1.  Like A Duck To Water

2.  Proud As A Peacock

3.  Eggs

4am. Son 2 aged 19m woke screaming.  I went down and got him back to sleep in the double bed. And went back upstairs to read Two Lives.  He woke again. I went down again. It’s His Teeth.  Fast Forward. The Hotel Pool.  Son 1 aged 4y 6m wanted to go the Hotel Pool because he wants to go swimming with Son 2.  The Man won’t go with us, and you need two adults for two children at the Town Pool.  Not at the Hotel.  Son 1 had the noodle, Son 2 was in foam armbands and a swimming costume wetsuit.  We played in the baby pool, we splashed in the fountains. We played Humpty Dumpty.  Son 2: (pointing) Dump! Dump!” We swam. Son 2 can float a bit.  Son 1can push and glide, do dolphin dives and do star, pencil and frog floats.   Only not in the Hotel Pool, which is four foot deep all the way through.  They both worked incredibly hard.

After, we drove over to the Farm Butcher to get a joint for tomorrow’s lunch. Son 2 passed out in the Hotel car park.    He woke up when we stopped the car at the Farm Butcher.   Peacocks wandered around the car park.  As we all watched, a male spread its tail, shaking and shimmering at an unconcerned female idly pecking by.  It was fantastic.  Amazing moving colours, brilliant blues and emerald and lime greens.  In the shop, at the back, there were scores of peacock feathers sticking out of a row of about 10 vases.  “Let’s buy one,” said Son 1. “I don’t think they’re for sale,” I said.  “Ask the gent,” he said.  I did.  It is apparently bad luck to take a peacock tail feather outside.  You can take them in to a building, but not outside again.   Many people have asked for a peacock feather, but the Butcher is superstitious.  The Butcher himself went out to look for new one.  It was left outside by the door for Son 1, who was truly delighted with it.  Back home, the feather has not come into the house. 

We went to Nanna’s for tea.  Nanna always comes to us.  It was easier. But after a particularly difficult teatime, we decided to try every other Saturday at her house.  I dropped off Lightning McQueen buckets for her to use in an egg hunt.  We arrived. The boys took their buckets and went into the garden.  Son 1 found one egg and started eating. Son 2 found one, I peeled it halfway and he started eating.  Son 1, squealing, found marshmallows and more chocolate.  Son 2 found a Creme Egg.  “Ur Ur,” he said, having bitten through the foil to eat it, the other egg still in a hand.  I removed the foil from his mouth.  Nanna has a tiny ancient bird pond full of dark green water.  Son 2 went for it.  So did Son 1.  Nanna gave them tubs.  They scooped and poured.  Within 10  minutes Son 1 had soaked his clothes and was stripped naked. Son 2 was down to his vest. It was freezing, the skies charcoal. Upstairs was a vintage tin bath which Nanna used to bathe us in, 40 years ago.  I put a kettle of boiling water in it, added cold, and put it in the garden.  The boys both went for it, and, spotting it as the only available outside warmth, wouldn’t come out. The Man brought out new clothes, and we had tea.  Nanna had bought oven chips. “They’re not as nice as I thought they would be,” said Son 1 casually.   Our chips start life as potatoes, cut into chips, blasted  in the microwave for five minutes, dried and then roasted off for 20 minutes in olive oil in the oven.   ”Delicious, yum, yum,” says Son 1. Now all we need to do is get his manners as refined as his palate.

1.  Words

2.  Pictures

3.  Action

I woke at 4am and couldn’t go back to sleep.  At 5am I went downstairs with Vikram Seth’s Two Lives.  A Wednesday Mother is running her book club this month and we are all reading it so we can go along.  A Suitable Boy defeated me.  I can’t remember why, especially as I’m really enjoying this one.  And I’m usually good at persevering.  I think the only other one I abandoned, bored, baffled and bewildered, was Ulysses.  One miserable summer when I decided I would only read mind-enriching work.  I escaped into  Harlan Coben and wouldn’t come out for months afterwards.   The Man came down at 0530, and then decided he’d have another go at going back to sleep.  And next thing I heard from upstairs was the shower running. 

