1.  Red Flag

2.  White Flag

3.  Chequered Flag

We finished washing up at 0130 last night. Both The Man and I must have drunk about a bottle of wine each over the course of the evening.  In our Youth that would have been a warm up.  This is not our Youth.  Fortysomething, hungover, sleep-deprived and with two under-five boys on a wet Saturday.  It was a slow, difficult day.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m and Son 2 aged 22m woke up in the same room for the first time. “Mummmeeee!”  and then, from Son 1 “Boo.”  It was 0630. I scooped them up, put them in the Big Bed and put CBeebies on. They lasted till 7. “Can we have some food?” asked Son 1.  Downstairs we went.  They cruised on fruit and breadsticks, and then didn’t want breakfast. Fine, I thought, I’d do lunch early if necessary.  1030. They wanted breakfast. 

We rounded up library books and headed out with the Big Pram and the Buggy.  Son 1 insisted on going in the Big Pram. Son 2 wouldn’t go in the Buggy. “Walk. Walk.” We went to the library and changed the books.  To the bookshop, to buy a pirate book for Son 1.  Who woke up screaming last night and had to be carried down to see the guests. “I was completely scared of the people I didn’t know.” Then to the fishmonger for salmon for tea. Son 2 slept. Son 1 didn’t.   It rained and rained.

When we got back we all piled upstairs on the Big Bed. We had The Cat In The Hat on the DVD. The Man on one side, me on the other, the boys inbetween. The Man and I were both trying to snooze. Son 1 was bashing seven bells out of Son 2. Son 1, over-tired and off the impulse-control scale, couldn’t be quiet, sit still, stop pestering Son 2, or obey any of the other commands I barked at him.   Nanna came round and gave them their Adult Attention Fix while The Man and I got tea.    We love our boys, but bedtime was a blessed relief.

1.  Domestic Science

2.  Team Game

3.  Lost Property

My usual night-time visitor.  I will never stopped being amazed by the sheer volume of fathomless, trusting, unconditional love that pours forth from both Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 19m.  Son 1 snuck in the bed in the dark, eyebrowed for England - unconscious and vigorous stroking of my eyebrows and eyelashes to relax himself and get back to sleep - and then burrowed round the bed after me, wherever I went.     At 0530 I tiptoed downstairs, starting on packed lunches, washing and morning snacks.  Son 1 followed after, clearly still exhausted, and I made him a bed form sofa cushions on the kitchen floor.   I had to wake Son 2 up at 0730, after I’d had my shower, after I’d done my make up. 

A fabulous morning. Son 1 was philosophical about going back to Nursery, which was also a good thing.  Got dressed, found himself a nursery toy, packed his bag, had a bit of snack.  All without protest. We got there in plenty of time, which was also a good thing. 

I had a sprint round town at lunchtime… changed the children’s library books, bought school shorts for Son 1 and did an M and S run.  It made me late leaving, so I rang Wonder Nanny to apologise and warn her I’d be late back with Son 1.  Then when I picked him up from the After School Club, his teaching assistant said “The Office rang. They say can you check the message on your mobile before you leave The Big Town.”  I would have checked the message on my mobile.  Only it was in my briefcase. Which I’d left in The Office. We had to go all the way back.  And we were very very late indeed for Son 2 and Wonder Nanny.  Son 2 stood in the bay window watching, smiling and waving as I walked up the street towards the house.

1.  The Very Busy Spider

2.   Peter Pan

3.   Bob The Builder

Son 1 aged 4y 5m and Son 2 aged 18m both slept through.   Three Reasonable Nights’ sleep out of four.  With cat-like tread I tiptoed downstairs.  0615.  Son 2 woke.  Son 1 woke.  We went downstairs in search of The Man, who’d gallantly slept on the lounge floor so he didn’t wake me up after a night in the pub. They invaded his makeshift bed.    We gathered snacks and drinks.  The Man and Son 1 vanished upstairs, and Son 2 and I started his books.  He had The Very Busy Spider three times.  The first library book I may have to go out and buy.   He can’t do the names of any of the animals, but he can neigh like a horse, moo like a cow, baa like a sheep and a goat, woof like a dog, miaow like a cat, quack like a duck and crow like a cockeral.  It really made him have a go at speaking. He loved it.

Son 1 didn’t squawk about going to Nursery.  He dressed himself, ate all his tub, and tumbled out of the house in plenty of time.  We listened to the end of Peter Pan on the way: “Oh Peter, Is There Anything You Can’t Do?”  I’m getting quite fond of Peter Pan.  For a 100 year old story, it’s not bad. A great plot, some raw mother-child bonding stuff,  three fairly strong female characters and a disabled anti-hero.  Son 1 went straight in without a whimper.

A grim Office Day.  I didn’t get breakfast or lunch, and wanted to snack as soon as I got back.  The boys wanted me.  I left them upstairs and went down for soup.  Before it was even in the bowl, I could hear Son 2 screaming and sobbing.  I went back up.  Blood and snot was pouring out of his nose and he was loud and hysterical.  “What happened?”  I asked Son 1. “I put a muslin on the floor and he fell over.”  In the bath, four little fingermarks were clearly visible on Son 2’s back.  “What happened?” I asked again.  “I put a muslin on his back and he fell over.” After Son 2 had gone to sleep, and Son 1 was in his bed I asked him again. “I’m not lying,” he said.  “Show me what happened on Bob Bob.”  Son 1 punched his soft toy Bob the Builder on the back so hard he flew across the bed.  Son 2’s lip has split open again.  I am going to take him back to the doctor tomorrow and give a little bit of helpful feedback on the caring hospital doctor who told me it was a superficial graze which wouldn’t scar.