1.  Big Boys

2.  New Boys

3.  Hello Boys

The Rat Man says we can ring him if we find any more bodies, and he will come and clear them up.  This is a Good Thing, as The Man has left on another Business Trip. Unfortunately, The Man cannot remember which Rat Man we are using.  He found him in the Yellow Pages, he’s very nice, and he’s been back in his discreet, unmarked van to check his boxes and put more toxic waste in them.  But frankly I’d tolerate a van saying THIS HOUSE HAS RATS with a big arrow pointing at us if  it meant his mobile number was stencilled on the side as well.   The Man left at 3am, so yet again I am wandering around like a zombie.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m ended up in the Big Bed, and came down shortly after I got up.  He used to flit around like a little wraith.  He now sounds like a team of rugby players coming down the stairs. It was slightly spooky listening to him… knowing there was no other adult in the house and yet hearing great clunking footsteps powering down. And then a little figure in Lightning McQueen pyjamas pads in, holding his willy and rubbing his eyes. 

I had to go to The City, which is the best part of a two-hour drive away. When I’d finished, I went into The Shopping Centre, because I’d promised Son 1 I’d go to the Disney Shop to look for squirty toys to take on holiday.  And then… Hold The Front Page, Don’t Faint, Shoot Me Down In Flames… they had a set of Peter Pan figures.  Including The Children and The Dog.  This is an Excellent Thing.  I have spent hours on the internet, trying to find the children for Son 1. I have trailed around Disney Shops (Oxford Street: “Yes we’ve got them upstairs because they’re not very popular.” 20 mins later: “Sorry we’ve sold out.”)  We have plastic Peters in several sizes, a finger puppet Peter and Wendy, three or four Captain Hooks, a fair few crocodiles, several handfuls of  Indians and Lost Boys and pirates, pirates everywhere.   Son 1’s Peter Pan obsession began with a charity shop Disney book I bought for 49p in Feb 2007. He got his first Peter Pan things the following Christmas, and he has longed for John and Michael ever since.  So what I’m saying is, yes I bought him yet another toy.  No, I haven’t thrown out/sorted out any of his old ones. And yes, Son 2 aged 2y 1m had to have a Nemo squirty toy bath set to be fair. 

There were comments about more presents from Granny and Grandad, who were waiting with the boys because I was way too late for Wonder Nanny.  Never mind. The Best Thing today was The New Swimming Costume. Not the one I wanted, not one I would have picked out… but it’s slimming, it fits nicely and it was in the sale.  I was excited for a few minutes because the label said 14E.  In better light, I realised that was the Australian sizing. I’d been worried I was stuck with the skanky baggy swimsuit for the holiday. I got put off the Bravissimo website because I needed to think of a password. (Really sorry, can’t. Got a pile of passwords to remember anyway, and a head so full of Other Stuff that not one more fact can be jemmied in. )  I tried another website. Ordered a beautiful costume on Wednesday. Ticked the box for faster postage to beat the strikes. And got an email saying they’re not expecting them in till next week. Today really was my Last Chance.  I don’t think I’ve worn a halter neck in my life but Granny thinks it’s great.

1.  Babs In The Buck-Buck

2.  You Shall Have A Fishy

3.  Sundowners

Out to the river wall at the end of The Terrace, crabbing again.  The Man baiting two lines with bacon, Son 1 aged 4y 10m happily scooting up and down, me trying to keep Son 2 aged 23 m out of the water.   Eleven crabs.  We all caught them, including Son 2. “Bab! Bab!”  Son 2 is of course still obsessed with fish, and while crabs were ok, yearned for “Fish!  Fish!”  And he also wanted to bait the hooks. “Babon! More Babon!”  We persuaded him to feed bits of babon to the babs in the buck-bucks instead. Son 1 is going to fall in the river.  He is always right on the edge, he has no concept of the incoming tide “Son 1 you really do have to MOVE!” and he doesn’t understand that the green slimy stuff is very very slippery.   Oh well. There is one sure way of his learning…

