1.   Cots

2.   Coughs

3.   Cartoons

Son 1 aged 5y 1m in the Big Bed whispered in the dark:  “Is it time to get up?”  “Dunno.Whatdoestheclocksay?”  ”Six… two…five. No!  Six… five.. five… No! Six… two… five…”  “Well which one is it?”  The child cannot tell the time, and he is still a bit wobbly on his fives and twos. But 0625 is achievable, and five to seven is Armageddon. I’d been awake most of the night and couldn’t get my eyes open. ”Six two five. I think.” It was a Good Thing.  I went to the bathroom to put my contact lenses in, and heard Son 2 aged 2y 1m stir. By the time I got downstairs, Son 1 had turned the light on, climbed in the cot and was lying next to Son 2.  “Look Mummy. I got my Son 1,” he said. Son 1 cuddled him, cute, cute, cute. I leant down towards Son 2. “Shall I get you up?” He looked me in the eye. “Go ‘way Mummy.”  ”Let me take this off then,” I reached for his sleeping bag. ”NO!” he screeched. ”Go ‘way Mummy.”  “What about your nappy?  Have you done a poo?” “I all right.” I went downstairs and put the coffee on.

I’ve finished at The Office now until a week on Friday. This is a Good Thing. I’m so tired my eyes are watering,  I’ve still got a rattling cough and my throat hasn’t been back to normal since I lost my voice.  I haven’t taken more than a week off at once since my maternity leave finished.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/03/28/back-to-work/ I really would like a little lie down.

They were excited when I came home, but it was controllable.  They took forever over their jelly, and then span bathtime out.  Son 2 sat happily through five books and then harrassed Son 1 by throwing toys in his bath. Son 1 was in a very complicated narrative game involving Dory, Nemo and  floating sea horses.  I swapped them over - I don’t bath them together because of Son 1’s molluscum - and Son 2 weed in the water with a big smile on his face. And then drank it while I was cleaning Son 2’s teeth.  Not quite as delightful as the moment when, lying on the nappy mat, he stuck his finger up his bum: “I touch my poo” and then stuck it up his nose.  I will see if I can get him to stop doing that before he wants to go out with girls.

1.  Starting Slowly

2.  Finishing Fast

3.  Dropping Marks

Son 2 aged 21m, rattling around downstairs before 7am, while I drank coffee to wake me up and got together drinks and snacks.  I took his night-time nappy off to change it. “Wee wee,” he said. “Do you want to do a wee?” “Yes,” he said, and toddled off to the potty. He sat on it. “No,” he said, getting up.  knowing Son 2 to be a child who can wee on the bathroom carpet whenever he feels like it, I said “Oh go on Son 2, do a wee on the potty and I’ll give you a biscuit.”  Up he sprang, the potty forgotten. “Bisbik.  Bisbik.”  A heat-seeking missile, following me, his course unswerving “Bisbik. Bisbik.”  We haven’t got any, so I went upstairs to hunt in my briefcase, which is where I put the free ones you get sometimes in coffee shops. He burst into tears thinking he wasn’t going to get one. ”Bisbik.”  

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has been in Nursery since a few days before he was six months old.  When I first left him he was a babe in arms, with no hair and huge blue eyes.  Today was his last day in Nursery, a scruffy schoolboy in shorts, falling down socks, floppy hair, and dancing eyes.  He has the summer off and then he’s in school. I feel like I’m on some mad express train racing past these milestones so fast I can hardly see them go.  Surely it’s only a minute since he left the Day Nursery for this one. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/09/01/last-day/ We have Three Things to celebrate now: Son 1 leaving Nursery, Son 1 getting a Good School Report, and Son 1 saving my big leather chair from Son 2 aged 21m (the biro still hasn’t come off.)

Nobody told me you have to give the teachers and teaching assistants presents on the last day of term. It was like a wedding in there. A table set aside for the floral arrangements, carefully wrapped presents and pretty carrier bags. All the little children conveying in their gifts. Except one. We had a card which Son 1 made for Miss Lovely before we set out.  How do people find out this stuff? I’ve spent all week checking and checking again that the other children weren’t going to turn up in their own clothes today… and then they all sneak the present thing in.  I rang Wonder Nanny to beg her to sort it. ”Oh yes, when I was a Nursery Nurse we were always getting presents.”

