1.  Bared Teeth

2.  Hand Holding

3.  The People On The Bus

The Man took Son 2 aged 18m downstairs this morning while I grabbed some more time in bed.  Son 2 howled and hollered.  Stood at the bottom of the ground floor stairs baying upwards.  Son 1 aged 4yrs 6m woke, shrieking for Mummy.   I collected Son 1 on my hip and took him downstairs.  Son 2 cranked up his tantrum because I was carrying Son 1.  I picked up Son 2.  He screamed and shouted and pushed Son 1 away. I put Son 1 down.  He curled up in a miserable ball on the kitchen floor.  I tried to get Son 2 to give him a kiss and a cuddle to make up.  He wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t stop yelling.  We gave him teething powder. He quietened down.  He has three canines coming through.  They seem to pop out and then sink back.  The bottom right one is now an iceberg tip - I’m sure it was bigger a few days ago.  And the bottom left one came through with a shred of pink gum up the side.  The pink bit’s gone, but the tooth still looks like it’s gone back in.   Poor child.

Dressed, breakfasted, shoe-d and coat-ed, the boys were ready to leave the house and waiting for me.  Son 1 opened the door. This terrifies us.  He’s fine, but Son 2 never stops trying to escape. A whiff of fresh air and he’s straight outside.  I rolled up the blind and put a chair next to the door so Son 1 could see out.  Then Son 2 needed a chair next to him.  Two little backs. One little head peering out, another little head, shoulder-high, alongside.   Holding hands.  Mush.

 Son 1 has been nagging me to take him on a bus. We are a rural, two-car family, so buses aren’t big in our lives.  We drove to the Big Town to the Park And Ride.  Both boys in raptures.  Son 2 pointed and pointed.  “Buh!  Buh!”  “And what do The Wheels on the Bus do?”  “Rah rah.”  And, as it was raining, The Wipers On The Bus Went Swish Swish Swish. All Day Long.  Son 1’s cheeks were fat with his smiles.  We went to the Big Town Museum. Free entry, and full of other rained-out families. The boys dressed as spacemen and played with lego.  We walked from one end of the Big Town to the other to get the bus back.  We were last off. Son 1 had removed his waterproof trousers and taken his shorts and pants down as well.  And we needed to sort the buggy.  A Bus Man came on and started pressing all the bell buttons.  “It’s the law,” he said, self-consciously. “Because we’ve got them, we have to check they work.”  “Do you need anyone to help you?” I asked.  “Because Son 1 would love that job.”    Son 1 got to press button after button after button.  He did indeed love that job. And The Bells On The Bus did indeed Go Ding Ding Ding.

1.  Whiteout

2.  Green slime

3.  Red eyes

A murmer from Son 2 aged 15m this morning, and The Man was gone.  I passed out again.  And was woken when a wall of light exploded in my brain.  It burned my eyes and seared my skull like it was bleaching my roots from the inside.  TheMan, I thought fuggily. Itmustbelateandhewantsmeup.  A flutter beside me.  “Mummy here’s a present for you.  I found it. ” Son 1 aged 4y 3m.  I’d left a tub of eyecream under the tree yesterday, because I knew what it was, and because I was busy.  “I’m sorry I opened it.” “That’sallright.Turnthelightoff.”  “I can’t reach the light.”  “You can reach the light. You turned it on.” “I can only reach it to turn it on.  I can’t reach it to turn it off.”

Son 1 had several pirate things for Christmas, including a game in which you fill a plastic skull with slime and have to fish plastic coins out of it.  I checked the list written in haste on a Christmas card.  I didn’t write down who it was from.  That means we can’t thank them.  I put Son 2 to bed, we filled up  the skull and off we went.  Son 1 fished with relish while I checked his coins were the right ones.  I got good at flicking through the ones in the slime to see which ones they were.  The Man lost, but he was the only one with a clean hand at the end.  There was a lot of slime on the FT, and a lot down Son 1’s top.  He won.  Granny and Granddad arrived as I was washing the coins, and declined the offer of a game with our champion.

