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.  I Don’t Have To Runday

2.  Let’s Go Make Some Noise

3.  Funday

Son 1 aged 5, and Son 2 aged 2y 1m slept through, and so did I. Son 1 stayed in his own bed.  This is a Very Good Thing, as I am Truly Knackered.  The first day of Half Term. Son 1, who has issues with Monday morning, eg: http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/09/29/payback/  was dancing on the Big Bed at 0630, spinning round and round with his arms out. “And me!” said Son 2, in raptures, trying to get up there.  They had breakfast. We read. We went upstairs. I read Son 2 Lost and Found and then put it on from the EPG while I had my shower. I zoomed around, they lolled. I wore a silk print frock, with that last-time-this’ll-be-out-this-year feeling. 

Back from The Office, Granny and Grandad were sitting at the table while Wonder Nanny served fruit and yoghurt for pudding. The boys, who I’d seen through the window sitting perfectly, both went into orbit.  Ran off from the table, shouted, raided the fruit I’d bought and took one bite out of everything, fell out over satsumas, shouted, snatched, pushed each other over. Son 1 span round and round.  And shouted.  Yummee.   Just for me. “They’ve been exceptionally well behaved today,” said Grandad.

I told G and G about the dead rat, and got Granny to supervise Upstairs while I took the bins out.  I somehow didn’t fancy dragging dustbins through Rat Alley in the dark. ”Grandad!” called Granny. “Are you going to help Serenedays?” “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I called back.  But still I heard him get up from his chair.  That’s nice, I thought, he’s still coming down. Nope. Grandad, who has never previously entered a bathroom with boys in, pelted upstairs to help Granny. Not a rat man then.   I saw no critturs. I relieved Granny and Grandad, and conditioned and combed Son 1’s hair. He was not happy.  I don’t think there’s anything there, but I can’t really see. One for Wonder Nanny.  I’ll give Son 2’s a go tomorrow when The Man is back.  Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser says her children never get nits because they’re so rabidly antisocial they never put their heads near anyone else’s.  See? Even head lice can be A Good Thing. They mean your child has social skills.

1.  Swimming Beauties

2.  Swimming Babies

3.  Swimming Boys

A Grim night.  Son 2 aged 17m woke hollering at 0030, and I went to him, switched his fan on (white noise) and helped him back to sleep.  I hadn’t got back to sleep when Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke up, and I went in with him.  When he went back to sleep I went in the double bed in Son 2’s room. I was so wrecked when he woke up that I tried to get him back to sleep.  He refused.  Needed new nappy.  Son 1 arrived.  No chance of getting back to bed.  Looking out at the river while I changed Son 2 I saw 10 swans, seven swimming in a long line, three stragglers bringing up the rear.   A record for the river. Son 1 said something about  seeing a long line of swans a few days ago.

Son 2 was again, uncontainable this morning.  Climbing, pulling things out of drawers, demanding mobile phones and the fancy ear thermometer.  He wriggled down from the bed while I was reading to him and marched off  to the bathroom, patting the taps, tugging at his pyjama top “A-ma.  A-ma.”  He always comes in the shower with me, but I’d already decided we were going to Baby swimming.  He was desperate to get in the pool, swam on the noodle with me, but really wanted to wander off on the tiles without me.  I let him the first time.  Skid. Bang.  Wah.  Huge bump on his head.  Split lip open again.  Blood everywhere.  I mopped him up and we went back in.  A bit more swimming, but then he wanted to get out.  He was asleep in the car seat when we got back to the house, and stayed asleep while I took his coat and shoes off, put him in his sleeping bag and put him in his cot.  

I went back to the Pool with Son 1. Best Friend and his brother were there with their parents.  And a colleague of mine from The Office with his three boys.  And the two boys nannied by Wonder Nanny’s friend.  And Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser and her two boys.  Son 1 played with Best Friend in the spa pools and the main pool.  He went down the Flume twice, me following behind him. Best Friend left. Son 1 played, I followed.  Lovely Chair (I sit on the noodle and he pulls it away; I pretend I don’t know who did it,) Terrible Weather (we sit under surf boards under the big fountain and the water hammers on top,) Killer Whales and Crocodiles.  Back at the house Son 2 had only just woken up and was having lunch.  Afterwards Son 1 made a picture of peacock with the feathers we found on Tuesday.  I was thinking eco-material collage.  Son 1 did his own thing and wouldn’t accept parental guidance.  It was roadkill.

