1.  Roast Beef

2.  Short Sharp Shock

3.  Red Red Wine

One of my mad, over-scheduled days. Son 1 aged 4y 9m, Son 2 aged 21m, Wonder Nanny and I were heading up to the Fun Park… and then we were having six friends round for dinner.  Tra la la.  I went for a run while the boys had breakfast.  We left before 11, stopping off at The Farm Shop to get the meat - a sirloin joint. ( I am an idle vegetarian cook.  Take one slab of good meat, put in oven for one hour plus, bingo, guests grateful and impressed.)  Son 2 was asleep, Son 1 wanted to get out. A peacock was parading its tail, so we let him. 

We got to the Fun Park in time for lunch. Both boys picked, but ate mighty pieces of cake. Soft Play Zone, then Scooby Doo house. Then a horse show in the rain.  The Fun Park train stood waiting in front of us as it finished, with the rain lashing down. We got in it. In the seats behind us was a family - very young dad, three year old ish boy, seven year old ish boy, young mum, very new (13 weeks) baby.  We chatted. Son 1 and Son 2 blagged cake from them.  Then the three year old boy bit the dad and the dad slapped him, hard and loud. The boy wailed.  ”Don’t bite me. Give us a kiss. I love you,” said the dad. ”What did he just do to that boy?” asked Son 1.  It was sudden, it was shocking, it was sickening.  I don’t think it was legal.  And the only thing I did was Stop Talking To Them.

We got back home at about 5, and The Man had manoeuvred a whopping sheet of plywood out of his shed and down into the kitchen-diner.  Son 1 looked at it. “Will there be crackers?” Which tells you when we last did a dinner party. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/30/whales-and-snails/  We got the boys to bed “You can come down once.  If you come down once, you get a pirate book tomorrow. If you come down more than once, there will be no book. That’s the deal.”  Couple One arrived while I was down at the shops getting horse radish.  It has been so long since we did dinner that I timed the main course and the starter to be ready at the same time. Ar.  Didn’t matter. Clever menu.  Prawns, then Beef, new potatoes  and salads.  I had sun dried tomatoes and salads.  Couple Two arrived, then Couple Three, bringing an iPod with an Eighties Mix on it. We spent a happy evening guessing the songs.  We had a great time. Apart from me putting two bottles of red wine in the freezer.

1.  Garden Party

2.  Sliding Down

3.  Wrapping Up

A Little Friend is 3 today.  His party was at a Nearby Garden.  I’ll take all the Christmas presents, I thought, taking a pile of five downstairs to wrap.  In front of Son 1 aged 4y 3m, while Son 2 aged 15m was napping.  Son 1 went nuts.  He wanted the little plastic paint-me figures, he couldn’t keep his fingers out of the Meccano boxes, he lifted the flaps in the  books.  Of course I gave up, and we just took Birthday Boy’s.  Son 1 wore his Santa outfit.  We went straight to see Santa in his grotto; 8 little boys aged 4 and under, 1 two-year old girl.  Santa was great, the grotto was great.  Is it me or are they getting better?  Santa asked all the little boys what they wanted for Christmas.  Son 1 couldn’t speak when it was his turn.  “A Knight’s Tower,” I said, “with some Monsters.”  “And what about this little one? ” said Santa.  “An iPod,” I said. “Or a mobile phone.” Santa stared and waited for a sensible answer, while small boys giggled and said “No-o,” Teletubbies fashion.  I made up a Farm and some bath toys.  Outside, Son 2 stared, rapt, at the mighty camera wielded by Birthday Boy’s parents, reaching out his little starfish hands for the buttons.  Sorry  darling, Santa didn’t believe me when I told him what you’d like for Christmas.      

The children had their faces painted.  They were all blue Power Rangers, which made Son 1 a Santa with a blue face. Lunch was served in the playground.  It was a dry, clear day so the children ate chocolate sandwiches and chased and slid and climbed and squabbled.  Son 2 reached for me every time Wonder Nanny picked him up.  That matters more than it should.  She lay him down on his back and dropped him down the slide… I caught him at the bottom.  He laughed and laughed and then started panicking in case we weren’t going to do it again.  Son 1 complained that Older Brother had hit him.  “You don’t need to tell me,” I said.  “Santa is very close and he’ll be watching Older Brother and won’t bring him any presents.”  They made up.  Cake was served.  Two more boys we know, aged 4 and 2 turned up, with their dad.  The children played, the grown ups chatted.

