1.  Stringing Together

2.  Strung Up

3.  Strings Attached

The Man wanted to go to a beach to fly the kite which Brother and family gave Son 1 aged 4 for his birthday.  I wanted to go back to The Square and drink more English sparkling white to celebrate stopping feeding Son 2 aged 13m.  Excited at the idea that The Man had started sentences with “Let’s…” and “Shall we…?” I thought we’d better do his thing.  First we all went down to the Tesco Metro to do some shopping for the coming week, when he has another Business Trip.   We brought it all back to the house, and then off we went with The Big Pram and The Buggy, to the beach.  At the bottom of the hill, the Man remembered he hadn’t given Son 1 his penicillin.  They waited; I trotted back to the house.

Son 1 loved the kites, Son 2 loved the beach.  The first kite wasn’t a success.  The Man whined at me for not being a kite-flying expert.  Son 2 was crawling among the shingle and seaweed, where dog poo and broken glass lurked.  Various dogs the size of ponies were charging up and down the beach, their owners hundreds of yards away.  The Man was on his own with the kite, and terribly sorry I was too.  The old kite was better.  Son 1 just laughed hysterically at tangled strings, crash-landings, great gusts of wind, runaway aircraft and any attempt The Man made to tell him what to do.  It was priceless.  Son 2 watched it all with the superior yet faintly worried expression of a headmaster in the playground at lunchtime.

We pushed  them home via The Festival.  Packed again.  Son 1 saw a 4+ girl friend from the Old Nursery.  He was very excited.  “Hello Son 1,” she said, in a resigned voice.  Then, hearing grizzling from The Pram, she perked up: “Is that Son 2?”  I turned the pram round and he reached out to her. At home they watched a DVD and played drums and keyboards. I made bangers and mash and cheese and onion sauce and broccoli.  Son 2 wolfed it.  Son 1 ate it, every mouthful cajoled down by me.  He sang a song about putting plums in boxes.  And then the killer chorus: “Thank You God for the Harvest.”  The New Nursery again.  I had walked four miles. I’d made tea from scratch.  I was about to, again, deny Son 2 a breast feed. I left Darwin for next time.

1.  Night Manoeuvres

2.  The Doctor

3.  A Clever Little Boy

Son 1 aged 4 arrived at about 0100. Still hot. Still crying if he couldn’t have my face close to his so he can comfort-stroke my eyebrow.  “I want a drink.” “I need the loo,” “My ear is sore.”  I went to the loo while he was finally asleep. And came back to him T-boned across the King Size bed, head on the pillow my side, legs sticking out The Man’s side.  I slept on a slither of bed the width of a bookmark.  90 seconds later.  I heard Son 2 aged 13 m wake up with The Man downstairs.  I drowsed.  The Man brought me a coffee.  He switched the light on. “Don’t do that, you’ll wake Son 1,” I snapped.  “Son 1’s downstairs with Son 2,” he said. ”They’re waiting for  you.”

 I made an appointment for Son 1 to see the doctor, to get his ear and throat checked out.  The Positive Point was that I rang at 10 past 8 and got an appointment at 10 past 9. So I will not dwell on having to tell the Woman Who Answers The Phone what was wrong with Son 1.  He didn’t want to go.  Because of the “noodles.”  Which was his MMR top up a year ago.  He’d gone in happy, looking forward to the Play House.  He came out crying, not consoled at all by the bag of chocolate money I gave him.  “I hate doctors.” The Man had to take him.  I wrote everything down for him.    He forgot to ring me after, and wasn’t answering his mobile.  At lunchtime he rang back.  The doctor said Son 1’s throat was a bit sore, there was nothing wrong with his ear.  Give him Calpol.  Son 1 had extracted the Smarties from The Man’s pocket  before they were out of the consulting room.