Son 1 aged 4y 6m wet the bed and Son 2 aged 18m did a mighty poo that went through his pyjamas.  The Man showered Son 1 and stripped the bed while I pressure-washed Son 2.  Into the bath together.  Two shiny wet faces, looking up smiling. They’re grrrreat.  Our morning routine destroyed, we ended up in the lounge.  Son 1 was pulling out the train track; Son 2 was pressing the button to make the DVD drawer come out and go back in again.  And removing the Sky card.  And taking the DVDs out and putting them somewhere.  Poor Cars.  We’ve only had it five days and it has been posted somewhere that only Son 2 knows about.

We went to a Family Fun Day at the local secondary school.  Loads of activities, all free.  Son 1 loved it. He skateboarded and ran round with Best Friend.  Son 2 was harder.  I spent a lot of time trying to catch up the others with the Big Pram in a school riddled with stairs. And then packed it up in the car and carried him.  Son 1 was playing on the skateboards, but Son 2 just wanted to run around.  In an area where 10 year olds on BMXs were swooping back and forth between ramps.  He was tired, strong-willed, deeply interested, not old enough and more than I could manage.  We went inside.  Son 1 waited for half an hour for a dinosaur balloon from the Balloon Man. And then we went outside and Son 2 ran around, picking daisies and crunching up fallen leaves.  The sun blazed down.  Son 1 stripped to his pants and played with Best Friend.  His Mother and I finally got to sit on the grass.  Until Son 2 spotted a gap between some classrooms and started his usual bid for freedom.  

I put Son 1 to bed, lying next to him.  And fell asleep.  The Man woke me when he went to bed at 11pm.  I still needed to work… and stopped at 1am.

1.  A Nice Rest

2.  Back To Work

3.  On The Road Again

The Man and I were up before Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 18m.  6am.  He was on his computer.  I was reading Sunday paper magazines.  Son 1 arrived with a “Ta Da!” entrance.  He sat playing with his toy karaoke machine, singing away to the alphabet, counting songs and dances.  After the alphabet he snuck a quick over at me to make sure I was watching.  I had of course made sure that I was.  At 7am we started wondering whether Son 2 was still breathing, so Son 1 helpfully said he’d go upstairs to check.  In we went.  A little form, lying, still, on his tummy, his sleeping bag corkscrewed around him, his breathing deep and quiet. Son 1 and I buried ourselves in the double bed.  He eyebrowed.  “Don’t go to sleep Mummy,” he said, noticing me taking a sneaky opportunity for a Nice Rest and peeling my eyelid up.  In the end Son 2 stirred.  Bleary-eyed. red-faced, round-cheeked, and adorable.

I haven’t been into The Office for eight days, and everything was ok.  A Good Thing. The woman on the Lancome counter at Boots swapped the foundation I’d bought myself for Mother’s Day.  No receipt. But she changed it for one I like better.  Another Good Thing.  I’ve been credit-crunching with some Tesco foundation, and it’s made me look old and exhausted.  At least that’s what I think it is.

Quite late back so didn’t see much of the boys.  They were both in the bath, gorgeous.  Son 2 was militant as soon as he saw me, standing up and trying to get out.   Then he slipped and nearly zoomed under water, panic in his eyes, little hiccup-ing cries.  I scooped him out, wrapped him up in a towel and there-there-d him.   Son 1 instantly dived like a striker in the penalty box.  Again and again.  When they were in bed I went out for a run for the first time for ages.  I didn’t get to three miles because of a hip flexor twinge… but I certainly did a good two.  I got rained on, but it was light, so who cares.

1.  Slumbers

2.  Climbers

3.  Numbers

I bought Son 1 aged 4y 6m two new DVDs.  Tarzan and Cars. Two-for-the-price-of-one at Tesco.  Bribery for behaving at the Trade Fair yesterday.  This morning, for the first time ever, I managed to get Son 2 aged 18m back to sleep after he’d woken up at 6am.  I snugged in bed with him; he snugged in bed with me.  He dozed.  I read somewhere that some children are hyper-stimulated by their mother’s presence in bed, and always counted Son 2 as one of them, lucky me.  But this morning, we did it.  His body relaxed, - he’s usually rigid with tension - his fluffy hair in my face.  Unheard of.   And then Son 1 strode in and switched on the lights: “I want to watch my DVDs.”