Son 2 ate leek and potato soup for lunch, which was a Good Thing because he’s eaten nothing but sausages and sweets for the last two days.  Granny stayed in, and Granddad, The Man and I walked the boys down to The Square.  Son 2 was swaddled up in the Big Pram, Son 1 was in his parkha and my big leather gloves.  Son 1 ran and chattered all the way down.  Unfortunately he misunderstood what The Man said we were doing, which was walk down to The Museum and have a coffee in The Square while the children ran about.  Son 1 thought that meant we were going in the Museum.  And it was shut.  He howled and real tears flooded his face.  He rode on The Man’s shoulders on the way back.  The walk did him good - he was asleep before we’d finished his stories tonight.  Son 2 went down well, but has just been up for ages, and The Man’s gone in to sleep with him.  Instant quiet.  It’s got to be teeth.  Those big ‘uns deep in his jaw bone.  The clue is in the way he stands up and gnaws the rail of the cot while he cries indefatigibly for rescue.

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.  Hours

2.  Minutes

3.  Days

Son 2 aged 14m made it through the night again, hooray hooray.  We had a slow but busy start.  Son 2 went back to bed at about 9.  I spoke to the Wednesday Friends, down to the Museum.  The Booming Business Mother is in the Southern Hemisphere on Glamorous Work Assignment, but will be represented by her children and husband.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m and I waited till Son 2 woke up.  He watched telly, I tidied and cleaned.  We all trailed out with the Big Pram at about 11am.  A traffic warden was writing down details of my car, parked in the one hour spaces, restricted after 9am.  What idiot left it there without moving it?  Ar.  Traumatic trip home last night.  Gridlock… didn’t ring Wonder Nanny because phone in boot… raced in to send her home, late late late.  Forgot where I’d dumped car.  The traffic warden was on his first pass only… so we dismantled the Big Pram, put it in the boot and drove to the Museum.

I unloaded and reassembled the Big Pram in the car park by the Museum.  The ticket machine wasn’t working.  Didn’t want to leave car without a ticket; didn’t want to unpick Pram again.  Put  Son 1 in museum with Wednesday Friends and moved car to a different car park with Son 2.  On the way we found a new pair of child’s mittens left abandoned on the pavement.  Son 2’s.  We are indeed having a Lucky Day.    

The Museum was great, Son 1 played everywhere, Son 2 joined in at every level with a single-minded determination, and a confidence in me as a resource that got everything he wanted.  Back home I put Son 2 to bed while Son 1 watched telly.  Nanna came round.  After bedtime another Friend came round, and we had a couple of glasses of wine and discussed children non-stop for two hours.  The Man says he may not be back till Saturday.   When I was half-planning to go Swimming In The Sea.

1.  Daemon

2.  Pumpkin Soup

3.  Fireworks

A tough morning after a tough night before.  The Man conceded that after devoting weekends, evenings and agreed time off to work, he could spend a bit of time helping me today.  Maybe the fact that I drove 15 miles home from the Office last night in the pitch black with just my sidelights on, and I reversed the car into a barrier helped him realise I was suffering.  He took the boys to the Museum to see the Wednesday Friends while I lay in bed and watched telly.  Of course I couldn’t cope.  The Western World was wheeling cartwheels but I ‘m a full-time working mother and on my day off I wanted my baby.     

I rattled an empty pushchair down to the Museum, and joined everyone just as the Business Mother was scooping up the children to say goodbye.  Son 2 aged 13m clapped and laughed as soon as he saw me.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m soared off somewhere with The Man.  Back home Nanna came round.  I made pumpkin soup, with caramelised onion and a roasted pumpkin straight out the veg box.  “Yuk,” said Son 1.  I piled it into a cabbage-shaped tureen Younger Sister bought me in the days I had time to select witty serving dishes.  It worked.  Son 1 agreed it was The Best He’d Ever Tasted, and ate a grown up bowl.  Son 2 just ate and ate and ate.  The Man wasn’t doing the pumpkin soup, and made himself leftover chicken with pasta and pesto.  Son 2 ate that too.

I wanted to go the fireworks.  Son 2 was clearly exhausted, and there was some discussion about Nanna babysitting while the three of us went out.  Son 1 cuddled Son 2 and cuddled me: ” I want us all to go.”  We took a taxi up to the display.  We started talking to the firemen outside. “You’re going to miss it if you don’t hurry,” said one. “They wouldn’t have said that if you were 18 and blonde,” said The Man.  Fab fireworks.  We’d taken the Big Pram so Son 2 could sleep in it while we all walked back.  Son 1 decided he was going to sit in it.  “Put it down, I want to go to sleep.”  So I did.  So he did.  Son 2 fell asleep in the sling.  Our pram is 0 - 3.  Our sling is 0 - 1.  We had a four year old in the pram, and a 13m old in the sling.  So we stopped off in a pub for a drink.  And had a great time.  Till Son 2 woke up, as he always does, and we walked home through The Town, with the skies flashing and explosions echoing across the evening.