1.  Good Food

2.  Good News

3.  Good Thing

Lunch With Nanna.  She’d invited us out. Son 1 aged 4y 9m picked Pizza Express. We went along with the idea. Son 1 ate no breakfast or tea on Friday.. and nothing but cake, crisps, chocolate crispies, chews, lollies and biscuits yesterday.  We figured he would probably go for their cheese and tomato pizza and dough balls. Not exactly Annabel Karmel-compliant, but at least a nod to the three major food groups. On the way to The Square we stopped off to get sandals for Son 2 aged 21m.   ”Choos.” He was delighted. He showed them to Nanna as soon as he saw her. Poor Son 1. Clarks could do nothing with his 11E slender feet.   The boys were ok during lunch. Son 1 cleared his plate, but didn’t quite stay sitting at the table, and ate quite a bit of his garlic butter with his fingers. Son 2 climbed out of his highchair (broken strap) three-quarters of the way through.  But considering what they’re capable of, a success. On the way back we saw Glamorous 22 year old Graduate. “Choos,” said Son 2.

And then at 1545 I wheeled them out again to go the Family Service at The Church. Son 1, who likes the crafts,  had decided he wanted to go.   Today we made  bricks and building and drawing houses.  A few more people there than previously.  Son 2 made a brick and a house. Son 1 coloured an orange house with a pink roof.  He then refused to go to the front of the church for the service because he wanted to make a house too. So Son 2 and I did The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock. And then into the Church Hall for tea.  “I made vegetarian cottage pie last time and you didn’t come,” said the chef, doling out sausage and mash and beans for the boys. Sorry, I said.  Son 1, after his lunchtime triumph, ate mash and had seconds of beans. I don’t think the sausages met his standards.    Another mother there had worked with The Man 15 years ago. 15 years ago The Man used his pet name for me in all his conversations.  She still thinks that’s my name, and that’s what she calls me. I wonder when he stopped using it. 

When the boys were in bed I went for a run.  8pm and a warm, close evening with great light.  I’ve never noticed the amount of roses in front gardens along The Terrace before. I’m still running-and-walking while I get back into it, but as usual, I’m very glad I went.  There and back I was dive-bombed by a seagull, clearly protecting a nest or fledgings. And on the final straight, the seagulls were clacking at top volume near The Hotel With The River View.  A small grey chick was perched unsteadily on the sloping slate roof.  I ran on.  A cat sat outside a house on The Terrace, staring at the gulls.  Today’s positive lesson? At least when I make a mistake parenting, no-one tries to eat the children.

1.  Waking Up

2.  Speaking Volumes

3.  Tucking In Tails

Teenaged-style lie-ins this morning, from three out of four of us.  Guess which one was up at 6am defrosting rolls for lunches?  Son 2 aged 20m woke at 0730 during my shower.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m, trespassing in The Big Bed, was motionless throughout. He came round when The Man put the telly on… and got him into his Nursery uniform. Son 2 was lovely during his books.  Staring at the pile, choosing which one he wanted.  Usborne Animal Hide And Seek. Twice. Then Diggers.  He had strawberries and apple rice cakes in his tub. “More,” he demanded when he’d finished his strawberries. I didn’t get up, and he ate the rest of his rice cakes instead.

And me. Boat, bed, bus, bread, bath, book, ball, bounce, banana, blueberry, bye bye, baby. Car, cot, cat, chips, crisps, chocolate. Down, down there, dada, door.  Go, grape, hello. ice cream, ice. juice, Mummy. No, nose. oh-oh, peas, please, phone, roller, roll, round, raisin,  rain, ray, shoe,  shark, Son 1, stick, stuck, sweet, toe, tractor, up,  van, water,yes  Moo, baa, woof, snap snap, quack, hoo hoo, sssss, squawk, oink, clip clop, cluck cluck.  The ones I can remember.  He really is a clever little sausage.