He watched. I got ready for work.  I went downstairs.  Tarzan was on.  Son 1 was climbing along the top of the sofa back, hoo-hoo-hoo ing.  Television of course has no influence on children’s behaviour.  On the way to The Trade Show, I passed some sheep in the fields.  A ewe lay on her stomach on the grass.   A lamb stood on the top of her back, sure-footed, walking a few tiny steps forward, and a few tiny steps back.  The ewe didn’t move.  The lamb turned round.  All without watching Tarzan.  

The Trade Show went well.  A lovely day, a lovely location. I was in linen and a black straw hat.  I bought ostrich burgers for The Man.  Back home, the boys were playing with a 3 year old friend who’d come calling.  His mum supervised upstairs while I grabbed a cup of tea and some food.  The boys had  been out to the beach, and were pretty shattered and hyper. Even in bed, Son 1 was still playing for more time before lights out.  Eventually, five books later, he passed out.

1.  I Can See You

2.  Pub Crawl

3.  Sand Dunes

So if Margaret Thatcher got by on three hours sleep a night, why wasn’t she permanently ratty or cold-ridden.  The Big City on Tuesday, 400+ miles round trip, 15 hour day including 8 hours driving.  Round a Wednesday Friend’s house last night; the carriage returned here well after midnight.  I was in with Son 2 aged 18m.  Now the mornings are light, he can see me lying in the double bed.  It doesn’t matter how still I am, how quiet I keep. When he wakes up, I get up.

We drove over to the Sandy Beach. Played Pooh Sticks on the bridge.  Got the tent up.  Sunny, but with a bitter wind, and a cold mist rolling in and out from the sea.  Son 1 aged 4yrs 6m was not on good form.  Not enough Mummy Time apparently.  He played in the sand in his sun suit. I could see from how he was standing that he was frozen, but left it to him to tell me he wanted more clothes.  In my defence, he’d said “no” to every single thing I’d suggested all day long. He pitter-pattered off the sand towards a beachside pub.  “I’m cold. I’m going in that warm cafe.”  I got his parkha on him, and followed him, asking him to come back so he could get dressed.  An out-of-season, barely-open, dim and dark beach bar.  But.  On the plus side.  Loos.  Coffee machines. And a sign saying children mustn’t be left alone on the play equipment.  There wasn’t any play equipment.  But maybe there is in the summer. 

By late afternoon I’d managed to work out that he wanted me, me, me.  So, still carrying Son 2 who was refusing to be put down, I suggested we explored the sand dunes.  “What’s a sand dune?” “You know, like the Crocodile Hunter. ‘Rolling down the sand dunes…’”  Son 1 loved the Sand Hills.  The grass was very scratchy, but he loved climbing through the fenced wire, he loved the little tracks, he loved going up and down.  He rolled, he scrambled, he scrabbled, he climbed. He Could See For Miles.  He wanted to poke in the remnants of illegal campfires. “Please be careful!  There are lots of sharp and dangerous things in sand dunes!” On the way back he told me he’d found treasure and wanted to take it home. ”It’s Not Sharp Or Dangerous.”  It was a brilliant blue hard plastic crescent.  A decorative bead from a bag perhaps.  On the way back Son 1 thumped Son 2 so hard in the back he fell flat on his face in the sand.  And I let him off, because he said he didn’t mean to be so rough, and he didn’t realise Son 2 would fall over.  Then he went and played in the tidal stream in his new flashing trainers.  And after that, there was No Ice Cream.

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.  Rising

2.  Shining

3.  Sinking

The Man slept with Son 2 aged 18m last night.  Son 2 started crying at 5.30am. “Mama.” I went downstairs. “Watch out,” hissed The Man. “Son 1’s in here as well.  I’ll take him upstairs.”  Son 1 aged 4y 5m was staying with Son 2 and Mummy.  I lay in the double bed, with one of them on each arm. They dozed.  A quiet moment of loveliness. The Man shifted position.  Son 2 woke up.  Son 2 was getting up. And so were we.  We made it out of the house on time, leaving The Man with the responsibility of posting the cards for Teenaged Niece’s 18th birthday tomorrow.