Still on our fishy theme, we drove to the Garden Centre so Son 1 and Son 2 could have another look at the Fish Shop.  Son 1 is still keen to get a fish tank for his birthday, so we wanted him to have a good look at all the fish for sale to get an idea of what he wants.  Nemo.  Who needs warm, salt water, a tank full of difficult, expensive swaying corals and assorted sci-fi prawnie things to keep the water and the tank clean.  Main diet of prawnie things = expensive corals.   The lad behind the Fish Shop counter recommends tropical fish for a beginner. Easier than goldfish, who are too messy.  The starter tank kit was eye-wateringly expensive. “Son 2, do you want to share Son 1’s fish tank for your birthday present?”  “Yesssss.” Sorted.  They can have toys for Christmas.

They fell asleep in the car on the way back, so The Man and I drove up to the Headland for sneaky whirly whippy ice creams with chocolate flakes in.  We scoffed them guilty while they slept. Back home I went shopping with Son 2 while Son 1 and The Man watched telly.  I got tea, amid protests from Son 2, who couldn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to wash the potatoes. Because we’re having stir fry darling.  Nanna babysat while The Man and I went out to the Hotel With The River View. We sat outside while the sky darkened and the lights across the river came on.

1.  Mummy Vanishes

2.  Fishing

3.  Finding Nemo

The Man was still alive this morning.  “I did think you might be worried.  I’ll take my phone up with me next time.”  “Is it a Wonder Nanny day today?” asked Son 1 aged 4y 10m as I was getting ready for The Office.  “Yes,” I said. “And then Mummy will be with you tomorrow.” He let off a high wail.  “You don’t (sob) love your boys (sob.)”  Thanks for that one Son 1, I’ll even up a little when I’m in the nursing home.  Son 2 aged 23m was a little darling. “Neno!  Neno!” I do an abridged version of Son 1’s Disney book. “Tak Ta!”  His lift-the-flap farm book.  I almost got him to sit all the way through The Cat In The Hat last night. The Cat was a winner, so was the fish.  He went walkabout well before Mother Came Home.

I had to drive to The City. The roads were ok, it’s always good to see my colleagues from The City Office, and someone said something very nice to me in a meeting. On the way back I stopped at Waitrose because we’re out of Cheerios and tea. A friend wants Wonder Nanny to take her child as well as our two for one day.  Fine, I said, but I’ll have to ask Wonder Nanny. She’d gone by the time I got back. Son 1 pelted down the stairs to greet me, Son 2 just sat up top laughing. 

Son 2 is great. “How old are you going to be on your birthday, Son 2?” “Doooo.”  We sat and read, and then he had his bath, lying face down, full length in it as he played with two tigers and a donkey. His post-bath game is called “Boo.” It involves him lying down with a towel over him. “Daddy, Daddy, something terrible’s happened!  I can’t find Son 2!”  Daddy comes in - somehow this is always timed just after he’s lain down on the bed - lifts up the towel and there is Son 2, who laughs his head off.  Son 1 also plays. He comes in, points at Son 2 and says “He’s there. Under the towel. He’s always under the towel.  Every time.” Again, thanks for that. I put a toy Nemo we’ve had hanging around for ages into the cot with Son 2 tonight, in the hope it might stop him screaming for me the minute I leave. He still screamed, but not for as long.  Could this possibly be the solution?

1.  Pampering

2.  Partying

3.  Parading

Son 2 aged 22m lies on his nappy mat, stinking.  I clear him up.  “Wipe,” he commands.  I can’t let him have one until he is Clean. Otherwise he will start wiping himself.  I give his nose a kiss. He pulls me down towards him. I rub noses back and forth, telling him “Eskimoses Rub Their Noses.” He hoots with laughter. “Again. Again. Again. “ 

