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.  The Golden Bell

2.  Birthday Boy

3.  Teddy Bears

4.  Night Skies

Son 2 is 2.  Amazing.  Funny, determined, physical, loving, bright, gorgeous. And incredible that if I hadn’t taken tablets we wouldn’t have him.  Conceived the month after we lost Son 1.5.  I took the advice of a doctor who said: “Well, you could take some time to recover from the miscarriage but you’re 42 and every month counts.” I can still remember a dark December evening, Clomid packet in hand, thinking about C S Lewis: “Make your choice, adventurous stranger;  Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.”   We struck the bell… and What Followed got  a handprint kit, Playmobil fish, fish books, a crocodile, a crab, and of course half a fish tank.

Son 1 aged 4y 11m was beside himself for the present opening. Son 2 loved having Happy Birthday sung to him.  I took Son 1 off to school, in the end having to bribe him with parma violets from next Saturday’s party bags. Back home, Wonder Nanny and I pushed Son 2 in the Big Pram over to the Beach By The Garden. Son 2 fell asleep on the way over, and woke within two minutes of us arriving. I’d pictured a day like Wednesday, but the wind was ferocious, so I hired a windbreak. The sea was mighty, great big surfy breakers crashing up against the high tideline.  Son 2 dug and went to the sea for water - taking me with him each time.  We had lunch from the Beach Shack, and then  I went Swimming In The Sea. I have decided this is now a tradition. Every year I will go Swimming In The Sea on Son 2’s birthday.  I couldn’t swim - the surf was too strong. I just swam into each waves, swam/sprang up over the top of each six footer, and had to turn my back into them so they’d break around me and not wipe me out.  I still got wiped out, and rolled around in the shallows.  When I took my costume off it was full of small stones.  We had ice creams and walked back.

Wonder Nanny and Son 2 went upstairs to watch telly, and then played outside.  I got the food ready for the Birthday Tea.  Not a party of course, that will happen next Saturday.  Cold chicken, cooked yesterday, ham and peanut butter sandwiches, hummous with cucumber, pepper, carrot and breadsticks, hula hoops and cocktail sausages. Nanna arrived. Then Son 1, his face worried through the glass of the front door “Have I missed the party?” Before he’d got to Son 2, one set of Wednesday brothers had arrived, then the other. Then the sole girl, with her big sister who was on her way to Beavers. They all brought Teddies for a Teddy Bear picnic.  The boys sat with their teddies for five seconds, stuffed their faces and then ran off to get all the toys out.  I sent out a plate of jelly tot and smartie mini fairy cakes.  Son 1 and Best friend took handfuls and sat behind The Man’s chair in the lounge stuffing their faces. Son 2’s Godmother arrived with Godbrother and Godsister. “Thank heaven you’re here Godbrother,” I said. “We need a light for the candles.” “I’ve stopped smoking now,” he said. Godbrother will be 14 at the end of this month.  We had a Monkey birthday cake and a singing candle with five others.  It was impossible keeping five bigger boys from blowing them out, but we kept re-lighting them and Son 2 seemed happy with his efforts. The cake vanished. The Man let off Poundland table top fireworks in the flower bed. 

After we all went to the Yacht Club with Nanna and the Parents Of The Girls.  Son 1 and Son 2 played with their golf set. Son 1 cried when he hit his ball into the river.  A scarily competent ten year old got in a dinghy and went and brought it back. We sat on benches outside, watching the boats, drinking and talking and talking and drinking. Jupiter shone large in the darkening sky.  “Look at that lovely star Mummy,” said Son 1. “It’s not a star, it’s a planet.” “How do you know?”  “The stars are small and far up in the sky.  The planets are big and nearer the horizon.”  We came back at nine. It was a Good Day.

1. The Mushroom

2. A New Country

3. Strawberries

“Mummy wake up. I want to paint Nanna’s present.” 0600.  I ignored Son 1 aged 4y 8m. “I want to paint Nanna’s present.  Now.” I didn’t open my eyes. “You’renotsupposedtopaintit,” I mumbled. Itjuststandsinthegardenandchangescolourwiththeweather.” He dropped his full weight on my stomach. “Pack it in! Go away and find Daddy!  Now!”  Nanna’s present is an enormous faux-stone mushroom.  It weighs a tonne, and a colleague carried it from the Trade Show to the car last night. Only when I heaved it into the house did I realise it must have nearly killed him.  The mushroom is in two parts. The stalk, and the cap, which is shaped like a squashed cartoon fireman’s helmet and face.  Son 1 chose it.  It is Very Him.

We kind of planned to take The Boat out on its 2009 maiden voyage, but we didn’t like the forecast. Again. So we drove to the Peacock Playground to meet some Wednesday Friends.  ”And why have we got Nelson in the back?”  asked The Man. He has been away too long.  Son 1, in full Captain Hook.  He chased the Brothers around the playground, and they chased him.  Son 2 aged 20m was Very Tired and very clingy.  A peacock came up to peck for picnic leftovers and Son 2 was terrified.  I crawled through the Big Tunnel with him, three times.  I liked crawling through The Tunnel, just like on Swimming Pool days I like whizzing down the Flume, and at Fairs I like going on Merry-Go-Rounds.  All part of exploring and enjoying this Kiddie Country place that I never even registered for 30 years.

We traipsed round the garden, with Son 2 howling in plank-boy outrage every time we tried to put him in the Big Pram. Son 1 and The Brothers played Pooh Sticks where the path crossed the stream.  Only I don’t remember Pooh and Piglet ripping up the riverbank plants to play.  We moved them on.  We left at 3, and then hared over to see Son 2’s Godmother, who was having Bubbles and Strawberry Scones. Son 1, Son 2 and The Man headed out into the garden, where Son 2 sat on the drainguards and posted pebbles through the grids.   Son 2 gathered fans; Son 1 couldn’t keep away from Son 2’s teenage Godbrother and Godsister.  Back home they ate salmon and new potatoes and carrots.  We were late for teatime again, and the boys were late for bed.  “I love you, darling, I’ll come and see you before I go to bed,” I said, as usual, to Son 1 as I was leaving him.  “I love you Mummy. I’ll come and see you when you’re in bed,” he smiled. “Well make sure you don’t wake me up,” I said.

1.  The Godparents

2.  The Godbrother

3.  The Godfather

Younger Sister is Godmother to Son 1 aged 4y 7m.  Her partner is Godfather to Son 2 aged 19m.  They’ve been having a tough time, because he’s been supporting his 87 year old mother through Difficulties.  He’s worn out, wiped out, whacked and weary.  Stare, stare in the basin, and wonder…  When he was 19m… or 4y 7m… did she ever try and look forty years ahead?  Being Positive, they may be through the worst part. And we’re going up to stay with them at the end of the month.

Son 2’s Godbrother is 13.  He’s been having a tough time.  He is gorgeous, and Spirited.  Son 2’s Godsister, 14,  was going to buy him nicotine patches for Christmas.   The school’s been great, he’s trying really hard, they were all pleased.  Then a Difficulty at the weekend.  And he’s off sick today. Jaysus I remember how horrible it was being 13.  I also remember Godbrother when he was smaller than Son 2. Gone in an eyeblink.  You cannot conquer time.

Son 2’s Other Godfather called this morning.  Just when you think you have produced the last child of your generation… a new little Late Lamb is on the way.  The Other Godfather has, over the past years, come through a very tough time.  The new Godbrother/Godsister is expected later this year. A Very Lucky Baby with very special parents.   We will see them later this month. Life remains a blessing.

1.  Louder Than Words

2.  A Perfect Lunch

3.  Pat And Peter

Three years to the weekend since Son 1 aged 4y 4m was christened.  He was further forward in his speech than Son 1 aged 16m. When the water was splashed on his forehead he said “No, no, no.”   Son 2 can’t do yes and no.  But this morning,  I called across the room: “Son 2, have you done a poo?”  And he looked at me and did his tiny-fast movements nodding thing. He did indeed need a new nappy…

We went shopping in The Big Town.   Son 2 had stayed awake all the way there and was barely conscious. Choice.  Push the pram, have him fall asleep for a very short time, and then have to stop and get him some food Or Else.  Give him lunch at 1145 and let him fall asleep for a longer snooze.  We went to a cafe/bar.  The waitress understood the situation perfectly.  She slapped the children’s lunch order in before taking the rest of our order, and brought out 2 x sausage and chips in minutes. The children behaved impeccably.  The first stress-free family lunch we have had.  We shopped, and called into see Son 2’s Godmother, who isn’t well.  In her lounge was Son 2’s thirteen year old Godbrother, six girls and two boys.  The girls were making tutus for a party.  The Godmother had no idea who any of them were.  But she says at least she knows where Godbrother is.

Back home, the boys played with the Thomas Wooden Railway.  We have a lot of this, and Son 1 has always been a bit ambivalent.  Not many Pirates in Thomas.  But Son 2 loves it, which means Son 1 is also playing with it more often.  I made broccoli in cheese and onion sauce with pasta for tea.  They wolfed it.  Son 2 had fourths.  They got down from the table.  I read the paper and drank wine.  Son 1 came back, perching himself on the chair next to me, and playing with a Postman Pat van, and a plastic Postman Pat and Jess.  “I believe in cats, I believe in cats, I believe in cats.”  I looked up.  “What’s Postman Pat saying to Jess?” “I believe in cats.” “Why?”  “Because Jess has died.”  The pervasive Peter Pan again.  If you say you don’t believe in fairies,  one dies.