I bought The Man a bag from TK MAx for his Business Trip, but it fell apart, so today I had to take it back. While I waited in the queue I spotted a pack of two How Does A Dinosaur books for £4.  Got to really.  For their birthdays, of course.  In September. After The Office, I had another dash across The Big Town to get to Nursery before it closed.  Son 1 seemed very happy and said he’d had a good day.  He fell asleep in the car on the way back.  Son 2 was on fine form, chortling away when I arrived and refusing to head for his bath.  I read the new books to them.  Son 1 was the only one who noticed it was a bit different to the one we usually do, How Does A Dinosaur Say Good night.  We now have How Does a Dinosaur Tidy His Room, and How Does a Dinosaur Play With His Friends.   I am keeping my eyes peeled for How Does  A Dinosaur Earn Enough Money So He Can Buy His Mummy A House And She Doesn’t Have To Work Again.

1.  Junior Showtime

2.  Long-Standing

3.  Learning To Talk

Days 1 and 2 of The Trade Show.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m and Son 2 aged 20m went with Wonder Nanny yesterday.  They apparently walked round, went on rides, looked at animals (pig and mooing noises from Son 2,) collected stickers, pencils and assorted oddments from stands, had lunch and then went in the Play Tent till I collected them.  Son 2 appeared to have also found a shirt-painting stand.  He was in white linen. I told Wonder Nanny not to worry about the shirt as You Can Get Anything Out Of Linen.  Son 2 was cheerfully testing the theory, with strips and splodges of paint, ice cream and pen all over him.  The children painting in the Play Tent were using washing up bowls to clean their paintbrushes, so there were large bowls of shallow, deeply coloured water perched on kiddies’ chairs.  Son 2 had borrowed a tea cup from a toy box and was using it to scoop out blue water and tip it on the floor in front of him.  Nice.

Son 2 was having a day with Wonder Nanny, and Son 1 was at Nursery today. We got him there on time, which was a Good Thing, and he plopped down, cross-legged, with the other children with nary a glance up at me.  I took a colleague into The Trade Show, and we had a Good Day.  Very busy, great people, saw loads of contacts, walked miles, worked hard, left late. As I was leaving I rang home to tell The Man to start putting the boys to bed without me.  Wonder Nanny answered.  Past her leaving time. ”Isn’t The Man back yet?” “No… I  know he was picking up Son 1, but we’ve not seen them here.”  I rang The Man.  Doing a Big Shop with Son 1. Hadn’t worried about Wonder Nanny and Son 2  because he’d assumed I’d be home.  Oh Dear. 

 Back home, Son 2 hung round my neck, Son 1 screamed and squealed.  “Do you want to go to the Trade Show again tomorrow?” I asked Son 2.  He nodded, made his pig noise, and moo-ed.  He really does understand everything.  His speech bounds onwards: “Up Up Up,” is a new favourite, said mostly with two arms wound round my leg as I try to shake him off so I can get things out the oven. He has recognisable words for bread, toast, butter, cheese, milk, juice, tea, shoes, chair, bath, bubble, bus, book, bear, boat, cat, dog, stop, spot, please, peas, ice cream, chocolate, toes… I must do a proper list one evening. His most used sentence is “And me!”  Which he uses indiscriminately every time I ask Son 1 if he wants something.

1.  Explorer

2.  Miracle Worker  

3.  Communicator

I worked long and late last night.  At midnight I heard coughing from upstairs, then creaking, then little mouse footprints. I peered up into the gloom. “Son 1, I can’t see you up there, it’s too dark. If you’re there, come on down.” A little wraith aged 4y 7m in white pyjamas plopped down the stairs.  I switched the computer off and we went downstairs to make my go-to-bed cup of peppermint tea. He wanted something to eat.  I gave him a yoghurt, and he sat at the dining table, scoffing it. Upstairs I put him in the Big Bed while I got ready for bed.  “I’m going to have a little read before I go to sleep,” I said, getting my book out.  “I want your eyebrow,” he said, his little fingers heading straight for it. I put the light out and fell asleep straight away. No idea what he did.

Son 2 aged 19m’s spots are starting to scab over, and he’s starting to pick them off.  He is using the “boh” sound he does for “Box” for his spots… gestures at his tummy and goes “Boh!”  “Are they sore?” I asked.  He nodded madly.  Poor, poor little cherub. Son 1 and I took out a library book with pictures of leopards, ladybirds, spotted fish, giraffes, peacocks, ocelots, dalmatians etc. It’s called “Lots Of Spots.” Well, we think it’s funny.   Wonder Nanny, who is Practically Perfect,  said “Aqueous Calamine Cream.  Only Superdrug sell it. Best thing for chickenpox.”  Son 2 has been so much better since we started slathering him in it.  His willy and groin area have calmed down a bit, but the spots are still raging.  The third nipple on his chest which started it all off is the size of a 5p.

I sat on the bed reading to Son 2 this morning.  For once, Son 1, upstairs watching cartoon nuclear wars on CITV, didn’t disturb us.  Oh no, spoke too soon.  Plodding down the stairs.   Carrying the phone to me.  The Man says he will be back tomorrow night.  He says his flights are booked. I will believe it when I see it.  Son 1 hadn’t finished with him and took the phone back.  “No more adventures, Daddy, if they’re going to take this long.”

1.  Pool

2   Party 

3.  Playtime

Bloody paddling pool. When I got to bed, well after 12 last night, I thought “At least we can have a lie in tomorrow.”  0615.  Son 2 aged 19m wailing.  I ignored him.  He quietened.  A face appeared in mine. “Son 2’s awake.” “No-he-isn’t.-He-went-backtosleep.” Brightly: “Can we get up so I can look at that paddling pool?”  Son 1 aged 4y 7m and Son 2 pulled it out.  The box is size of a chessboard.  The deflated, folded-up pool is size of a parachute.    The Baby Was Born and could not be shoved back in.  One glance told me I couldn’t blow it up on my own. ”I think we’ll need a pump.  Next Door might have one. We’ll ask when they’re up.”  Son 1, still in his pyjamas, put his shoes on. ”I’ll go and see Next Door.” It wasn’t yet 7am. I blew a couple of inflatable toys up and they played with them.  “When can we put water in it?” “At Nanna’s.  Although you might not be able to go outside when we get there.   The forecast is for very heavy rain.”  “I don’t mind the rain,” said Son 1.

We went to a Nursery Fancy Dress party.  I had a good time and I think the children enjoyed themselves.  Son 1, who’s serene and unselfconscious about fancy dress and wanders round in pirate or Power Ranger gear when there is no occasion at all, refused to wear any of his costumes.  I didn’t question it.   A children’s entertainer, balloons and many many children.  The entertainer had apparently been doing children’s parties for 20 years.  Son 1 and Son 2 sat in for Pass The Parcel.  Son 2 got a lolly.  I could almost hear his brand-new teeth dissolving in the sugar as he crunched.  Their lunch consisted of:  the chocolate icing off the top of several fairy cakes, a chocolate biscuit.  Some iced biscuit rings.  Orange squash.   A dentist mother told me one day wouldn’t hurt, it was when it was spread over many many days that the damage happened.  I spoke to another mother who, it transpired, lives within a mile of us in The Town.   And she has A Girl!  Son 1’s new best friend,  I instantly decided.  As we walked back to the car: “Guess what, Son 1?  X lives very near to us!” “I don’t like X.”  “You probably don’t know her very well.  You can invite her to the house to get to know her better.”  “She’s not my friend.”  “Not yet, but - ” “I don’t like her.” “Why not?” “She’s a Gal.”

