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.  Blur

2.  Breathless

3.  Bliss

A bit of a grind at The Office. Had to go early because of VIP visitors, and then had two hour presentation at lunchtime.  Non stop.  So, didn’t feel I saw very much of Son 1 aged 3 y 10m or Son 2 aged 10m this morning.  Fed Son 2, got him downstairs, posted another spoonful of food in his mouth every time I whirled past his high chair, and then fled upstairs to get ready as soon as I’d packed his lunch.  Then out of the house, waving goodbye to The Man, standing there holding Son 2, and Son 1 running to the gate in his socks to wave back.

Finally after all the action, I was tearing round The Big Town gathering stuff for The Man’s birthday. He rang.  He was busy.  Could I get the boys from nursery.  Er.. no.  Still too much to do left back at The Office.  Fine.  He will have to get them, wait till I’m home and then go back to work.  Then Glamorous 22 year old Graduate (not a student any more) rang. At work in The Happening Town, but feeling unwell.  Came to The Big Town on the bus, and I gave her a lift back to The Town.  Which made me very late indeed.

Feeding Son 2, my mind in a fizzy fit over everything that happened today, and everything I still had to do.  And then… little eyelashes on a pale cheek, the feel of a fat little arm against mine… the size of a little fist compared with my hand, a stroke of the soft downey head… and very slowly I came back to the present.  I always (try to) feed Son 2 to sleep, and then I stand up, and his head flops over to my right shoulder; his sign that he’s ready to go in his cot.  Some nights I can’t get away from him, but tonight he was exhausted after nursery and was comatose when I pulled the cot side up.  And went in to Son 1 for a round of Pumpkin Soup.  The Best You Ever Tasted.