1.  Lost And Found

2.  Delicious

3.  Two Little Monkeys Bouncing On The Bed

Very Tired Indeed.   Grumped out of bed this morning, cold-ridden, knackered, children chatting with The Man downstairs.  Ran tap, put contact lenses in.  Pulled out plug.  Shut one eye.  Opened it.  Shut the other eye.   Opened it.  Something not right.  One lens missing.  I checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, my nightie, the floor.  I froze.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m called me.  “Get Daddy,” I called back.  “He’s downstairs!” “Tell him I need him!”  The Man tramped up, grumpling.  He’d left Son 2 aged 16m in the kitchen, on his own,  three flights down.  He tramped down again.  And tramped up again,  grumbling loudly, carrying Son 2.  He checked the basin, the surrounds, the contact lens case, me, the floor.  He took the sink to bits.  I was still motionless.  No spares. How-much-are-contact-lenses/how-long-will-a-new-one-take/when-the-hell-will-I-be-able-to-get-a-new-one/how-will-I-see/how-will-I-work/how-will-I-drive.  “Found it!” chirped Son 1 cheerfully, diving into the corner.   By George he’d Got It.  He wins a Scooby Do Pirate Dvd.  I clapped him.  And dropped the lens again.  The Man grumbled murderously.

A late afternoon appointment in The Town, so I picked Son 1 up early-ish.  The children  were watching Tom and Jerry. When we went to get his coat there was a basin of apple chunks, and lots of little plastic plates and beakers arranged round tables.  “Were you about to have a snack?” “Yes.  A biscuit.”  “Why don’t you ask if you can have one in the car?” “You ask.”  I did.  The Assistant then produced a large plate of fairy cakes, topped with more icing than cake.  Son 1 helped himself.  In the car he told me about his snacks.  “We have banana and orange and apple and sometimes for a special treat mango. ” A pause.  ”This cake is delicious.”

At home Son 2 ignored me for the first 10 minutes and then wouldn’t let me go.  He was exhausted, so I sat him on the bed and started his books.  Son 1 came and bounced on the bed.   “You can be with us if you sit still and keep quiet.”  He sat quietly next to us.  Son 2 climbed over me and plopped his head between the pillows.  Then he lay on top of Son 1.  Son 1 giggled.  He piled pillows on  top of Son 2.  Son 2 giggled.  End of reading.  Cuddling, squashing, laughing, pushing.  Son 2 stood up and bounced.  Uncontrolled delight from Son 1.  He was carried off to the bath by The Man.  Son 2 carried on bouncing.  He wouldn’t go back to his books, and wriggled off to the bathroom. A cry rang out from Son 1: “We just want to bounce!”

1. After The Shot

2. Spot A Lot

3. Got Shot

Son 2 aged 14m up at 0515.  Maybe-he’ll-roll-over-and-go-back-to-sleep-for-the-first-time-ever, I drowsed.  Louder.  More insistent.  I sent The Man downstairs.  Son 2 cannot be rewarded with Mummy for Night-time Waking.  The Man went into  Son 2’s room, and the roof blasted off into orbit. Agitated, furious, inconsolable and atom-crackingly loud.  I went downstairs. The Man gave me Son 2.  He was instantly silent.   I put him in the bed with me and he went back to sleep.   I’m sure it’s the MMR.  He’s so little and I bet the dose is enough to immunise all those whopping 100-centile babies.  All I really want to do is snuggle up in bed with him.  But I know I’ll regret it because I won’t get enough sleep.  When we get on top of our money again I want a massive bed big enough for 4.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m was up late and whingeing and whining about going to Nursery. “I don’t want you to go to work,” he sobbed at the top of his voice.  They swap tips like that at playtime at Nursery.  “And then, if you really want to make them feel crap, make a couple of tears roll out of the corners of your eyes while you yell it in your shakiest voice.”  In the car he cheerfully spotted lorries, police cars, post vans and dogs, while singing his song about how happy he is. 

Late picking him up, quelle surprise.  He chattered all the way home.  We spotted stars, and sang Twinkle Twinkle.  The street light outside our house has been out of action for a couple of days now.  This is a Good Thing.  We can see stars in the sky above the river outside.  Son 2’s bedroom is darker, which I think may be helping him stay settled in the evenings again.  The dawns are better, blue-grey light fading up against deep dark clouds.  And the full moon was more spectacular too.  We’ve been here eight years and the street light has obliterated all that… so I’m rather hoping council cost-cutting will keep it switched off.

