1.  Rendering Unto Caesar

2.  Why Take Ye Thought For Raiment

3.  Suffer The Little Children

How To Halve Your Shopping Bill.  Walk to Tesco Express, instead of driving to the Superstore. Take a Big Pram, a large partner and two small children.  The grown ups are allowed one basket each. You are limited to what you can put under The Pram or carry home. And you have to race round like it’s a trolley dash because of bored, misbehaving children trying to sneak Halloween sweets into your shopping.    The Man took Son 1 aged 5 to choose a breakfast cereal. They came back with Chocolate Cheerios. “If we get those then we will never get them back on normal Cheerios and that will kill our main snack/emergency meal/blood sugar lift option,” I said, barely looking up from the Mild Chedddar.  Son 1’s face crumpled. “But I said he could choose what we wanted,” said The Man. ”Fine. Get them.  See what happens.” “They’re not Cheerios,” The Man tried. “Look, they’re Wheetabix.”  “Fine. Get them.”  “Well how am I supposed to know? This is the first I know about your new rule.  You should have said something.” “I did. Yesterday. When we were discussing how to get Son 1 to eat breakfast before school, and you said you’d seen Chocolate Cheerios. I said they’ll never eat normal Cheerios again if we get them.” “Oh yeah,” he said.  They trailed off together and came back with a Variety Pack.  So. Half price shopping.  The baguette broke on the way back, and so did the handle of the big box of (special offer) Fairy… but otherwise I feel we saved money, burned calories and even gave up drinking because we couldn’t carry any wine home. Value Was Had.

Granny and Granddad are visiting this week. They turned up with fairy cakes and flapjacks for Son 1 and Son 2 aged 2y 1m.  The boys couldn’t be bothered to leave the toys and telly long enough to go and let them in… but when I said There Is Cake they charged downstairs.  The Man went off on his Business Trip. G and G went off to check in to the Hotel With The River View.  We went upstairs into the Big Bedroom, because I want to move Son 2 out of 9m to 12 m clothes. I want him in 18m to 24m, but I have a nasty feeling that because Son 1 was bigger, he was in spring/summer stuff at that age.    I am The Mother So Efficient She Had Two Same Sex Children At The Same Time Of Year. And they’re different bloody sizes. Have some more cake, Son 2.

The Vicar rang on Friday to ask if we were going to Tea Service this afternoon, so we thought we better had. Granny came too. We did David And Goliath.  The boys made cardboard and silver foil shields. They did ok in the service - legged it during the Lord’s Prayer, but at least they started off still sitting in the pew, and then scoffed their dinosaur shapes, cheesy mash and veg tea. In the bath, Son 1 Sang Hosanna.  I tried to explain the words to him, without committing myself. “You can’t say you don’t believe in God, Mummy, or He’ll die,” Son 1 told me.  Eat your heart out Richard Dawkins, all you need is Peter Pan.   At his christening, well over three years ago, he was given a My First Bible, with child-friendly language and child-friendly illustrations .  Time to break it out, I thought. We did David And Goliath. We did Noah. I left Son 1 looking at it while I put Son 2 to bed. When I came back he’d found pictures of the crucifixion. “What are they doing?” “Seeing how long they can stay up there,” I said, quickly closing it and flicking backwards. Jesus in Gethsemane, being kissed by Judas while Romans stood about with spears and torches. “And what are they doing?” “Going On A Bear Hunt,” I said, putting it away and getting out You Choose. ”Did they catch one?” “I think so.”  Wrong on many levels, I know, but he’s five, it was late, and I am a moral coward.

1.  A Glorious Day

2.  An Excruciating Evening

3.  A Successful Meal

We have been On Holiday. Fantastic, thank you.  Scorching sunshine, lovely villa, beautiful pools. Perfect.  We were with Granny and Granddad, Elegant Aunt and Golfmad Uncle.    Son 1 aged 4y 7m, Son 2 aged 20m and I spent most of each day in the water. The Man dipped in and out, and Granny joined us yesterday.  Son 1 came on leaps and bounds before our eyes.  The boy who wouldn’t put his face in the water where all about him were jumping in, ducking down and diving under can now swim a length of the children’s pool facedown, pick toys sharks up from the bottom and is pretty damn near being able to copy Marvellous Mummy’s handstands.   Son 1 went to Baby Swimming Classes from about 9 weeks old.  Son 2 has never had a swimming lesson.  By the end of the holiday he could float calmly in his armbands and scrabble back to me if I insisted.   But he didn’t really want to.  On one Amazing Morning, I had them both in the pool at 11am. By 12, Son 1 was asleep under a towel on a sun lounger, and Son 2 was crashed out in the MacLaren.  We all had Bloody Marys. I did 20 lengths in the outside pool, watching an azure-winged magpie flitting around.  I then had the whirlpool and indoor pool to myself, and got to blow-dry my hair after swimming for the first time in four-and-a-half years. When I emerged, gleaming and glowing, Son 2 was Up, Cross and Hungry, on The Man’s knee.

We must do it again, we said, we must stay longer. Son 1 found a leaflet about a 2008 sand sculpture competition. “I want to go here. To the land of the sand.” We’ll try in the autumn, we said, we’ll check out flights and prices… And then the trip home.  Son 2 on a plane. Golly, quel beast.  He was bad enough on the way out, but on an afternoon flight on a plane full of tipsy golfers, there was enough cheering, clapping and ambient sound to absorb his wailing.  On an evening flight, after a long, sleepless day he was Satan With The Baffles Out.  Loudest child there by many, many miles.   He kicked seats, he struggled, he roared, he twisted, he wept, he sobbed, he shouted.  For two-and-a-half hours.  It was past funny, past the point where I could look at anyone else and past the point where I wanted anything to do with him.  He quietened down 5 minutes before landing, and hot, red-faced, glazed-eyed and floppy, ignored the bump as the plane came down. Then, again alert, he peered out of the window, pointed outside at the vehicles whizzing past and said: “Bus.”  

Today we opened post, washed clothes and downloaded photos.  Son 2 wanted to go to sleep, so he and I had a heavenly cuddle on the double bed before he passed out.  Little arms around my neck, a  little cheek pressed against mine, soft breath on my lips… who could possibly ever say a bad word to say about him?  Son 1 had five Euros off Granny for a treat, so we went into The Town in search of a comic, a chicken and some fruit.  Nanna came round , looking, sounding and walking much better since they put her on Warfarin.   The Man made Sunday dinner, and the boys ate chicken, broccoli, carrots, potatoes and gravy.  Big relief to see them eating the right stuff. Son 2’s vocabulary now includes: crisps, chips (same ‘kip’ word for both) sweets, ice cream and chocolate.  Much more advanced than Son 1, who didn’t get a grain of sugar from us till he was gone 2.

1.   The Din In The Dark

2.   Sale Rails

3.  The Lunchtime Lull

Oh. What. A. Night.  The Man was already in with Son 2 aged 15m.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m arrived… whenever… clambered over the top of me and plopped in the Big Bed on the other side.  At 3am Son 2 started the loudest screaming fit yet.  Louder, louder, more and more hysterical.  Code for: I WANT MUMMY AND IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD GET HER GET HER GET HER.  It must be an evolutionary thing.  If he makes that noise just because he’s got the wrong parent in bed with him, he’s got to be able to fell bears with a shout under real attack.   I went down.  It took 15 minutes to calm him down; he had so completely lost it.  I slept with him, and he spent the next five hours waking every… whenever… and sobbing his heart out till I soothed him back to sleep.  I planned to get him back into his cot as soon as he went into his deep sleep - he didn’t.  Every time I moved away even an inch he shot out a hand to find me.   I vaguely heard Son 1 and The Man upstairs with the telly, and eventually went up.  It was 0830.  The latest I have slept in a very long time. 

And of course today was the day I wanted to be out of the house at 0830 to get to the Big Town for The Sales.  I skipped the books, skipped the shower, skipped breakfast, skipped dressing children, did my hair, put my make up on and left in 15 minutes.  I called into The Hotel to get Granny’s jumper which needed taking back.  Granny came too.  We did Monsoon - little boy trousers, little boy tops, odds ands ends, we did TK Maxx, we did Jaeger, we did Lakeland.  And we were back within an hour and a half. 

After Son 2’s lunch we packed up the boys and set off for The Square.  It was brutally, bitterly cold, with a gale force Easterly freeze-blasting skin and clothing.  “I’m getting draughted everywhere!” complained Son 1, so we rolled him up in his blanket and sat him in the battered MacLaren.  I tried to  pull the blanket down over his face so he could see.  “Leave it,” he said. “It’s cosy in here.”  By the time we got to The Square we had both boys asleep.  The Man, Granny, Granddad and I had wine, starters, pizzas and coffees while both children slept on.  Never in our Family History have we achieved this.  Granddad paid.  The waitress said they’d box up Son 1’s meal for him.  As we left, they made him a new pizza because his other one had dried out.  When we got home he ate every scrap, including his dough balls.  An honourable mention for PIzza Express.  They didn’t have to do that, but it made a big difference.

1.  Whiteout

2.  Green slime

3.  Red eyes

A murmer from Son 2 aged 15m this morning, and The Man was gone.  I passed out again.  And was woken when a wall of light exploded in my brain.  It burned my eyes and seared my skull like it was bleaching my roots from the inside.  TheMan, I thought fuggily. Itmustbelateandhewantsmeup.  A flutter beside me.  “Mummy here’s a present for you.  I found it. ” Son 1 aged 4y 3m.  I’d left a tub of eyecream under the tree yesterday, because I knew what it was, and because I was busy.  “I’m sorry I opened it.” “That’sallright.Turnthelightoff.”  “I can’t reach the light.”  “You can reach the light. You turned it on.” “I can only reach it to turn it on.  I can’t reach it to turn it off.”

Son 1 had several pirate things for Christmas, including a game in which you fill a plastic skull with slime and have to fish plastic coins out of it.  I checked the list written in haste on a Christmas card.  I didn’t write down who it was from.  That means we can’t thank them.  I put Son 2 to bed, we filled up  the skull and off we went.  Son 1 fished with relish while I checked his coins were the right ones.  I got good at flicking through the ones in the slime to see which ones they were.  The Man lost, but he was the only one with a clean hand at the end.  There was a lot of slime on the FT, and a lot down Son 1’s top.  He won.  Granny and Granddad arrived as I was washing the coins, and declined the offer of a game with our champion.

Son 2 ate leek and potato soup for lunch, which was a Good Thing because he’s eaten nothing but sausages and sweets for the last two days.  Granny stayed in, and Granddad, The Man and I walked the boys down to The Square.  Son 2 was swaddled up in the Big Pram, Son 1 was in his parkha and my big leather gloves.  Son 1 ran and chattered all the way down.  Unfortunately he misunderstood what The Man said we were doing, which was walk down to The Museum and have a coffee in The Square while the children ran about.  Son 1 thought that meant we were going in the Museum.  And it was shut.  He howled and real tears flooded his face.  He rode on The Man’s shoulders on the way back.  The walk did him good - he was asleep before we’d finished his stories tonight.  Son 2 went down well, but has just been up for ages, and The Man’s gone in to sleep with him.  Instant quiet.  It’s got to be teeth.  Those big ‘uns deep in his jaw bone.  The clue is in the way he stands up and gnaws the rail of the cot while he cries indefatigibly for rescue.

1.  Up

2.  Tummy Ache

3.  Mamma Mia

5am and the screams of a child in mortal peril split the night.  “I SPILLED MY DRINK!!!!! MUMMEEE SOB SOB SOB MUMMMMEEEE SOB SOB SOB.”  I sprint downstairs.  There is an outside chance the situation can be saved, but once Son 2 aged 15m is awake, we are all Awake.  And Up.   The bed isn’t wet.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m isn’t wet.  “What happened?” I whisper in the pitch black.  “My drink slid-ed out of my hand.”  “Where’s your cup?”  “On the floor.”  “Well I’ll leave it till we get up.”  I didn’t want the light on.  That would reveal the Christmas stocking.  And we would be Up.  I snugged down on the bed with Son 1.  Every time I thought his breathing was deepening, he asked “Can I get up yet?”  “No, it’s too early.” “Has Santa been?”  “I don’t know, it’s too early.”  “I made myself wake up early to open my presents.”    Snooze.  I could smell the spilt milk.  “Can I get up yet?”  “No.”  “I want to open my presents so much my tummy hurts.”  It was decades ago, but I can still remember what it feels like to want to open your presents so much your tummy hurts.  It was 0545.  I switched on the light.  Son 1 dived into his stocking.  I went to clear up the milk.  There wasn’t any.  His cup was still on top of his bed where it always is.  It was only a dream.

A present fest.  The boys opened their stockings and then  when Granny and Granddad came at about 0730 we started on the big stuff.  Son 1 ripped through his so quickly he was soon in mourning because everyone except him had some left.  Son 2 tore a few bits of paper off and then continued his remorseless and relentless pursuit of remote controls, mobile phones and electronic gadgetry.  He only came alive once every bit of wrapping paper had been stuffed into a great big carrier, whereupon he dealt with it in the traditional baby manner.  I rang Younger Sister at 11am.  She has Godfather, Nanna, Elder Sister, Godfather’s Mother, and Godfather’s Brother for Christmas lunch.  I told her about Son 1 and the early start.  “I want to open my presents so much my tummy hurts,” she said.  “But we’re still waiting for people to get up.”  We had  a turkey crisis.  The Man had put a fridge up in his Shed to house the overspill food.  He cranked up the temperature and put the turkey in it.  Then last night when he took it out he’d frozen it.  We had the heating on all night to thaw it, and this morning it was just very chilly indeed.  So it took forever to cook.  But we got there, and, at the time of writing, our meat-eating company of two pensioners, two under-fives and a Bloke is all still alive.  Son 1 and Son 2 were in pieces late afternoon, and we just plopped them in the bath.  In bed, Son 1 said “I love Christmas.”  “So do I.”  “I love you Mummy.”  “Oh that’s a kind thing to say. I love you too.”  “You’re so lovely,” and he snugged into my arms.    

Quarter to seven and they were both in bed, asleep.  Granny and Granddad had gone back to their hotel.  Nothing on telly.  “What about Mamma Mia?” I suggested, having bought it at the end of November, and not having managed to get near it since.  “You watch it, I’ll do this computer,” said The Man, who needed to wrestle with a laptop.  So, a couple of glasses of Cava, The Man till half way through “It is a bit of a chick flick, isn’t it?” “Honestly, it’s a war film. They’ll start shooting at each other any minute.”  He went to bed. Not As Good As The Show. Which I think I saw twice.  Can’t remember.  I liked:  Meryl, because she must be nearly 60, and that means I can still be Youthful and Fun and Fashionable when the boys are 20.  The songs, because I was there, queueing round the block to see Abba The Movie in 1978 when the first showing was full.  Pierce Brosnan singing.  It just made me laugh.  I think The Man looks like Pierce Brosnan.

This has got to be one of the longest posts I’ve done, but it’s Christmas.  I spared a couple of thoughts for the people who aren’t with their children on Christmas Day - a hell I only recently understood. During the film I thought about the day Son 1 and Son 2 tell me they’re not coming home for Christmas for the first time. And then Son 1, barefoot in his Ben 10 pyjamas, bounding down the stairs to let Granny and Granddad in “Quick quick come in, it’s time to open the presents.”

1.  Coffee

2.  Church

3.  Presents

Son 1 aged 4y 3m longs for Christmas.  His tummy hurts.  He is excited.  Santa is coming tonight.  We have a deal that he can open his stocking and the big present under the tree he has his eye on - which he thinks is the Abyss underwater set but isn’t - and then he has to wait till Granny and Granddad get here.  He is also worn out.  Why are my children always so tired?  It can’t be anything to do with their five-hours-sleep-a-night full-time-working Christmas-Eve-but-I’ll-just-bash-a-blog out mother.  The Man went off to Marks for supplies with Son 2 aged 15m at about 9.  I prised Son 1 away from the telly and we met them, and Granny and Granddad for coffee.  Son 1 misbehaved, tired and excited.  Son 2, uncharacteristically, fell asleep in the Big Pram.

I took them to church.  The vicar wrote us a letter for a C of E school saying we attend from time to time, and I don’t want him to go to hell for lying.  We met some Wednesday friends there.  Son 1 and Older Brother tore up and down the aisles, played with the toys at the back and chattered, oblivious to proceedings.  Son 2 picked, uninterested, at the greenery arrangements.  In the middle of the reading Son 1 proclaimed “I need a poo,” and off we set, round pews, through doors, over concrete flooring, through an office, via a robing room (oops, that’s not it then) to the Tiny Loo.  We took Monday’s Birthday Boy with us.   Four of us couldn’t fit in, so we held the door open.  Birthday Boy is known for roaming, and wanted his Mummy.  Son 2 is unstoppable.  Son 1 took forever.  A flight of stairs plunged downwards yards from our nook.  After 10 years the Other Mother arrived, having only just realised I was three-up and out of control.  “This service isn’t very long,” I thought, as we warbled “Away in a Manger” to finish.  Then I realised we’d been waiting for Son 1 for about 20  minutes.

Son 1 put out a mince pie, a sherry and two gold chocolate coins for Santa, and a carrot and milk for the reindeer.  He was allowed to eat a chocolate coin to make sure they were good enough for Santa.  Then he decided to leave only one chocolate coin for Santa, and to put the other one back in his Trick or Treat bucket.  We decided he could leave two small ones out for Santa, but he could eat the big one.   Both boys were asleep at 7pm.  Who’s SuperMummy?  Granny and Granddad babysat, and we went round to our friends’.  We were supposed to be staying for one and then going to the pub, but they had crisps, and champagne, and an open fire, and we were talking and drinking and drinking and talking and then we had to go because G and G don’t really do Late.  Back home I put chocolate decorations on the tree, gold coins in the treasure chest and filled the stockings (not enough stocking fillers, where’s open at midnight on Christmas Eve?) while The Man heaved bags of presents down the stairs and piled them under the tree.  I need to get up at 6am to see to the turkey.  I can’t wait for the morning to come.

1.  Bathtime

2.  Second and third steps

3.  Happy birthday

I had a long bath this morning while The Man looked after the boys.  I’m suffering from stopping breastfeeding - clumps of concrete have formed and things are very tender.  I was pushing Son 1 aged 4y 1m and Son 2 aged 13m away from cuddles this morning because it’s too painful when they bash my chest.  So I had the bath to myself and things seemed to get better.  Although I’m very fluey now and more concrete lumps have formed.  Hopefully it’s just a cold and not mastitis, which I had last time round when I stopped.

Granny and Granddad arrived, and Son 2 demonstrated sharp timing by standing on request, with a big smile on his face, and then tottering forwards, right left right left… Twice.  He had a bit more control over it this time.  It was nice that The Man saw him do it too.  I think Granddad is hoping Son 2 will walk properly during their week down.  Son 1 and Son 2 did some drum and keyboard solos.  Granny was very enthusiastic, not quite sure about Granddad.  Son 1 was very loud indeed.

The Dover Sole tea was a success.  I did home made chips, parsley sauce and peas, and left Granny to deal with the fish.  Son 2 wolfed it and ate three helpings of sauce.  Son 1 stuffed himself with chips and finally ate some fish and parsley sauce when he saw Son 2 demolishing his.  He just about managed to stay at the table for the meal, which is a real achievement for him.  Son 1 chose Granny a Colin The Caterpillar cake from M and S, we sang Happy Birthday, Son 1 blew the candles out.  Granny opened her presents and cards.  Son 2 was hanging with tiredness because of the clock change. 

1. Helllooooo

2. The Peacock Playground

3.  A beach walk in the evening 

Lordy lordy Son 2 aged 8m had a terrible night, and so did The Man and I.  We have both now been awake since 3am.   Luckily, we can always see the funny side.  Etc etc.  Son 1 aged 3 and a half was finally woken by the miserable wailing at 5am, and decided to get up.  The Man was with Son 2, so up he plodded.  I heard every little but loud step taken up the stairs, then the soft pitter-patter pitter-patter to the bed.  “Mummeee.”  I remained asleep.  “Mummeee”  Zzzzz.  “Mummee, it’s morning.”  Nary a muscle.  Little fingers with over-sharp nails tried to prise my eyes open.  Then: “HEELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”   Which made me laugh so much the game was up. 

The early start wrecked all four of us for the day.  But I had promised Son 1 a trip.  The weather was promising, Granny and Granddad were next door and Wonder Nanny was around to help.   We went to the Peacock Playground - a garden with a cafe and a playground loved by Son 1.  Both boys slept in the car, and both boys woke as soon as we got there.  Son 1 dashed around the playground with Wonder Nanny, I played with both him and Son 2, but then got too fretful about sunshine on little boy skin. Went to the cafe for lunch and sat beside the fountain, which showed up our 3 year age gap at its worst.  Son 2 loved watching the water, Son 1 was a beggar to keep out of it.  He began by eating Son 2’s yoghurt and then went downhill from there.  Granny and Granddad suffered.  Lunch was very hard, even with Wonder Nanny there, but it was a great day out and probably the best venue for G and G out of our repetoire of soft play and child-friendly venues.  One of the peacocks spread its tail and started shimmy-ing at one of the females.  “Sounds like he’s growling at her to get her to go away,” said Granddad.  “I don’t think that’s what he’s got in mind,” I said.     

In the evening we went out to the Beach Cafe - last chance for Granny and Granddad to have a family meal, because I’ll be so busy with a Trade Show at the end of the week.   Son 1 had had a sleep, but was still over-tired and over-wired.  Son 2 had a very good lunch, and a reasonable tea.  I took  my eye off him for a second and then saw him splat splatting on his high chair table with his starfish hand flat in some runny cottage cheese.  Oh, I realised, at the same moment as he threw up again.  At the same moment as the food arrived. After the meal we had to wait 20  minutes for the taxi, so we went for a stroll on the beach.  Son 1 played with the long shadows and the sand, and pretended a big arty piece of driftwood outside the cafe was an eagle.  There were barbecues on the beach, people reading and people swimming in the sea.  It was a lovely evening, and it was just great to be part of that strange post 7pm community of beach people, if only for a few minutes.  Didn’t get Son 1 to bed till way past 8.  I am not expecting great things from him tomorrow.