Some went home, we went back towards the grotto so Son 1 could make a Christmas Table decoration.  Red candle, a bit of clay, a base and all the foliage you can get in for a pound.  Son 1 did a very good job.  We put the boys in the car, they were both asleep by the time we got back to The Town, so I did a quick shopping run around Asda.  Trolley logjam.  Granny and Granddad came round to see the boys, who were fizzing with tiredness.  After bedtime, The Man and I wrapped present after present after present.  Son 2 has about 6 things, Son 1 about 15.  Must get something for Granny and Granddad tomorrow.  And for The Man, I suppose.

1.  Dancing, Glasses

2.  By George, She’s Got It

3. I Fought The Law

Son 2 aged 11m was asleep. Son 1 aged 3y 11m and I were in the kitchen dancing.  I high-kicked over his head; he ducked.  Laughing and laughing.  Then we tried it the other way round.  Me limbo-ing and Son 1 sticking his leg out.  Joy bubbling out of him.  Son 2 woke up and we could not keep him out of Son 1’s chokeable toys.  Son 1 was getting so tired he was squash-balling off the walls.  We gave them lunch and pushed them to The Square.  Son 1 fell asleep in the pushchair.  Son 2 didn’t.  The Man and I had coffee and played with Son 2, us putting sunglasses on, him taking them off.  Son 1 slept.  He missed a Fire Engine, a Diving Suit, and a Bouncy Castle.  I longed for him to wake up.  The Man prayed he wouldn’t.

Cauliflower cheese for tea.  The Man added bacon.  Son 2 ate two mouthfuls, and some garlic bread.  But he was wiped out with tiredness, and fussed, and fidgeted and cried and shrieked.  I gave him milk from his Doidy cup.  He drank a bit and then blew bubbles.  “He always gets the bubbly cup!” cried Son 1 in delight.  Son 2’s been off the Gaviscon for about a month now, but watching him fuss and yell, I said: “I think I might get him some Gaviscon.”  He lit up, bounced and bounced, and clapped and clapped his hands.  Ah.   I can add that to the list of words he understands.  As he’s heard it at least four times a day for 90% of his life I don’t know why I’m surprised. 

I went out running with The Man’s new iPod.  The Story of the Clash.  I ran round The Headland, which is four miles - my usual route is three, so I’m pretty pleased about that. There’s a half mile steep incline to get up to the top of the Headland.  Straight to Hell.  Matching the deep breathing.  It was easy.  It must be well over four years since I’ve run to I Fought The Law: “I left my baby and it feels so bad, I guess my race is run.”  It took me back to the days, six months pregnant with Son 1, when I ran up there and felt my heart hammering in my chest, ears and throat like it wanted to get out. IPod product review: very clever. I can see why people like it.  But I might leave it behind next time. I don’t know that I got to watch the light or the sea or the people as much as usual.  ”I don’t believe in sitting down, saying how bad my luck is.” 

1.  Supertramp

2. Ice cream

3. An early night

We aimed at a slow day after yesterday’s epic.  Son 2 aged 10m played with the helium balloons.  Son 1 watched telly and played with his Scooby toys.  The Man and I got up slowly.  Son 2 was exhausted, and had his milk feed, played, did a couple of books, ate his breakfast, and then went back to sleep.  The Man proudly put the iPod in its stand.  Supertramp.  It really has been rather a while since we did anything about our CD collection.

He took Son 1 aged 3 y 10m off to look at The Boat, and they came back just after I’d finished giving Son 2 his lunch.  Son 1 had been promised an ice cream, so we all walked into The Town.  We were thinking dish of something additive free in a cafe that would sell me a nice coffee.  Son 1 wanted a Fab from the ice cream van.  We saw 2.5 and his family  in the cheapo toy shop.

By tea time both boys had had it.  Son 1 was off like a firework, Son 2 was loud and whingey. I did everything early so we could get them to bed earlier.  Son 1 was bouncing off the walls. He lay down naked on Son 2’s nappy mat to stop me putting Son 2 on it.  So I plonked Son 2 on Son 1’s bare tummy, and both of them giggled and giggled.   We got them down in the end.  I went for a run, then when I came back, The Man went off to work for the evening.