1.  Manoeuvres In The Dark

2.  Jumping

3.  Jamming

i slept badly, got up in the end and did about 2 hours’ Office work in the middle of the night.  Not a good sign.  I got back to sleep and then Son 1 aged 4y 1m appeared and clambered into my side of the bed.  “You’llhavetoclimbover,” I mumbled, unable to move.  He climbed over, The Man got out the other side.  Head on the pillow, next to our heads.  Legs pointing downwards.  That is how you get 3 in a bed, Son 1.  If you continually insist on sleeping with your head against Mummy and your feet against Daddy then one of your parents can’t stay.    

Son 2 aged 14m was up at 0630.  I am craving time with him at the moment, so it’s great it’s the weekend.  A Nursery Day for Son 1, so another brisk take-no-prisoners-zoom-out-the-house morning.  The journey was fine, we got there in plenty of time and parked near the mushrooms, with Son 1 skipping and jumping along the path, making fun noises, skidding on the mud, stopping to peer into tree trunks and trace out the letters on the road signs.  Smiling and laughing “Look at me, I can jump as high as that branch”  Jump.  About two inches.  Full of joy, he’s an absolute delight.

Late to get him again. In the car on the way home he sang: “I’m happy all day, happy all night.  Happy, happy happy happy.  Sometimes I’m sad, sometimes I’m cross, but I’m happy happy happy all day.”  “That’s a lovely song, did you learn it at Nursery?”  “No, I maked it up.  I’m happy all day, happy all night, sometimes there’s a frown on my face but it’s all right. I’m happy at my friends’ house, I’m happy in my house, I’m happy in my Nursery, I’m happy in boats, I’m happy in shops, I’m happy shopping.”  All the way home.  Jamming to himself.  We got back, I parked, he got out of the car and ran down The Terrace singing “I’m happy all day, I’m happy all night.” Went into the house, lay on the floor with his cheek on the lino and carried on singing.

1.  The Most Beautifully Behaved

2.  The Most Tired.

3. The Most Deserving

Son 1 aged 4y 1m got Star of The Week at Nursery.  Knock me down with a feather.  He sat in the car all the way there on Monday and talked non-stop about how he wanted to be Star of The Week.  And today, there he is, with his sticker and his certificate.  Named called in assembly, up to the front, children and teachers clapping.  “How did you feel when they called your name?” I asked.  “Happy,” he smiled. His certificate says “for trying very hard and behaving beautifully all week.”  I have told The Man it would be good to see him winning next week.

The Man is back.  Nice to see him.  We have been engaged in a game of competitive tiredness.  He has driven overnight but slept in the daytime from 11am till Son 1 scurried upstairs to get him at 5 pm.  I got five hours sleep last night but have worked all day and all evening.  And the  Certificate goes to….    Mummy.

I had a phone call from an Old Friend, a twenty-something we’ve known since she was eight years old.  She rang my mobile, and then texted.  “I can ring you back at 11am,” I texted.  I finally rang her back at 7.30pm. Second boy born nearly three weeks ago.   And he has reflux.  We had a long chat.  She’s giving him formula just to settle him; he’s bringing up the breast milk.  She’s got Gaviscon but they’re having problems getting in.  And he howls all night.   I suggested she gives the Gaviscon before or during the feed… that she mixes it with milk - formula, or if she wants to try to help her supply - expressed milk.  And to hassle the health service again so she gets some help.  It was very nice to hear her voice, but she sounds worn out.  Might let the Who’s The Most Tired certificate go to the New Mummy.

1.  Early reading

2.  Flashing Blue Lights

3. Down In The Cot

Son 2 aged 13m started off in his cot but wailed long and loud at some time post-midnight.  I had taken a whacking slug of Night Nurse so The Man went to the rescue.  In the morning we were all up late. I felt a lot better this morning… some clear blue water now between me and death’s door.  Son 2’s started having an opinion on which books we should do in the morning.  Today’s favourite was the little Word book… pictures of things to do with The Park, The Beach, The Farm, Wild Animals etc.  I think he’s using it and other similar books like dictionaries.  He sits very still staring at the pictures and listening to the words.  And then at the end flips the pages back to his favourite ones.

In the car, Son 1 aged 4y 1m played with his flashing blue light sabre from last night.  He was late for Nursery, and clung and clung.  He wants Son 2 to go to Nursery with him.  He wants to stay at home with Wonder Nanny and Son 2.  Oh boy.    I really do think he’d be bored at home, but maybe the New Nursery is just too far and too school-like.  The Office was, as usual, like stepping inside a mad computer game where for every one thing you successfully swat, three more leer up laughing.  For nine hours.  I staggered out, got into the car and drove home, remembering this time to put my headlights on.  A blue flashing light followed me for many miles.  Till I realised Son 1’s light sabre had bumped itself on in the rear passenger footwell.  