I managed to combine my trip to The City with Son 1’s Spring Play.  An hour and a half on the road,  a productive morning, and then haring back.  Within the speed limit of course.   A beautiful morning and afternoon, very pleasant walking down to the Nursery.  Loads of parents sitting near the front.  I picked a pair of chairs at the back, next to Year 4’s cubist collages on the wall.  The Man arrived.  The children filed in and Son 1’s face lit up when he saw us.  “Where’s my brother?” he asked.  Son 1 was of course Talented and Marvellous.  I waved.  He waved back.    All show long.  Even The Man was at it.  A tot of about 20m or so made friends with The Man.  Laid his head on his leg.  patted his tummy, played with his watch and chatted up at him.  The Man was petrified and kept hissing: “Go to your mummy.” Little One wandered off, but tottered back, again and again.  On stage, Son 1 asked “Mummy where’s Son 2?” .The children sang the song about Mummy doing the shopping and the washing and the cooking Because She Loves Us.  I asked Son 1 if he’d sung the verse I’d taught him, where Mummy works full-time and has two degrees.  ”Mummy has two deggees,” he obligingly warbled.  

Son 2 was back home with Wonder Nanny.  We arrived home and he laughed and laughed. This morning he did bah for bath (and ball,) and di di di for Diggers are good at dig dig digging.  Wonder Nanny said he’d been playing with his ambulance, and then stood up and patted his bottom. “Have you done a poo?” she’d asked.  Mad nodding. I think the mad nodding also now comes with an “issss.”  He was tired, and clingy and fretful.  He’s got a horrible cough and a cold.  Just when we’ve got a big weekend planned.  And I’ve got a horrible feeling that Teenaged Niece’s 18th birthday may have been today.

1.  Black Night

2.  Spring Colour

3.  A Rolling Nose

A murderous night.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m again.  Waking screaming for Mummy.  At the fourth time, at 5am, I was not patient, understanding or tolerant.  “Stop making that noise or you will wake Son 2!” I snapped.  Son 2 aged 18m woke, and screamed.  The Man went in with him.  Son 1 went back to sleep.  I went downstairs for coffee and the Sunday papers. 

It was a beautiful day.  Daffodils everywhere I drove.  The Crocuses we planted outside The Office in December are just about over, but still a great splash of colour.   The road near the entrance to Son 1’s nursery is wooded, and there are carpets of yellow primroses, and clumps of daffs.  Bright pink camellias, and fresh green leaves unfurling on a hydrangea.  The birds are singing, the sky was blue.  Son 1 went to Nursery without a coat because we can’t find his blazer.  It was just about warm enough.

After a tortuous weekend of failing to find a Red Nose anywhere, I found a leftover one at The Office.  I picked Son 1 up from Nursery.  There is apparently a school play on Friday afternoon for which he is learning some songs.  And he says I am going to it.  Only I’m supposed to be in The City, 60 miles away on Friday afternoon.    I am still mystified as to where everyone finds out this stuff.  There was a tiny  book of dates-in-the-year given out at the start of term.  This obviously has to be decanted into the calendar when it comes into the house.  I’ll learn. We parked near the house, and  Son 1 clutched his Red Nose as he got out of the car.  He dropped it.  It rolled across the road, and then into the entrance to some sea-level riverside properties opposite.  Son 1 howled.  “My Red Nose!” A passing youth couldn’t help laughing out loud.  The Nose picked up the pace, rolled away down the steep slope to the waterfront and disappeared out of sight.  I put a sobbing Son 1 in the house and went to investigate.  There was a red blob in the road at the bottom of the hill.  There was more comedy potential in it plopping off into the river and drifting out to sea, but I’m glad we saved it.