We went to a Summer Party, at the home of some friends in The Country.   Parking in their field, a massive Bouncy Castle, and another newly-mown field for the children to play on, including a goal with loads of footballs, a water slide, a playhouse and a rocket launcher.   The friend, someone I worked with years ago, carried her six-month-old around. Gorgeous. And about the size of Son 2. I do hope he’s out of the 9 - 12 month clothing before he’s two. The Man was hungover, and felt better after many burgers and sausages.  Son 1 aged 4 y 10m ate one sausage and a piece of lettuce. Son 2 said “Cake!  Cake!” Father Jack-like. Son 1 sped in, along and up the Bouncy Castle a zillion times. Son 2 made it on his own.  Although when he got to the top of the climbing wall, he sat, waiting for me to climb through and up to help him.  I made it, several times, but was inelegant scrabbling down in my black linen frock. It took me back to the days when I slid down marquee roofs wearing fancy dress…

We came home, I dashed into town shopping, taking Son 2 with me, hoping he’d have a snooze in The Big Pram. Nope.  Then we were in The Carnival.  A friend gave us a lift, his partner had made the costumers. Marlin for Son 1, Dory for her son and Nemo for Son 2. We joined our partners in the parade, secondary schoolchildren also in costume, hauling a huge whale on a boat trailer.  We watched and waited while Vikings, Pirates, penguins, fairies and cyclists gathered.  The Town Band had dressed up like the Welsh Guards in Rourke’s Drift.  We set off. Son 2 refused to walk, but just stood, peering and everyone and everything.  We walked down a steep hill towards The Town.  I was worried our whale was going to break loose, ten-pin bowl its way through the carnival procession and leap over the buildings at the bottom and into the sea like Free Willy. Son 1 held hands with his 3 year old friend all the way round, and collected a fortune in their buckets for looking cute.    Ye Olde Sweetshoppe was open, so I bought 2 Childcatcher lollipops for the boys at the end. They all crunched up. Son 2 had green food colouring all round his mouth. High as kites and off their heads with tiredness and sugar, they zinged around. 

When we got home, I showed Son 2 his reflection in the hall mirror. “Who’s that?” I asked. “Son 2!” he said.  The little lamb can say his name. Sigh.

1.  Walking

2.  Writing

3.  Silence Of The Seahorse

Son 2 aged 14m has started choosing to totter a few steps to get where he wants to go.  Rather than crawling.  About one in three times.  He did it today without thinking - as opposed to standing in TA-DA mode, with a huge expectant grin on his face, launching himself forward into doting outstretched arms and making sure everyone’s clapping.  And he did it without us egging him - we kept catching him doing it.  He can walk, often, for 10+ paces  at a time; he can change direction.  His balance is good.  He’s standing confidently for longer periods.  I think today is the first day I can say he is starting to walk.  And from everything we already know about Son 2, we Need Reins.  Now.

I was off today, so Wonder Nanny and I took the boys to the Aquarium.  Son 2 loves fish  -  he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth every time he sees one in a picture, and he was spellbound.  There are some tanks at a good baby height and he stood up against them and stared and stared and pointed and uh-ed and stared.    Son 1 aged 4y 2m was delighted and excited, and loved the sharks and the turtles and the seahorses and spotting Nemo characters.  He drew a sea monster for a display of children’s drawings.  He coloured in a shark in the cafe.   And then, in yellow pencil on white paper (so I now can’t see it) he did a half-decent effort at writing his name.  The letter shapes were there… in order.  Not in scale with each other, not entirely recognisably Roman, and nose-diving down the page.  But it was there.

It was a Good Thing seeing Son 2 so relaxed and comfortable with Wonder Nanny.  In the car we discussed Son 2’s sleeping.  For his  daytime nap, she has a routine to send him to sleep, but if he starts “interacting” with her, she leaves the room.  She’s found it hard over the last couple of weeks.  We both think the MMR whacked his system.  She thinks I should try Controlled Crying at night. Can’t.  I always go back.  This evening I put him down, sang him his lullaby, and he started getting up, biting my hand, sticking his fingers up my nose, rolling over, pressing his head against mine and grabbing the bars of the cot.  That’s interacting, I thought, and I said goodnight, kissed him, and went to Son 1.  Son 2 raged and roared and ranted.  “We’ll do two books,” I said to Son 1, “then I have to go  back to Son 2 because I can’t stand him making that noise.”  ”OK,” said Son 1.  We looked up the things we saw today in his Ocean Encyclopedia.  Son 2 fell silent during the seahorse.