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.  Three Good Things

2.  Bright and Beautiful

3. Moonrise

Son 1 aged 4y 2m is on holiday.  Hooray, no early morning chargearound to get to Nursery.  Wonder Nanny’s birthday, and we’d got balloons and cakes to celebrate.  And a visitor from HQ at The Office, nice to see them, seemed to go well.  So I had Three Good Things… but it’s been a hard day.  Son 2, after his learning-to-walk triumph, tottering confidently here and there for a week or so, has started to fall over again, or plop down on his bottom.  He did it yesterday, he did it today.  Wonder Nanny has noticed it too.  It didn’t happen with Son 1 and I don’t like seeing him do it.  The Man wonders about an ear infection maybe affecting his balance.  I am hoping it’s just stuff babies do.

This afternoon was the funeral of a colleague.  In her early sixties, cancer.  Someone who smiled and laughed always, who adored her family and who helped others the whole time.  She was fantastic to Son 1.  A simple service, hundreds of people there.  I walked back with another colleague and we were in adolescent mood.  It was so unfair.  She would have made so much difference to so many people if she’d been given another twenty years, yet there are people who do get those twenty years who do nothing with them.   We decided she would want us to be positive, and cheered ourselves up.  And then we went to the Wake, where the pub was full of people chatting, and her poor broken-hearted husband who’d given up pretending not to cry.  It was still unfair.

After the children went to bed I posted some Christmas Cards, just to go for the walk.  On the way back, across the river, I saw a faint light on the horizon.  Oh good, I thought, a moon rise.  I’ll stay and watch it because it’ll be quick and it’ll make me feel better.  The smoky cloud was just at hilltop level, and light spread behind it.  Then I realised that the moon must have risen already behind the cloud, because there was only light diffusing over a wider area, with no sign of anything causing it.  And then a molten gold ingot appeared on the horizon.  Fiery, far brighter than before.   A round orange face inched over the hill, a part golden coin gradually appearing,  It was amazing.  The water was still, the cloud was in charcoal smudges across the brightening sky.  Within minutes the gold coin had separated from the horizon, and was slowly lifting off into the sky.  The higher it went, the whiter it became, its reflection shimmering on the still river.  A last message from my late colleague.

1. Bottled Treasure

2. Forbidden Treasure

3. Little Treasures

I heard Son 2 aged 14m at about 0605, and left him. He didn’t sound too bad… but then started to get louder and I went in at about 0645. He wanted food and milk, so we went downstairs. I gave him a snack and then got my bottom smacked by a gorgeous, grinning, blue-eyed younger man. Aged 4y 2m. We had a reasonably sedate start to the day, although I had to be dressed for the BT engineer who was coming at 8am. And I had a huge, lethally-jagged broken whisky bottle to give the recycling men. Well over 20 years since it contained whisky. Son 1 broke it yesterday. “Why did you keep playing with it when everyone told you not to?” “Because of the money inside.”

The BT engineer didn’t turn up, so out we went. We saw a neighbour from next-door-but-two, and asked about the burglary. Credit card swipe entry on a yale lock at 5pm, went in, took a laptop, iPod and money, then walked into the next room, was surprised by someone there and then strolled out, carrying the gear. We went to the Museum. Son 2 was walking round, triumphant, independent, and wearing his Aren’t-I-Great face. Then a 2 year old pinched him. The saddest, mouth-turned down, can’t-breathe-too-upset expression ever, and he dissolved into lengthy howls. Son 1 and his 4 year old friend were in pirate costumes. Son 1 had kindly taken the friend a sword so they could both fight. Son 1’s sword was twice the length of the one he lent his friend. They sat side-by-side at the crayoning table. Pens, paper, glitter, glue, an odds-and-ends box and scissors had been provided for children to make Christmas Cards. Son 1 and his friend made Treasure Maps instead.

Our friends weren’t lunching, so the boys ate snacks and sandwiches, and then I got them a plate of chips while I had a coffee. They were great, they sat together, they ate their chips, they drank their drinks, they played with each other, they chatted (Son 1) and chirruped (Son 2.) Back at the house Son 2 insisted on playing outside in the front garden. He got a man to say “hello,” within minutes… and Son 1 was chatty to another one of our neighbours from way down the Terrace. She’s always stopped to talk to him, and he’s always hidden behind my legs/coat and done the Shy Boy routine. Again, good to see him with a bit more social confidence. We raced across the gravel, all three of us, me holding Son 2’s hands, Son 1 winning each time, Son 2 giggling, squealing and hooting till his legs couldn’t run any more.