I went like the clappers at the Office to get out in time for Son 1’s Parents’ Evening at The New Nursery.  The Man got stuck behind a slow lorry and didn’t get there on time.  Son 1’s Teacher said he’s settling in well, takes part in class, chats to his friends, has good focus, an excellent vocabulary, he’s a clever little boy, he’s polite, eats his lunch well with a knife and fork, cares about his friends - if someone’s hurt he’ll go and tell an adult, and plays well in the playground.  And has great memory retention… two days after listening to her tell him something about elephants he repeated it back to her.  Any questions?  “What does he do all day?” I asked.  He always tells me he can’t remember.  The Man got there for the last few minutes.  We drove home different ways as an experiment to see which route is fastest, and arrived back at the same time.  Wonder Nanny smiled when I walked in. “I think Son 2 has chickenpox.”  

1.  Wonder Nanny

2. Dilemma

3.  Friday Night

Wonder Nanny today starts doing extra days for us.  Huzzah.  Her two weeks’ holiday were a blurry insight into what our lives without her would be.  Ages ago I read that the only way to work full-time is to bite the bullet and get the best childcare you can afford.  We are truly lucky having her.  Son 2 aged 1 went to activity class yesterday… and to church playgroup today.  Poor lamb.  As over-scheduled as if I were home with him.  Yesterday and today Son 1 aged 4 and I had to leave the house before Wonder Nanny arrived, and didn’t get home till after she’d gone.  Son 1 fell asleep in the car on the way back and barely woke before bedtime.

Son 1 seems happier and settled at the New Nursery, although I’m now wondering whether I should drop a day.    It is amazing, but it is a long hike over there, the traffic in the morning is horrible, and we have to get up and get out so early that I feel like I don’t see Son 2.   Now Wonder Nanny’s around, should I just let the poor child sit at home and play with his own toys for a bit before he gets sucked into education and never comes out again? Let him be with his brother for a bit?

My third Good Thing is just getting to the weekend.  I have finished today’s work from The Office (although there’s tonnes left for Monday) so in principle I don’t have to do any more all weekend.  After a very rough month with Son 2 and two Business Trips for The Man - I am starting to feel a bit battered.  And now I will just sit around all weekend while The Man makes the most of every opportunity to help.

1.  Signs

2.  Mimes

3.  Reminders

Looking on the bright side, I’ve started to stop breast feeding, and I’ve cleared out a cupboard.  But big attack of the Pangs.  I didn’t do the morning feed.  I’ve probably picked the worst time to drop it… Son 2 aged 1 is still sleeping badly… his teeth hurt… he’s lost Son 1 aged 4 from his life three days a week… Wonder Nanny is on holiday so he’s done two days in  a row at the Old Nursery for the first time ever… and along I come. You Are One Now So We Have To Stop Breast Feeding.   Son 2 asked and asked (When will Justin do that sign? Launch yourself forward with an open mouth at Mummy’s chest… “you sign ‘I want to feed from your breast.’”) But we did without.  And then I sorted Son 2’s baby clothes round for a friend who’s just had a little boy.  Pa-a-ng.  Horrible.  To start with I was doing a bit of “I could keep this,” and ” I could sell that.” But I decided to just give the lot away.  It hurt.   I’ve taken my first step towards the place where I accept there isn’t going to be another baby. 

But, the day got better.  We went to a party - one of the children from the New Nursery.  Well, one of the children and the entire New Nursery class.  Oh dear.  Now what do I do? Go through the whole year going to New Nursery parties without admitting that we already had a big one… or watch Son 1 not get invited to New Nursery parties because he didn’t invite the whole class.    I am amazed at how much I care about Son 1 and parties. While it’s good to still be able to surprise myself at my age, the old, BC me is standing on a hilltop in a parallel universe willing me to get a life in this one.  I think it’s just because I love seeing Son 1 so happy.  Today he didn’t really know any of the other children, yet he knows the language, pass-the-parcel, the parachute, the team games.  He made tiger claws and roared, he was an aeroplane, he was an elephant.  All unselfconsciously and with sparkling eyes and intent concentration.  Till he sees the party bags. “Can we go home now?”    

