1.  Multi-tasking

2.  Multiplying

3.  Multi-coloured

Bone Tired. It has been a very long week.  I don’t know about children getting tired when they start reception but the five early starts a week are killing me.  We’ve been whirling at a cracking rate since the party last Saturday.  Son 1 aged 5 is truly dropping.  He is a saint.  Poor child. Opens a massive pile of presents on Tuesday and  hasn’t actually had the time to look at them since.   I wrote him 12 thank you letters last night. Because I Don’t Have Enough To Do.  I managed to work out what all but 2 children had given him. It made me late starting Office work and I fell asleep over my laptop.  This morning he was, all things considered ,a little angel.  Out of the house on top, breakfasted, teeth cleaned, telly watched and clutching his thank you notes. He posted them in the other children’s drawers as soon as he got to school.

Another high octane day at The Office, although there was a Friday lunchtime drink which was nice. Too much talk about young children though. I do realise that when people ask after your children they’re expecting one word answers… it’s just I never manage.  I picked Son 1 up from After School Club and he looked cross and wrecked.  “He’s been sitting looking out for you,” said the Teaching Assistant.  I heard a subtext which probably wasn’t there: “Can’t you pick him up any earlier, it is Friday.”  He’s got another full sticker card.  We went to Tesco, and again, he was fantastic. He was allowed some new Ben 10 pants for his stickers. He wanted plasticine. Or a comic. Or a toy.  40+ new toys lying around the house and he’s still nagging.

When we got back, The MAn had taken Son 2 aged 2 down to the Yacht Club. I took Son 1 for a quickie before I had to start work again. The Man and Son 2 were with two parents we know with their daughters.  Son 2 spotted me through the window, laughed, waved, and came running out to see me. The boys behaved disgracefully.  Loud shrieking, loud shouting, pushing over, pestering…  Textbook out. Look up symptoms. Ah. They are also shattered. I think what we all need is a quiet, relaxing weekend. We have a trip to the Olde Sweet Shoppe, a wedding and a Boat Trip planned. Looking on the bright side, Flossy and Coupon are flourishing, seem to think the new tank is great and are very relaxing to watch.  And the fish shop woman said we can have some more after four days or so.

1. In Reality

2.  A Nightmare

3.  Dream Finish

Son 2 aged 23m is speaking in whole sentences, and I haven’t noticed.  “Great receptive language,” I had expertly told myself, “expressive a bit behind Son 1 now aged 4y 11m at his age.” This morning. “Ah Wah Wotsh Madda Da Da.”  I Want To Watch Madagascar.  “Ah Wah Pess Buh Buh.” While I was on my laptop. I Want To Press The Buttons.   Hey ho. There was me thinking, when I get a minute, when I remember, I’ll put all the single words he can do on my blog so I’ll have a record… including all those exciting two-word sentences like “Mummy car,” and “Me Do” (See Yesterday.)  And all the time he’s near enough on “You Must Never Go Down To The End Of THe Town Unless You Go Down With Me.”

I had another one of my anxiety dreams.  I was in the kitchen, making Jamie Oliver fish pie for tea. Son 2 wanted to stand on a chair and wash the potatoes. Son 1 insisted on doing it too. Son 1 wanted to peel the carrots, so I let him “Look! Look! My first carrot! It’s not bad, is it?”  Son 2 wanted to as well, so we had to see if he could do it. “Don’t touch the blade. Sharp. Dangerous.”  The Man said the sauce was too rich last time, so I used full cream milk, and it curdled when I added lemon juice. No matter what I did, the finished meal didn’t get any nearer the oven. Both boys were going nuts with hunger.  Son 1 was supposed to grate a big slab of cheese for my rescue sauce. He ate the lot. The boys were stroppy, The Man was stroppy, the pie still wasn’t in the oven. It was 1720 and it wasn’t a dream. ”I’ll just be five minutes and then I can get it in to cook!” I wailed. 

“I’ll take them for a walk,” said The Man.  “See if the Yacht Club’s open!” I called. “Then I can come back here and switch it off after half an hour.”  Son 2 ran for the door. “And me!”  The bar was open. The boys played with their toy golf set on the lawn. The Man had a couple of pints, I had a couple of glasses of wine. Dark grey, low clouds flew by above the river in front of us… we had a light blue patch high overhead. It was great.  A snatched al fresco playhour. We came back. The pie looked good.  The boys were too tired and wired to eat it.