1. Early Bird

2. Mocking Bird

3. Homing Pigeon

Son 2 aged 14m woke at 0425am, calling for me. The insistent, foghorn: waaaah waaaah waaaah. I’d gone to bed at midnight, so decided to give him 10 minutes. He realised I wasn’t coming straightaway, and lost his temper, arpeggio cries getting angrier. And then he went back to sleep. I think the sleeping has been better since he started walking. I got up at 0530, so we wouldn’t have a mad rush for Nursery. We still had a mad rush for Nursery.

I drove to the Whacking Great City (population 125x The Town’s) for The Office. 3 Hours + A fine, cold morning, but wet roads. The car I’ve only just taken through the car wash was covered in crud. Windscreen washers all the way. BC I went to WGC a lot. But I haven’t been since long before Son 2 was born. I parked the car, and instantly noticed better-trained classical buskers. Ours are a bit folky. And surely in the old days there were never as many women with pushchairs. Wherever I looked, mothers were pushing sleeping moppets, alert pre-schoolers or fat swaddled babies in buggies and prams. While mine were 200 miles from my side. Ladybird, Ladybird Fly Away Home. She was definitely a Working Mother.

And then I had to get back for Wonder Nanny, who had already agreed to start early and leave late. I left the meeting later than I thought. Then I had to stop for some Office phone calls. Then there was a crash on the Motorway. The the fuel light came on. I cruised along ignoring it, knowing where I was going to stop. I pulled in. The garage was shut, coned off, three police cars parked on the forecourt, bright fluorescent jackets visible inside. There’d been a police incident, said a staff member. “Where’s the next garage?” I asked. 12 miles Thataway, or 3 miles back the way I’d just come. When I got home, Son 2 was asleep but Wonder Nanny had let Son 1 stay up. I put him to bed, and went downstairs. There was a card from the police on the mat. Next door but two was burgled today. Ring if we know anything.

1.  Past

2.  Present

3.  Yet-To-Come

We are slowly but surely leaving babyhood behind.  I feel like I’m on the deck of a ship looking back at a land I won’t visit again.  Pang.  Walking is now the preferred mode of getting about.  There is still a lot of plonking down on the bottom, there is still some dropping down and crawling, there is still a lot of pushing child-size plastic chairs up and down the kitchen (being lapped by Son 1 aged 4y 2m doing the same thing.)  But 90% of the time Son 2 aged 14m is, without thinking,  choosing to walk.  It’s great.  Feet wide apart, eyes bright, and very often carrying something at the same time.  Being Son 2 there is of course a fair crack of pace already.

The new way to Son 1’s Nursery goes past the Old Nursery.  Son 1 always waves as we go by.  “Shall we take them a Christmas Card and a present?” I asked this morning.  So after I picked him up tonight we pulled over and I rang.  And we dropped in.  Four nursery nurses there to greet us, all of whom were there when Son 1 started aged < 6m.  They cooed over Son 1 in his uniform.  Haven’t-you-grown, they exclaimed.  How we miss Son 2.   Son 1 gripped my leg like a koala up a tree and buried his face in my coat.  He didn’t know any of the children, who were all under 3 years old.   It’s still loving, and it’s still lovely, but we were right to move him.

Today’s other Achievement was a pile of Christmas Shopping. Tower of Doom, various monsters, angler fish set and a Ben 10 Omnitrix for Son 1.  And a farm puzzle and a Winnie The Pooh bath set for Son 1.  Yes I know there’s a slight imbalance there.  What does everyone else do?  Son 2 is impossible.  He doesn’t play with any age-appropriate toys.  He likes Son 1’s toys.  The more chew-off-and-choke pieces, the better.  His Favourite Thing Ever is switching the telly off. Pressing the button to make the DVD drawer come out.  Playing with (adult) mobile phones.  Pressing the house phone buttons (so far no emergency services have been summoned, but it’s only a matter of time.)  Shape sorters and plastic talking toys simply won’t Shake His Pot.  He might have to have the Omnitrix.