The Tumble Drier man came while I was at The Office.  It’s mended, hooray.  And Wonder Nanny made muffins and minestrone soup while Son 2 was sleeping.   Son 2 was being bathed when I got back.  Son 1 was playing with a Pirate spotting book I bought from an Usbourne woman’s stall.  I cuddled Son 2, sang him his lullaby, gave him his milk and PUT HIM DOWN IN HIS COT hooray hooray.  Much excitement.  I can’t remember the last time I put him to sleep in his cot - not since well before I stopped feeding him.  I gave up at the point where I just couldn’t feed him to sleep any more, so it must be a couple of months.  He woke up once just as I’d finished with Son 1, and he yelled and yelled so I had to start again with him.  But he’s been sleeping there quietly so far for the rest of the evening so far…

1.  Stirrings

2.  Back to School

3.  Sprint Finish

It was hell getting Son 2 aged 13m down in the cot last night - took more than half an hour - but he stayed in till nearly 6am, which I am counting as a second night sleeping through.  If he makes it tonight I will start seeing if I can put him down in the cot, rather than leaving him lying on a double bed with pillows either side.  He was hungry and he was thirsty.  A clear, definite “Na na” Which he ate in less than five minutes once we were downstairs.  He was brilliant for his books this morning, sitting still for The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Well most of it.  As soon as the pages you can stick your fingers in had gone, he was off.  His favourite is still the animals book.  He can now fling his arm up for the elephant, make fish mouth noises and roar like a lion.  There is a little confusion between the noises for a duck’s quack quack and a crocodile’s snap-snap but it’s easily done.  He is also definitely yeh yeh ing, and nnnnnn ing. And Ma Ma has returned, but with considerably more “SORT ME OUT NOW” welly.

We were a bit worried about Son 1 aged 4 y 1m going back to Nursery, because with his two-week half term and his ear infection it’s been three weeks.  He was ok.  He made me park way up the entrance road, and we arrived just as the children were sitting down for the register.  He plonked himself down on the floor and gazed up at the teacher as if I wasn’t there.  Wonder Nanny picked him up and said the teacher had said he’d been very tired in the afternoon.  Again, it’s the playground.  Too noisy.   

Other good things: my computer came back from the mender’s, which will make The Office a bit easier, because I can work in the evenings again, hooray hooray.  We have a number for a chiropodist for The Man’s sore feet.   Wonder Nanny has sent off the registration form for Ofsted.  We’ve accepted a party invitation for Son 1.  “That’s good news, isn’t it Mummy?”  He’s getting the hang of this.  And Son 2 stole the show.  As he was exhausted, I held him under his armpits to let him practise walking - one of his favourite things, and I thought if he did his usual hold-on-to-my-fingers-walk he’d stumble and get fed up.  When he felt the extra support he just sprinted.  Up and down the kitchen like Forest Gump, with me having to do a running, bent-over waddle to keep up with him.  He chortled and squealed and laughed and laughed.  So did Son 1.  I knew we were in for it when he finally walks… it never occurred to me that it will in fact be much worse when he can RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN.

1.  Hothead

2.  The Mouse

3.  The Squid

The middle of the night.  Many times.  Son 1 aged 4 cried in arpeggios, getting louder and higher with each one.  I stood in the bedroom door hissing at him: “Go to sleep.  Mummy isn’t coming in with you.  You’re being selfish and naughty.”  I went into him.   He was burning up. I gave him a yard of ibuprofen.  Back in with Son 2 aged 13m, whom I’ve not been able to get into the cot at all since his two-hour evening fight against sleep.  Son 2 whinged me awake at 0630.  Son 1 cried, said his ear hurt, didn’t want to go to Nursery, wouldn’t eat breakfast.  “You’ve only got to do today and tomorrow.  And you’ve got swimming today and tomorrow.  And then you’re coming back after lunch tomorrow for  X’s party. And then you’ve got two weeks off and Mummy’s off next week.”  Off we went to Nursery.