Then we went to the friend’s house with the bin bags.  New little three-week-old, lying asleep in his Moses basket.  His 4 year old sister playing instantly with Son 1.  They haven’t seen each other since Christmas, so it was good to see them click. Son 1 shared his party bag chocolates with her… unheard of.  Son 2 carpet-bombed from his nappy. And then crawled up to her keyboard and played and sang into the microphone.  He’s still feeling awful.  And olgaorbit has reminded me what a rubbish time he’s having. I think I’ll sleep with him tonight.

1.  Getting out

2.  Dropping off

3. Picking Up

I got Son 1 aged 4 to the New Nursery on time.  This is a Good Thing.  It involved, several days ago,  booking Son 2 aged 1 into the Old Nursery early.  Then we had to get out of the house.  I am trying so hard not to chivvy Son 1 because I don’t want him feeling stressed about going to the New Nursery.  And, like his father, under pressure he g-o-e-s i-n-t-o v-e-r-y s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n while I zizz around like a bluebottle on speed.  So when, having strapped Son 2 into his car seat, Son 1 stood on the pavement and said “I want a poo,” I did not take it well.

Poor Son 2 was the first into Nursery.  However.  Wonder Nanny can soon work for us four days a week, so I don’t need to worry about the look of betrayed grief in his eyes when he sees I am going.  I’m trying to keep things easy for him because I want to stop feeding him.  Hopefully, today’s will be his last morning feed.  I will give it a go with just the beaker tomorrow.  So at night it’s me or The Man lying beside him on the bed and edging him into the cot if we can…  and in the day he just clings and clings.  I know I’ll be sad in a way when I stop, because I’ll never feed another child.  But I know I am very ready indeed to Move On.. 

I promised Son 1 a bow and arrow if Mummy Got A Nice School Photo.  And he did the job.  Dazzling smile.  So off to the wooden toy shop I went in my break.  No bows and arrows left.  When I picked Son 1 up he came running back across the playground “Where’s my bow and arrow?”  Ah.  Pretty inconsolable.  Son 1’s tears only stopped when he looked at the TK Maxx presents I’ve bought for the party/visit this weekend.  He ran his fingers over the mini-Bratz doll and pink accessories.  “I’ve wanted one of these for a very long time.”   Son 2 was the last-but-one child left at the Old Nursery. Pang.

1.  The school run

2.  The school lunch

3. The milk bottle

Marathon session today.  Me and two boys to get up and out of the house early enough to get to the New Nursery, drop off Son 1 aged 3y 11m, get back to the  Old Nursery, drop off Son 2 aged 1, and then get back to The Office.  Then I needed to collect Son 1, collect Son 2, get them home, wait for Wonder Nanny to arrive and get back to the New Nursery for parents’ evening.  I did it, but I was up at 0530, didn’t get lunch, and could only grab some breadsticks and houmous with the boys before I had to pile out again.

Son 2 had his first Big Boy Food at nursery.  I’ve made him lunch for his first six months there; now he is 1, I am moving him on to their food.  He usually has carefully and lovingly made organic baby mush from one of my many Annabel Karmel cookbooks . (”Sweet potato and lentil is his favourite/he needs iron he’d better have spaghetti bolognese/salmon and tomato sauce, I think, to give him some Omega 3.”)  He had sausages and spaghetti hoops and ate it all.  

Wonder Nanny put the boys to bed.  Did their bath, gave Son 2 a bottle and then read to Son 2 till he fell asleep.  Here I sit, having not breastfed my baby at night for the first time in his life.  And having not been involved in his bedtime…  He’s 1 now, I’ve done really well with him and now I can try all this stuff.  I’ve been trying to cut the quantity of milk I give him in the morning, ready to cut that feed first when The Man gets back.  But I think I’ll see how I get on.        

1.  Uniform

2.  Arrival

3.  Verdict

Wakened at 0520 by a loud barking cough from Son 1 aged 3y 11m.  His first day at the Posh Outstanding Inconvenient Nursery. I went downstairs and got into bed with him to check his temperature and listen to his breathing.  Crisis.  Do I keep him at home with Wonder Nanny on his First Day when I want him to do a short week next week…  Will they only do their settling in stuff this week… Should He Stay Or Should He Go?  I got up at 6am and made drinks, fed Son 2 aged 11m, and got Son 1 into his uniform “If you do this you can have a sticker towards a Power Ranger toy.”  Don’t like his uniform.  Pots of money for bri-nylon fabric which I’d never put him.  And dry clean only trousers.  But as they all say, he just looked so dang grown  up in it.