1.   Fruit

2.   Health Food

3.  Unexpectedly Vegetable

Gadzooks.  Son 2 aged 17m woke us with foghorn blasts at 0430.  “I’ll go,” said The Man.  “No I will,” I said.  “I didn’t see him last night and I miss him.”  I took half an hour getting him back to sleep.  He woke again at 0530 and I got into bed with him.  He wanted food.  I clung to a dopey wish that if I just stuffed him with food he would go back to sleep.  At 6am I took him down to the kitchen, where he ate everything he could see: a plum, a bagel, a banana, grapes.   Son 1 aged 4y 5m came down.  We were up. 

We had a 5th birthday party; one of Son 1’s Old Nursery friends, run by his Old Nursery Nurse.  We’d bought him a Power Ranger.  Son 1 had stood in front of the Ben 10 shelves, fingering each packet, clearly in love.   “We don’t know that Five Year Old likes Ben 10 do we?” I’d said.  “But all Little Boys like Power Rangers.”  Five Year Old opened the door.  He was wearing a Ben 10 outfit.  They played, we went outside and Son 2 had a great time playing with the diggers and building toys.  At lunch, Son 1 ignored the chocolate fingers, pizza, crisps, sandwiches and flapjacks in favour of some long breadsticks and cut up strawberries.  Never happened before.  Later, when I asked him why he hadn’t eaten much he said: “I wasn’t hungry.” I just need to get the hang of doing that and bingo I’m size 12.

I washed 3 cashmere jumpers this afternoon.  This is an Exceedingly Good Thing.  Two have been in the bottom of the linen basket for months.   The boys played making potions in the sand table while The Man watched.  This was also a Good Thing.  He is Obsessive Compulsive… and they were trashing everything.  Son 1 was painting the shed with a Big Paintbrush and water.  Son 2 was mixing plants, mud, stones and twigs with a watering can and then drinking it.  At tea we told Son 1 pudding was yoghurt, because of the huge slice of chocolate cake he’d eaten from his party bag.   “Wonder Nanny lets us have raisins after tea, they’re not too bad for us,” he said hopefully.  “Then she takes us upstairs for books and bath and bed.  And then Mummy comes home.”  He looked at me.  “And sometimes you don’t.”  Cannon ball shaped hole in middle of body.  At bedtime, he was on the bedroom floor looking at a dinosaur book with The Man.  I was lying in his bed, trying to get him to hurry up.  The Man told him how tired I was.   “Put your hand up if you like cucumber,” said Son 1.

1.  Dropping Off

2.  Running Off 

3.  Cooking For Two

0430.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m beside me in the Big Bed.  The Man long gone.  I tried to get back to sleep and got up at 0530.  A lovely drive to Nursery, blue skies, Spring definitely in the air. Daffodils, camellias and primroses growing among the trees along the drive.  Son 1 has a huge grazes all  the way up his nose, on his forehead, on his hand and on his knees.  We had to do two explanations on the way in, so I announced to the class that he’d been doing the Fastest Run In The World down a gravel path only he had on the Wrong Shoes…  Son 1 sat cross-legged, gazed at the teacher and had to be prompted by the other children to wave me goodbye.

PIcking him up, he escaped. Slid out through the door as another set of parents were coming through, pelted into the playground and ran full tilt towards the gate, laughing madly.  “Chase me!” “I can’t chase you, I’m wearing clumpy shoes!”  I chased him.  He hid in a little wicker hidey house they play in.  The boy belonging to the parents who let Son 1 out tore across the playground and into the house.  We just about got them out.  On the way home, Son 1 sang: “I love Mummy.  She does the cleaning, she does the shopping and looks after me.”  “Is that one of your made up songs?”  I asked.  “No. We’re learning it for Mummy’s Day.”  Verse two goes like this: “I love Mummy.  She has two degrees and looks after me when she’s not working 10 hour days.”

After Son 1 and Son 2 aged 17m had gone to bed The Man and I made dinner.  Vegetables, and bacon for him, sesame seeds for me.  And then we sat at the table and it together.  We managed an adult conversation, used up some of our veg box and had a very nice meal.  When we’ve managed to do that more than twice a year we’ll know we’ve cracked it…