1.  December Sunshine

2.  Decorations

3.  Marvellous Him

We went to The Beach.  Sheltered from the bitter prevailing wind, it was paradise.  Cold, but spectacular.  Blue sky, blue sea, bright sunshine and crisp fresh air.  We shared it only with about 20 dog owners and their hounds.  And a couple of old ladies in swimsuits and hats having a dip in the sea.  Our party numbered four mothers, six boys aged 4 and under, one girl aged 18m and one old sloppy dog.  The other dogs stayed down by the water (for a change.)  The boys stayed up on the sand (for a change.)  The sloppy dog didn’t try and hump any of the other dogs (for a change.)  And the mad woman with the spaniel who beat the sloppy dog when it tried to hump her dog wasn’t there.  So many Good Things.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was exhausted, and fell out with his best friend.   Son 2 aged 14m slept for about 20 minutes and was then woken up by boys yelling.  They were not at their best.  I packed up to go and Son 1 played on a wooden table top.  And then slid off, head-first, stuck, upside down, legs on the table, face wedged on the bench.

Son 2 roared, Son 1 whinged. I got them home and fed them lunch.  Er… at quarter to three.  See previous comments about how well they behave for Wonder Nanny, who has never been known to wing a meal.  The Man came back and took Son 1 out to get a Christmas Tree.  I put a reluctant, over-tired, Very Loud Indeed Son 2 to sleep.   A tree arrived, together with a blitheringly excited Son 1.  “We can’t go in the loft for the decorations while Son 2 is asleep.  We’ll wake him up.”  Son 1 has never seen any reason to mind if Son 2 is awake.  This has been the root of a great deal of tension between him and us over the last 14m.  We went in the loft for the decorations.  Son 2 woke up.  Nanna came round.  The tree was decorated.  The little boys were entranced.    

And through it all,  Son 2 walked.  Ten and twelve steps at a time.  Backwards and forwards in the kitchen, wearing his Marvellous Me expression.  Wobbling round the beds upstairs.  To the washing machine.  On the beach, just a little bit, to show everyone what he could do.  And then afterwards he needed a finger to hold on to.  This is obviously confidence-gathering time.  But he walked for Nanna, he walked for The Man and he walked for Son 1.    He cuddled Son 1 before they went to bed, he fell asleep almost straight away, and he’s (so far) stayed asleep.  Mmmm.  Is it possible that this Walking Thing might sort out the Sleep Problems?

1.  Walking pace

2.  Normal Walking

3.  Nearly Walking

Getting to Nursery On Time was a Good Thing.  I was out of the door at exactly the right time to jump in the car and go, and get to Nursery avoiding the glacially-paced Monday traffic.  “Where’s the car?” I called to The Man, who’d parked it on Saturday.  “Outside XXX and YYYs,” he said.  XXX and YYY are friends who live 10 minutes’ walk away.  Oh dear.  I wasn’t a very good Example For The Children.  However.  The conclusion is that the longer, rural route to the Big Town is faster than the normal way, despite the mile-long crawl near the Industrial Estate.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m got there in time for the Hellos.

I had to pick him up again at 1.30pm because he had an appointment with a paediatric physio.  I think his right foot flays out when he runs.  She asked me lots of questions, watched him sit, walk and run, and then moved his legs up and down while he was lying on a couch.   She says both feet flay out, but when he’s walking both feet are turned in.  His hip joints in the sockets turn in, so his thighs turn in when he’s tired, so his lower legs flay out.   Stop him sitting in a “W” - which he’s done since he was a baby; he need to be cross-legged.  And get him to stand on one leg, and hop, when he can (he can’t yet.)   In the range of normal, but he’s never going to be an athlete.  Dang, and there’s us with athletes on both sides of the family.  Was it because he was breech? I asked.  She didn’t think so, it’s hereditary.  Somewhere on either side there is another “W” sitter.  It’s just how he is.

Back home and Son 2 aged 14m is almost ready to lift off.  He can comfortably walk eight or ten paces… and managed to slalom through a doorway this evening to get to me when I went upstairs.  He can walk many steps, several times in a row before he pretends to lose interest, plops down on his bottom and goes crawling off to change the subject.  He gives himself a clap before he starts, and then steps out confidently until he lets himself fall into the arms of whoever’s in goal.  And when he totters over to Son 1’s outstretched arms and plops on top of him at the end Mummy’s heart turns to mush.

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.