ll have a bag of crisps and read the paper.  But I’ll just sort the washing out.  I’ll just put Son 2’s lentils on.  I’ll just do the veg for Son 1 and me to have tortilla for tea.  I’ll just wash some stuff from  the veg box.  I had a cup of tea, but Son 2 woke up after an hour, so I didn’t get my sit down.  But we did have a very nice meal together, the three of us - The Man is on a Business Trip.  Son 1 and I had corn on the cob, straight from the veg box.  Sweet as sugar.  Well, it is sugar, but you know what I mean.  I did a little round of it for Son 2, who liked chipmunking at the corn, but didn’t like gagging on the skin, and so threw it overboard.

The sheer relief when I got back downstairs after the two and a half hours it took to get them to bed is my Third Good Thing.  Jeepers, as Daphne says in Scooby Do.  I bathed them together, and they were lovely.  They splashed each other, poked each other, prodded with legs and arms and elbows, snatched toys back and forth, giggled, threw things out of the bath, threw things into the bath… enchanting.  “I will give myself ten bonus points if I get them to bed without yelling,” I thought, as I gave them my best Madonna-smile.   Nil points.  It was hell. It took about half an hour to get Son 2 drowsy…and then in walked Son 1.  “I’m scared.” He got in the big bed, but couldn’t stay still, or quiet.  So Son 2 thought it was morning.  And then when I gave up trying to get him to sleep, thinking that I’d just leave him so I could at least get one of them off, he ROOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRREDDDD.  It was awful.  He didn’t cry it out of course.  I went  back, several times, and held his little panting body, with his thumping heart and his hot head flopped on my chest.  He loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah.