1.  Hair

2.  Skin

3.  Bone

I’ve had all my hair cut off. I’ve worn it short for 20 years anyway, but recently I grew it. A bit.  It went wavy. Straight-haired, don’t-care-if-it’s-raining me.  It went fluffy at the ends.  I couldn’t do anything with it.  On holiday, The Man said it was horrible.  Now I am elfin, and he likes it again.  What a relief. “What conditioner do you use?” asked the Shampoo Girl.  ”Hedrin,” I didn’t say.  Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser has spent two years tut-tutting over the straw on my head and reassuring me that Hair Changes When You’re Pregnant. This time she sprayed my head with Instant Stand-Back Defibrillating Deep Impact Conditioner.  At least I hope that’s what it was.  But the haircut’s great, the colour’s great… and I would be walking on air except for one thing…. Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser,  who runs two salons, works full-time and has two sons aged 8 and 6, has finished her Christmas Shopping.  And it’s wrapped. 

Son 1 aged 5y 1m is much better but still droops if he’s not topped up with Calpol. The rash is still pver his neck, chest, stomach and back but it’s now faint pink.  Now.  All you consultant dermatologists and micro biologists reading this.  His molluscum, which has been the grinding bane of my world for months and months and months, is clearing up.  I have tried everything.  Some of the things I have tried  - neat tea tree oil - have made his skin even worse.  He was allergic to it and he  broke out in eczema. I tried to stop it spreading with every brand of skin sensitive plasters on them and he was allergic to them all. So his chest and tummy  was peppered with horrible pustuley molluscum, and the skin between was raw with eczema. Over the last week the eczema is in retreat and the molluscum is healing over and shrinking.  So what’s done that? The Strep bacteria or the penicillin? It’s got to be the bacteria, hasn’t it, because molluscum is a virus and we all know that Antibiotics Don’t Work On Viruses.     

The other Good Thing about today was the weather in the afternoon. We had thundering rain and Force 10 winds overnight and this morning… and then, still windy, still cold, but the sun came out. We wheeled the boys into The Town, did one of our all-you-can-carry Tesco shops and came back again with not a drop of rain on us. Son 2 aged 2y 2m was exhausted and refused to sleep, which made him into my stalker over tea.  Lamb shanks. The Man bought them. I cooked them. The Man had seconds. Son 2 ate three pieces. Son 1 chewed one, then stuck his tongue out downwards so the wodge fell off on to his plate.  He ate thirds of broccoli in cheese sauce.  ”Great,” said The Man. “I’m condemned to chicken and sausages for the rest of my life.”

1.  Resistance

2.  Inertia

3.  Flow

On days like today I need a Positive Blog. We are, all four of us, knackered.  Son 1 aged 5 goes deaf when he’s tired.  My voice gets louder and I repeat myself, repeat myself.  Son 2 aged 2 grizzles and clings.  The Man lists faults. Out loud. We are worried about Son 2’s Godmother, who is on a drip in hospital with a kidney infection. And Granny is coming to stay for nearly a week tomorrow, so there has been some mad tidying, and a rather ill-timed attempt to Improve Your Children’s Table Manners In 24 Hours.  However. Digging deep in the day…  Son 2 wanted to lie down in Son 1’s bed. With Mummy.  He pulled the cover over his head, pressed his soft little face close to mine, and dozed off with snuffly little snores.  He had about 20 minutes’ sleep before Son 1 woke him by throwing toys around.

I got the boys’ hair cut.  After lunch, piled Son 2 into the Big Pram, ignored Son 1’s attempts to get in it, and strode off for The Town.  Son 1 whined every step of the way. He wanted to ride on the Pram. At the bottom of the hill I gave in. He stands on the axle and holds on to the handle, in a sort of makeshift buggy board stance.  I take the weight on my back and arms, and tell myself I’m burning calories.  This time he has perfected his technique.  He rested his bottom on the nappy bag so he had a seat. At the hairdressers’, Son 1 just stared, exhausted, in the mirror and didn’t bother answering any questions. He could barely keep his head upright for her. Son 2 was Perfect Child, sitting in a car in the window watching The Wiggles on their DVD.  People passing pointed and smiled. I hope because my child is so beautiful, and not because they were saying “Why doesn’t that mother just cut it herself?”  They both look great.  Son 1 misbehaved all the way back.

While we were out, The Man changed some of the water in the Fish Tank, so it looks better.  We switched on the skull and treasure chest bubbles, and Flossy and Coupon seemed to play quite happily.   We had a Fishkeeping For Beginners moment earlier.  I asked The Man to turn up the heater because the water seemed to be getting cooler - it’s meant to be 25C, and was barely 20C.  He kept turning it up. Nothing happened. And then… we… er… realised the heater wasn’t on. The water was at room temperature and was getting cooler because it’s getting cooler.  Still.  It doesn’t seem to have bothered Flossy and Coupon, who after 10 days with us are still alive and seem to be having a good time. Excellent. That means 1 in 3 members of our family has in fact enjoyed today.  I knew this Blog was a Good Thing.

1.   Without Consulting Me

2.  A Golden Gown

3.  Wandering Vaguely

I took Son 1 aged 4y 11m to school and found The Headmaster. At the end of last term The Man wrote to ask if we can take Son 1 out the week after half-term. The Elegant Aunt has offered us her Timeshare week.  Our holiday in May with The Family was a delight for the boys, but this, because of The Man’s Business, would be our first chance this year to go away as a foursome.  “I understand,” said The Headmaster. ”It’s not a problem.”

My last day as The Mother Of A One Year Old. I took the day off work so I could spend quality time with Son 2 aged 23m. So, after I’d dropped off Son 1 I had my hair done. I like the colour, I like the cut - she seems to have made it longer than it was when I went in, even with taking half an inch off.  Although The Stand In Hairdresser says as it’s bleached, it’s got to be short.  No handsome prince is ever going to scale a tower by clambering up my flaxen tresses. I got home at lunchtime to an exhausted Son 2 - Wonder Nanny had kept him up so he’d be awake for my return.  He then refused to sleep in the afternoon.  We played and watched telly, and then I roasted chicken legs for tomorrow’s birthday tea. Son 1 wants Pirate Chicken.  The meat pirates eat in the pictures.

I rang Nanna. “Please can you babysit so The Man and I can take my new haircut out?” She could.  We were late leaving though, after Son 1 first had to tiptoe into the bedroom to put each of Son 2’s presents under the cot. And then, as we read stories about Birthdays, we did Two Presents For Eeyore - the original of course - and his curiosity was drawn to Christopher Robin and The Narrator. “It’s his DAddy.  The stories were written a long time ago by a Daddy for his little boy who was five. And the little boy’s toys were Winnie The Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore and Owl and Rabbit and KAnga and Roo.” “Are they dead?”  “The Daddy is, I can’t remember if Christopher Robin is. He’s a very old man if he’s still alive.” “What happened to the Mummy?”  A very good question I thought. Never heard of her. In fact, now you mention it, I’m also worried about James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree’s Mother.  She may have Gone Down To The End Of The  Town and was Never Seen Again. But did anyone check the whereabouts of James James’s Father when she went missing?

1.  Lines

2.  Arcs

3.  Dots

Lordy lordy lordy. 3  x 250ml glasses of wine. Scissor Sisters on TV. I have told The Man how special I think he is and he says I can buy him the Scissor Sisters for his brithday.  Younger Sister and Son 2 aged 22m’s Pagan Godfather went to see the Scissor Sisters in 1999. Or something.  They have no children and are so much more fashionable and richer than us. I keep pressing things which make the screen get bigger and smaller. :Like Alice. Only with less punctuation. The Man says there are a lot women Out There who will regret their tattoos.  I wish I had a tattoo.  It’s not Too Late. 

Ahem.  Took Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2 for haircuts. Consecutive, not concurrent. Like prison sentences. Son 2 played with the Noah’s Ark till Son 1’s haircut was finished; then Son 2 played with it till Son 1 was finished.  They both now have a bit of a “Joan Of Arc” look about them. Nanna and The MAn are not pleased with Son 2’s look.  However. In the  hairdresser’s defence. Son 2 never stopped swinging round to look at Things. 

Went to the Discount Store; filled up on conditioner/shampoo/cleanser etc.  Blew up New Pirate Ship Ball Pool.  Took Son2 to bed. He was very interested, till he heard the click of the back door and snaked himself off the bed, down a flight of stairs and outside.  Nanna came. I made tea. Shepherd’s pie, meat and veggie.  Son 2 tried to cling to my leg.  Tea Time. Everyone wolfed their food. The Man and I went out while Nanna babysat. Usually we only have 2. Today, a neighbour dropped by while we were sitting outside The Bar.  We had 3. He left. I went to the bar to talk to the male nursery nurse Son 1 wants as his party leader next month.   He is free, only  he already has a booking which isnt dependent on time.  We want the Afternoon.  He and his girlfriend left.  We sat outside, The Man and I on a bench.  Between us and The River was a three-storey block of flats. On the roof were eight seagulls. The Man and I had a discussion about it. Was there really a Young One on the chimney, far left?  We agreed there were Eight.  We chatted.  We realised several seagulls were flying, loudly, above us and in front of us.  There were none on the roof any more.

1.  Lost Passport

2.  Hair Loss

3.  Lost Bottle

The children’s passports were in a Safe Place.  At Easter, I moved them from the Safe Place and put them Somewhere Else.  Deep in the night, I realised that I had absolutely no idea where Somewhere Else is.  I came downstairs and hunted without success.  We need the passports on Saturday.  In the morning I confessed to The Man.   In front of the boys, little was said, but we looked and looked. The Man went to work.  A Wednesday Friend’s sister-in-law is gravely ill.  We went to the other’s for lunch.    Son 1 aged 4y 7m disappeared with Best Friend.  Son 2 aged 19m came downstairs with Best Friend’’s Mother and me.  The air was coloured by the missing passports.  Best Friend’s Mother says she always puts important things in Safe Places and then can’t find them.  Very normal. Taking them from Safe Places and putting them Somewhere Else is a new approach.    A phone call during our visit from a colleague at The Office.  With Good News.  Then a text from a colleague at The Office, also with Good News.  They were all having a Good Time.  Son 2, usually interested in Best Friend’s Mother’s dog, howled and cried whenever it went near him. In the end, he clambered up on me. Son 2, I mean, not the dog.

After our visit we went to the hairdresser’s.  It was Son 2’s first proper hair cut.  His baby hair was long, wispy, thin, blond, tufty over the ears, a kiss curl at the back, his scalp caked white with calamine cream over raised scabs, and, this morning’s final touch, a thick landing strip of maple syrup hardened on top.  They sat in neighbouring cars, Son 1 watching Kipper, Son 2 watching Fireman Sam.   Son 2 was interested at first, but then just wanted to get out.  The hairdresser saved me his kiss curl, and thinks it will probably grow back.  “Look Son 1,” I said. “Our baby is gone.  Now we have a little boy.” And then, so Son 1 didn’t feel neglected: “And you’re now a big boy, don’t you look smart.” His hairdresser picked up the cue. “How old are you now Son 1?” He pointed at me to answer. “He’s four now. Did you think he was so big he must be five?” “Only four?” the wise woman gasped. “You’ve sat so still I thought you were seven.” Later, in the bath, as I recounted this to The Man, Son 1 confided “All my life I have wanted to be seven.”

I hunted before they went to bed, I hunted after.  The shelving is looking much tidier, and bags of books have been liberated for Oxfam.  The Man was trying to help, and getting out packets of photos from a cupboard.  He gazed fondly at a pile of black-and-whites. ”Look, don’t I look like Son 2 there.” “Look, don’t I look like Son 1 in that one?”   And then suddenly I moved some children’s books and there were two passports, on a shelf. I have no memory at all of putting them there.  There was a bottle of champagne in the fridge waiting for an occasion.  It isn’t there now.

1.  Where Do The Children Play?

2.  The First Cut

3.  Hard Headed Women

Went down to The Museum with The Wednesday Friends.  We had a full house, thanks to an Inset Day, so the Eldest Boy, in full time school aged 4y 7m could come.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m wore his Captain Hook outfit.  Son 2 aged 17m just wanted to walk and walk.  3 4 year olds, a 3 year old and a 2 year old played, clung to mothers, fell out, fell over…. and the little toddler just toddled.  Out towards the windows.  Down the slopes to the lower floors.  Out to the lifts.  Up the stairs.  And, back down in The Square, off alongside The Museum to where The Man had dropped us all off.  Toddle toddle toddle.   At one point I had Son 1 snuggled up in The Big Pram and Son 2 on the reins.   Son 1 has always stayed close to heel.  For Son 2, There’s Such A Lot Of World To See.

On the way back we stopped in at the Hairdresser’s to see if they could give Son 1 a long overdue trim.  He is now too big for the little cars in front of the DVDs.  Pang.  Where did that go?  He sat on a special older child’s chair, watching Ratatouille, a Gold-Medal winning Pout on his face.  I chatted to the other hairdressers.  We decided they should trim Son 2’s fringe.  We sat him in the car.  He laughed and laughed at the joke.  When the scissors came near his head, he batted them away and tried to grab the hand wielding them.  Then he tried standing up, even though he was belted in.  Then he wanted to get down.  Then he wanted to get into the other car.  I caught his baby hair, and the salon owner put it in a money bag for me.  Son 1 gathered up two cupped handfuls of his hair from the floor and presented it to me.  I needed his hairdresser to tell me: “I think he wants you to keep his as well.”   We gazed in the nearby jeweller’s shop at the lockets in the window.   “Daddy will have to buy me one of those to keep your hair in,” I told Son 1.  “And I need one for my treasure chest,” he said.

Half price food at a local pizza place, so the two other Wednesday mums and I went out for a meal.  We discussed children and men, the days before we had our families,  childhoods, people we know and food and faddy eating.  And had a very nice time.

1. Getting There

2. Cutting Hair

3. Changing flights

Son 2 aged 6 m and 3w was “Distressed” on his first morning at nursery, “Unsettled” on his second, and today had reached the magnificent height of “Quiet” on the I-Want-My-Mum Richter scale.  The nursery nurses seem to be journeying along the same path; they were a lot happier with him today, and think if he keeps this up he’ll be “Getting There.”  He’d played with toys, made friends with one of them, eaten his lunch and had his reflux medicine.  And of course burst into great shaking sobs when he saw me.

Went for a haircut after work.  It is great to sit down.  The Hairdresser has two boys a couple of years older than ours, and is a wise childcare guru.  She is organised and effective and she would never have had a baby  in bed with her during the night.    I think I’ll try and sort the going-back-to-The-Office bit first and then see what I can do about getting Son 2 back in his cot.   

We have a big weekend and Monday at The Office.  I need to work tomorrow, Sunday and then probably won’t get away before the early evening on Monday.  And yet The Man booked his latest French trip for a 3.30am departure in the early hours of Monday morning.  He’s managed to change it though, after agreeing that we couldn’t really have someone who nursery don’t know, who Son 2 doesn’t know, and who’s never fed Son 2 in his life picking him up on Monday night and giving him his tea.