1.  Birthday presents

2.  Birthday tea

3.  The Parade

4.  Peter Pan

5.  Birthday meal

It’s The Man’s birthday. Son 1 aged 3 y 10m opened all the presents, Son 2 aged 10m scrunched and ate the paper.  Son 1 unwrapped an iPod and various add-on bits,  clearly having no idea what they were all for.  A bit like his parents.    Another part of The Man’s present was when I took both boys into town in heavy rain to buy snacks and drinks, so he could read his iPod instructions.  We bought bread-and-cheese-straws-and-grapes-and-ham-and-smoked-salmon-and-quiche-and-garlic-bread-and-juice-and-milk.  But then Son 2 wanted his lunch, so we had to start back.  Son 1, acted up at the idea of skipping the balloon shop - for him the entire point of the trip into The Town.  So, despite a laden pram and a loudly miaowing infant, we dripped into the balloon shop.  Son 1 chose a farming Happy Birthday balloon for him, and a Thomas the Tank Engine one for The Man.    The balloons were filled with helium, and then we started up the hill home.  It rained and rained.  By the time we got back, the balloons had so much water on them they were floating only hip high.

A two and a half year old, and his parents, and Friend aged Five, and his parents, invited round for cake and snacks.  My idea was the children would sit down and have an early tea ahead of The Parade, while the grown ups drank Buck’s Fizz.  The boys ran riot on floors 1 and 2, while the adults and Son 2 sat downstairs and ate the birthday tea and gossiped.  They returned only for the lighting of the 12 candles on the Caterpillar Cake.  Son 1 and 2.5 year old were being lobsters in The Parade - the startlingly good, funny and very realistic costumes made by 2.5’s mother.  We were all supposed to be meeting at 5.30pm in The Park.  But it rained, and rained and rained.  The mist rolled in over the river so we could barely see the water… it rolled out again.  “It’s clearing,” we all said. It rolled in again.  And then it bucketed down so hard the rain bounced 8 inches high back off the shed roof.

2.5 year old’s parents took Son 1 and me to The Park while The Man pushed Son 2 in the buggy.  It was still very wet.  We dressed the lobsters, and they looked fantastic.  We were walking in front of a giant octopus.  The 2.5 year old’s mum decided against wearing her limpet headdress - she thought it would come to pieces in the rain.  In front of us was a group of French revolutionaries, with pitchforks and guillotines.  Every so often during the parade they would stop and have someone’s head off.  Son 1 and the 2.5 year old were cheerfully shouting “Off off off off off” with the rest of them.  A kind revolutionary always positioned his fake barrel organ so they couldn’t quite see what was going on.  “Why are they waving those buns in the air?” asked Son 1.  Marie Antoinette.  With a plate of cakes on a bricklayer’s hod.      

The rain petered out, and the French Revolution stopped to cut off the head of someone in the crowd.   While we were waiting, five children plus grown up attendants stepped out from a shop porch  in front of us.  Wendy, Tinker Bell, Peter Pan, Tiger Lily, and, very small, and in an impeccable costume, Captain Hook.  How does that happen to me?  Son 1 has a lovely pirate captain’s outfit which he has already practised wearing for his Peter Pan birthday party. The only child in the land with a Peter Pan fixation, and behold! 5 perfect costumes sashay in front of us.    It started to rain again.  The Neverland team drifted off into another shop overhang and we were back with the revolutionaries.   Too late.  Son 1 had the poop-poop expression of Toad when he first sees a car.  “Mummy I want a Captain Hook outfit with long hair and a feather and a glass sword.”

Neverland aside, Son 1 made a great lobster.  Both of them were pointed at, waved to and aaaah-ed at.  He waved back like he was in a boy band, he splashed his tail and wellies in puddles.  He ran full pelt down the street to catch up the French Revolution when we had to wait for repairs to the Octopus.  He held out his collection bucket to everyone.  He blew his whistle in time to the Revolutionaries.  He danced to music from the barrell organ.   The costume-making genius and I had discussed how she could sell such outfits online.  After a cry of “Oh look at the little lobsters, I want one,” we realised we could sell the children too. 

Both lobsters were worn out and clingy by the end of The Parade, so we went straight home.  The Man and I just about got the boys to bed in time for the taxi to the restaurant where we were having his birthday meal. The other couple we were meeting were waiting for us, him in chatty NBF conversation with our ex-MP - unseated last time.  Great meal, good wine, a lot of fun, and a very nice evening.  The friends had bought me a birthday card.  Just a minor detail to get wrong.