1.  Christmas Play

2.  Play Date

3.  Cold Play

Our First School Play.  We Are So Proud.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was a robin.  Brown tights, brown long-sleeved tee-shirt, red belly tied round his tummy.  Painted brown nose.  He had to flap a lot with the other robins, and looked very worried throughout.  But all the best robins look worried.  How the other parents must have wished their children weren’t on stage with ours.  Eclipsed, outshone, overshadowed by the best robin ever.  We of course was robbed, and he should have been Joseph.    Only that was Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser’s son.  A non-speaking part.  And he had a tea-towel on his head so no-one could see how well his hair was cut by his Mummy.

We only just made it back home before some of our Wednesday Friends arrived for tea.  They are mid extension-building, and are now down to just a microwave to cook with.  I’d made stew.  Farmshop meat, organic everything, mash, broccoli/cauli and cheese sauce.  The Man, the Mother and I wolfed ours.  The children - Son 1, Son 2 aged 14m, and the guests, boys aged 4 and 2 - ate nothing.  The Man begrudgingly agreed that the leftovers could go home with the Mother to her partner, who was putting an extra coat on the kitchen.  Son 1 and his friends ate iced buns.  The icing off the iced buns that is.

The children went down to sleep relatively easily, but it was very late.  At 10 past 8 I went downstairs.  The lounge looked like a plane wreck.  The dressing up box had been looted and spread out over the carpet.  Various bits of various outfits were hanging up on the stairgate.  The kitchen had dirty pans, plates and plastic pots on every surface.  And The Man had gone to bed.  I went for a run.  And I started thinking positively.  The lounge wouldn’t take long to do.  The kitchen would be easy.  It rained.  This is ok, I thought.  I’m a runner.  I’m getting wet, but I don’t care.  The rain got heavier and heavier.  Being positive, I thought, at least it’s not too cold, and at least it’s not windy.  It pelted down.  So hard that yard-wide puddles appeared before me… so hard my hair was plastered to my head, so hard my feet were squelching in my socks.   Then I reached half way.  When I finally arrived home I was drenched through and freezing. And The Man had tidied the lounge, and was making a start on the kitchen.

1. Being Here Now

2. Stuffing

3. Bullseye

Getting back is a Praiseworthy Thing (been reading from the Booker Shortlist… also a Good Thing.) I’ve had a week of being ill and technological trauma. So. Today. Son 2 aged 14m slept for two and a half hours, and in the end I had to wake him up. He has done a couple of nights in the cot this week, but he wouldn’t sleep without me last night. Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser says I should just dump him in his cot and let him sort himself out. Soon. But he has little starfish fingers that gently pinch my neck till they find a bit they like to hold on to… and he has soft snuffly hair which he snuggles under my chin, and if I inch away from him he rolls his whole body into me…

Son 1 aged 4y 1m has a bucket of Trick or Treat booty gathered during a trek up and down The Terrace last night. He is allowed one piece after each meal, and thankfully hasn’t noticed that I have thinned it. None of our Friends did the Halloween thing… their children don’t know about it and they wanted to fend it off for another couple of years. I however have left Son 1 alone with Horrid Henry cds for 45 minutes at a time. So he wanted to lay his costume out on the bed. And in answer to a caring “What would you like to do today, Son 1?” question, said “Go upstairs and watch telly and stuff my face with sweets.”

Granny and Grandad said their goodbyes this evening; they are heading back tomorrow. They were delighted with and enchanted by the boys, but they don’t really do bad weather. They’ve booked in again for Christmas. We had a Last Supper of fillet steak, chips and peas. Or they did. My meal ended when Son 2 flung a lump of fillet at my lentil burger.