We got out of the house an hour earlier than usual, and drove to the New Nursery.  It was surprisingly ok to get to - there was traffic, but not as bad as I’d thought.  And the parade of cars dropping off was also tolerable.  I took Son 1 in and a Classroom Assistant sat down with him to play.  The first time I asked him if I should go he clutched my hand.  I waited, and then said “None of the other children have kept their mummies.” And he pushed me away with the back of his hand.  We waved and I blew kisses from the doorway, and off I went, hollow inside.

I was run off my feet at The Office - I texted The Man to tell him the time Son 1 needed picking up, and then didn’t get time to look at his reply till I got home this evening.  Son 2 was crawling across the floor, his smile and eyes beaming like headlights… Son 1 was upstairs playing pirates with Wonder Nanny.  He’d been swimming, he’d brought home a library book.  The New Nursery have taken his file.  “I can’t wait to hear how you got on.”  I said.  “I got on all right,” he said.  “It was great.” 

1.  The Darkest Hour

2.  The New nursery

3.   A Lovely Day

Son 2 aged 9m started screaming at 0230 - half an hour before The Man had to get up to leave for the airport.  I went down to offer him the solace of his mother in his hour of need.  And an hour later put him back in his cot and went downstairs to make a cup of tea.  He screams and writhes if I’m not there.  He screams and writhes if I am there.  I saw on some website that “high needs” (= 2008 terminology for babies who get very very cross) infants can end up stimulated by the presence of their mothers at night. That’s very Son 2.  I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP I WANT TO GET UP NOW WHERE ARE THE TOYS WHERE IS SON 1 COME ON EVERYBODY.   

At last Son 1 aged 3 and a half could load his 2 Bookstart bags full of toys, his Thomas the Tank Engine pull along suitcase full of toys, and his pirate box full of toys into the car for the taster day at the posh, inconvenient nursery.  We went with Wonder Nanny and Son 2.  Random play with anything to start off with… Son 1 went outside and played with sharks and whales and dolphins in a sand table filled with water, then a farm indoors, then an indoor sand pit, then a dolls house.  We then went up to their little canteen for lunch - they had three or four choices of main meals and he wanted everything.  He had Shepherd’s Pie and peas and rice and then pasta off my plate. Wonder Nanny started showing him how to use a knife and fork to eat the Shepherd’s Pie.  Ah. I’m supposed to move him off his spoon then now am I?  After lunch Wonder Nanny took Son 2 to try to get him to sleep, and Son 1 had more play… We ran around outside: “Mummy there are so many wonderful things to play with,” went back in and played with dinosaurs, played on a xylophone and read some books.  From what the other mums were doing, I think I was supposed to stand on the side and let him play with the other children.  Next time I will wear my “Working mother who feels she never has time to play with her child” tee shirt.  And then we went for a swim in their swimming pool, which Son 1 loved.  He just didn’t want to get out.  On the way back “Did you like the new nursery darling?” “Yes.”  “They had lovely toys, didn’t they?” “Yes.”  “Did you like the other children?” “No.”  “Do you think you’ll be friends with them in September?” “Yes.”

And then because that wasn’t enough for one day, we went over to Mum’s for dinner.  Wonder Nanny gave the boys some tea, I gave Son 2 a quick feed, piled them in the car and drove over. Younger Sister, Godfather 2 and Mother had visited a Garden, then Godfather 2 was cooking.  Son 1 had sausage and mash, and ate the mash and wanted seconds, and made pretty short work of the sausage as well.  Son 2 was just too tired, but enjoyed playing with Mum’s birthday balloon.  Son 1 chatted, ran in and out of the garden, did a new puzzle Mum bought him and played with the zoo I took over for Son 2.   On the way back Son 1 said “This has been a lovely day, hasn’t it Mummy?”