We got to Nanna’s via a Wednesday Friend to pick up their electric  pump. I stood outside Nanna’s house in the Arctic wind and lashing rain, pumping up the paddling pool from the cigarette lighter. Son 1 was beside himself with excitement.  They both went outside with it, we added water and stood back.  The sky was black with great heavy clouds rolling across without a break. It was very cold, very wet and very windy.  Son 2 burst into shivering tears and I took him inside.  Nanna had prepare a tea which was waiting in the kitchen.  Son 2 just pointed at it all and demanded to eat.  In the end we moved tea early, and they went back in the paddling pool after.  And then real, heavy, horrible rain came in. “Rain,” said Son 2, as it hammered against the windows. ”Rain.  Rain. Rain.”  After they’d gone to sleep I had to go out to the car in a cold monsoon and gather up the damp, half-deflated paddling pool, and a couple of bags I’d left.  within two trips I was soaked and freezing.  “Rain,” I thought. “Rain, rain, rain.”

1.   Baby School

2.   Last Day Of The Holidays

3.   Two Households

I’m doing longer books with Son 2 aged 19m.  Happy I’m a Hippo has been a big hit, although he has a “sod the story, let’s see that crocodile page again” grabby approach which is not quite sitting sedately, listening to the Voice He Loves Most.   The Snail and the Whale has also been tolerated, his short-attention span countered by the staged arrival of the speed boats and fire engine.  Plenty of potential there for parrot squawks, his latest animal sound.  And open-mouthing for fish. He has a pretty good “updair” for upstairs though, and he also has a clear, but corrupted version of “shark.”  Digger, Dump, roll-roll, dar (for car) and dan (for van.)  Crocodile is still Nap Nap, but, just today “Dile.”  He’s definitely trying. This morning we did Itsy Bitsy House which he loved.  Twice. And again this evening.

I am back at The Office and Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 are Not Happy.  Wonder Nanny being the celestial creature that she is, arranged two mega-activity days for them.  Yesterday they went to a Big Attraction. When Wonder Nanny announced it, Son 1 whooped and gurgled with Clanger-like joy.  Today they went to a garden and met up with some friends. Gals, as Son 1 calls them.  Still not his favourite things, but it sounds like they all had a great time.  I have a glass with a windfall camellia flower,  two brown leaves and a bit of grass in it.  “I brought you some flowers, Mummy.”

I came home to two lively, happy, healthy, gorgeous children.  Son 2 burst into tears and ran away… Son 1 slalomed past me and dived into a carrier containing a toy I’d bought him in TK Maxx.  Son 2 has taken to cuddlng me as part of his bedtime routine.  At a particular place in his ritual, he stops, put his arms round my neck and snugs into me.  They are glorious, joyful, characters who bubble with life, love and laughter.  Everything about them this evening seemed fast and vivid.  Late this afternoon I saw a mother who’s just had devastating news about her beautiful two-year-old’s health.  Unthinkable, unbelievable, unimaginable news.  Someone please tell me how I can help them.  It’s now 11pm, and Son 1 has just woken up, sitting watching me from the darkness at the top of the stairs.  I waved.  “Cuddle,” he said.  I took him up on the offer.

1.  Animals

2.  Fish

3.  Insects

A slow start today, with Son 1 aged 4y 6m watching Cars (found posted between the speakers.)  And Son 2 aged 18m pleading for The Wiggles at every opportunity.  There is a pair of Son 1’s pants sitting on the side waiting to be put away. Son 2 stared at the picture.  “Digger,” he said, clearly. He’s using Bah a lot now. For: Bath, ball, book, boat and sheep.  If I listen very closely, I realise that he’s got far more words than I give him credit for.  He has a word for “toes” which is similar but not quite. And eye. And arm. And nose. And mouth. And hair.  All not quite near enough to be pretty damn close.  But the big things in his life show no sign of moving.  Crocodiles are still “Nap nap.”  Fish are still opens-and-closes-mouth.  Cows, owls and dogs are all variations of “oooo.” But he can do roh roh roh for Road Roller (and Row Row Row Your Boat.) And Dum Dum for dump truck. HIs Bye Bye is beautiful, but he rarely bothers with his Allo any more.  And often there is a hint of Son 1’s name.  Each time I think I hear it, and I ask him to repeat it, and he goes all fey and faraway: “Me?  Speak?  Don’t know how.  Not trying.”

