1.  Warriors

2. Rangers

3. Hunters

Son 2 aged 22m has taken to early morning screaming again.  I have been comatose this week, so The Man has sorted him. This morning was my turn.  Slightly tipsy last night, I crashed in the double bed.  Son 1aged 4y 10m joined me at 4am.  Much eyebrowing.  No sleep.  And then Son 2 started hollering. “Mummeee!”  “Mummeee!” I went in, told him to stop making that noise, put his fan on, kissed him, said night night and left.  He was apoplectic.  He yelled, he shrieked, he roared, he shouted.  We drowsed.  “MUMMEEE!!! MUMMMMEEEE!!!!!”  It stopped, eventually.  A while later it began again, equally angry.  Again, I left him. When I got him up from his cot at 8am he wouldn’t look at me.

A sponsored walk today, with some Office colleagues, in a town 30 miles away.  The sort of event that In Five Years’ Time I could take the children to. This time, I left them at home with The Man.  I set out late and found my way to the start by Sat Nav.   A colleague and I powered around, really pushing the pace. It was pretty punishing; uphill around three and half sides of a square, and then a very short, steep downwards slope towards the finish.  But, brilliant countryside, amazing views, beautiful colours,  and another vast, grey, rolling sky. The rain stayed off and sunbeams made it through several times.    We had a great time.  And then at the end, in the garden of one of the organising fundraisers,  homemade muffins and coffee.  I also got a certificate for finishing. It has been many years since I got a certificate.

I got back late in the afternoon.  The boys were having veg and hummous, a very late lunch, in front of the telly. A friend and her three-year-old came round. Son 1 pogo-d around with excitement. The big boys got the bows and arrows out. “Not in here!” I barked. “Outside!” “And me!” chirruped Son 2.  We chatted on the patio while the boys played.  “We are going to shoot wild pigs,” announced Son 1. And then: “Does anyone want to cook this wild pig?” He mimed holding something. “I’ll cook it,” I said. “Can I have an arrow?” “You don’t need an arrow. We have already shooted it.” “I was going to put the arrow through the middle to roast the pig,” I said. “Then you can have this red one,” said Son 1. “I will go and kill a giraffe. Do you know how you kill a giraffe?  You climb up very high and put a knife up its nose.”   We Need To Talk About Son 1.

1.  Departure point

2.  The Arrival

3.  Destination

I had an Office meeting out in the woolly wilds.  To get there I had to drive through the Village where The Man and I used to live, and round shady country lanes, still icy in the sunlight, leaveless trees silhouetted against the blue sky, rolling fields glowing in the sunshine… All my old running routes.  i ran those roads so often, in so many kinds of weather, that I could almost reach straight back to a morning like today, when only the sound of my feet on the tarmac and a bit of birdsong broke the silence, when I felt cold and warm, alive and envigorated.  An almost senseless network of roads forking, joining, looping and twisting, which I learned by just running along on sunny mornings and choosing left or right randomly.  

A friend living near the venue for the Meeting has just had a 9lb little boy.  The Man and I sorted out baby toys last night.  Pang.  So I stopped off with cards and presents for him and his two brothers. He was gorgeous.  11 days old, soft, floppy, a thatch of black hair, heavenly little hands, a tiny gummy mouth and a little blobby nose.  Used to Son 2 aged 15m’s rigid, solid form, I picked up the newborn and nearly caber-tossed him at the ceiling.  How are they ever that small?  He was lovely, he slept all the time, and my friend is indeed a Very Clever Girl.  At the point where his eldest brother offered me a game of Power Ranger Top Trumps, I left for my meeting.

The plan was, I would get out of The Office a bit early, collect Son 1 aged 4y 3m, go shopping with him in Tesco and solve the problem that at home, there was no food, washing powder, loo rolls or cleaning stuff.  Plans, schmans.  I got out of The Office a Bit Late, picked up Son 1 a Bit Late, got to Tesco Very Late, and then had a bored, tired, hungry and grumpy 4 year old to tow round while I did a mega-shop.  He got: jelly tots, character pasta, a marked-down Christmas biscuit icing kit, a black forest gateau and a box of ice lollies.  He did not get: a Ben 10 top, a Ben 10 chocolate egg (Yup, they’ve put them out already) a comic, a toy or a box of cream cakes.  I’m putting that down as a score draw.  We were back so late that The Man was trying to get Son 2 down for the night.  So we sabotaged that effort.  Son 1 said Goodnight to Son 2.  Son 2 let himself be cuddled, snugged, and let Son 1 stroke his cheek.  “I love you, Son 2, you’re so handsome,” said Son 1.