We went to the Garden With a Beach.  With two Wednesday Friends and their parents, and a couple of friends of theirs.  The beach is at the bottom of a long, steep jungle-like garden, all bamboo, pine and gunnera.  There is a lake at the bottom full of rainbow trout, which Son 2 loved.  On the beach I put both boys in their Sunsuits.  Son 1 because within 15 minutes he’d soaked his shoes, tee shirt and vest. And Son 2 because he just aimed himself at the water and nuclear rockets wouldn’t have stayed him from his course…  Son 2 was great. The water was freeeeeeezing.  The beach was tiny stones, hell to walk on. But he didn’t care.   There was moving water. There were sandy stones.  Pig in muck.

Back home, Son 1 slept, Son 2 watched The Wiggles, and I made pizza for tea.  I was late with it, and then we got them to bed late.  Then, after four books, Son 1scratched the back of his head in a way that made me reach for the Nitty Gritty.  Bedroom light full on.  Contact lenses out.  I simply can’t see any more.  I don’t think there was anything living, and he may have a touch of sunburn on his hairline from not wearing a hat today.  Famous Last Words.  Then when I finally poured myself a glass of wine ands switched the computer on… there he was at the top of the stairs. “I can’t sleep.”  Very, very unlike him.  I’ve only just got him back, and normally he’s a head-on-the-pillow and that’s it kind of boy.

1.  The Quick

2.  The Quack

3.  The Quest

Son 2 aged 18m can come down the stairs upright, holding onto the bannister with one hand.  Or, if he is in a hurry, he turns round and lies down on his tummy and slides down at top speed. The Man and I watch in terror, but he gets there, and seems unbothered by friction burns.  Son 1 aged 4 yr 6m has got this far without sliding down the stairs on his tummy.  Today, watching Son 2, off he went. Two boys sliding down, The Man and I yelling at Son 1, who started from behind and looked like he was going to bounce the baby off the mountainside like an avalanche.  He elegantly zoomed past him, Son 2 stopping to watch with a huge, delighted grin on his face.  We are a four-storey house, so three flights of stairs.  Maybe we don’t need the stairgates.  Maybe we need a bungalow.

“Wac, Wac.” Son 2 was going mad, pointing at the table.  “Yes yes,” I said absently. “We’ll just get the drinks and then we’ll go upstairs and read some books.”  “Wac, Wac.” I glanced at the table again. Keys, a comic, an FT. Something had made Son 2 think of ducks.  He was wriggling. He was getting upset.  He was shouting.  “WAC WAC.”  “Come on, up we go. Have a think about which books you want to read.”  He burst into tears and lunged for the table. “WAC! WAC!  WAC!”  Ah.  That would be his library book about tractors then.  On the table.   Silly Mummy. Quacks and Twactors have whole syllables in common and I never noticed.  

The Trade Show season.  The Man and the boys were coming with me, like they did last year. A grim trip, with Son 2 wailing for miles.   But when we pulled into car park next to a field full of sheep he smiled, pointed and said “Baa. Baa.”   It was packed.  An organiser told me they had a waiting list for traders, and loads of businesses sold both days’ stock today and were driving back for more.  We fed the boys first.  I had a mega picnic. They wanted only Hula Hoops and Frubes. Son 2 kept running off to a pond. Son 1 was picking up fallen camellia flowers for me. A free face paint for Son 1.  Spiderman. The best one yet.  I nearly asked if she did tattoos.  The family went off while I worked.  Later, Son 1 told me he’d take me to the North Pole and the South Pole.  Through the crowds he dashed.  A stall of sculptures, including three polar bears on a little plinth. “The North Pole!”  Back to a gatepost with a joke penguin on the top.  The voyage included a short cut  through an ancient rhododendron bush the size of a bus.  Fine for Son 1, less so for me with my pink nubuck pumps.  I went back on the stall, Son 1 sat playing with his comic. Then he ran round and fell over on the gravel. Hit his hands, forehead and knees.  He screamed.  We cured him with ibuprofen and a chocolate pancake.  Ingested, not applied externally.