They rang at 10.  Son 1 was pale, crying, saying his ear hurt, really not himself.  Can I come and get him.  I rang the doctor.  No-one could see him.  Bring him to a nurse at 1440, and she can see if he needs a doctor. He was asleep on some cushions in the little library corner when I got there.   I took him back to The Office, as I had a meeting I couldn’t avoid.  There was a birthday, and he helped himself to a huge doughnut.  The Office receptionist looked after him. When I came back he was sitting on her knee playing games on the CBeebies website. Which he’d told her about.  He printed off some colouring pictures at my desk.  I didn’t even know he could use a mouse  -  I’ve deliberately kept him away from computers

The Nurse said she wasn’t qualified to look in his ear.  She did anyway, and said it was a bit pink.  She put him on the Duty Doctor’s list for him to call us.  At home Son 2 had a Mr Bump plaster on his thumb.  Older Mother Thing: I don’t think I can see well enough to cut Son 2’s fingernails.  Plus I hate it. It’s like trying to trim the tentacle ends on a very small, very strong, very wriggly squid.  I asked Wonder Nanny to do it.  A little snip on the end of his thumb.  Unfair to blog it.  An east-facing house can get very dark on gloomy days.  And in a lap, on a nappy mat, or on a bed,  Son 2 whirls round like a drill bit.  We got a few spaghetti hoops inside Son 1, whilst all the time Son 2 tried to grab his food.  I did the baths.  The Duty Doctor didn’t ring.  The Man came home.  He is not useless, Carasmum, he is just easily tired.

1.  The Nightwatch

2.  Travelling Hopefully

3.  Can’t Catch Me

Another night from hell.  Son 2 aged 1 was up, with dirty nappy.  I’ll leave it, I thought.  He’s got weapons-grade nappy cream on, and he’ll wake the whole house if I try and change it.  And he then, shall we say, produced, again.  The Pampers hasn’t yet been designed that could absorb two of Son 2’s offerings.  The Man heard the racket, and came down to take over at the business end while I cuddled Son 2, to disguise the fact that I was trying to stop his compulsive cork-screwing.  Son 1 aged 4 woke up.  He went in with The Man in The Big Bed.  Son 2 slept. Son 1 hollered for “Mum-meeee.” I went upstairs.  The Man said “Do you want me to go down and sleep with Son 2?”  While I considered, a little voice piped up between us:  “yes” and skinny small arms snaked round me.   

So we all woke up really late.  I rang Son 1’s Nursery. “Take your time, have another coffee, have a lie down,” they said.   All I had time to do was shower, get dressed, get my make up on, dress Son 1 and shoo us out of the house.      Son 1 was given ham, breadsticks and a banana to eat in the car.  Won’t eat the ham = white bits in it. At the Nursery he wouldn’t get out of the car.  Clutching stomach. “My tummy aches. I ate my banana too fast.”  I coaxed him in and called later to make sure he was ok.  He was playing in the toy shop, selling fruit and vegetables.

The Office was a blur today, and I got home well after tea.  Son 1 was distraught because I haven’t made it over to the Wooden Toy Shop to get his bow and arrow.  Son 2 had rejected his baby meal, had demanded the pasta and pesto that Son 1 was eating and was stuffing fistfuls in his mouth.  From somewhere he has got the idea that everything Son 1 eats is tastier than his food.   Son 2 was crawling on the floor so I chased him upstairs on all fours, him laughing and laughing.  Son 1 played quite a few games with him  - and Son 2 responded… which was great.  He’s been so off recently that Son 1 had been starting to whine “he doesn’t like me.”  A great relief all round to find that he clearly does. 

1.  Blur

2.  Breathless

3.  Bliss

A bit of a grind at The Office. Had to go early because of VIP visitors, and then had two hour presentation at lunchtime.  Non stop.  So, didn’t feel I saw very much of Son 1 aged 3 y 10m or Son 2 aged 10m this morning.  Fed Son 2, got him downstairs, posted another spoonful of food in his mouth every time I whirled past his high chair, and then fled upstairs to get ready as soon as I’d packed his lunch.  Then out of the house, waving goodbye to The Man, standing there holding Son 2, and Son 1 running to the gate in his socks to wave back.

Finally after all the action, I was tearing round The Big Town gathering stuff for The Man’s birthday. He rang.  He was busy.  Could I get the boys from nursery.  Er.. no.  Still too much to do left back at The Office.  Fine.  He will have to get them, wait till I’m home and then go back to work.  Then Glamorous 22 year old Graduate (not a student any more) rang. At work in The Happening Town, but feeling unwell.  Came to The Big Town on the bus, and I gave her a lift back to The Town.  Which made me very late indeed.

Feeding Son 2, my mind in a fizzy fit over everything that happened today, and everything I still had to do.  And then… little eyelashes on a pale cheek, the feel of a fat little arm against mine… the size of a little fist compared with my hand, a stroke of the soft downey head… and very slowly I came back to the present.  I always (try to) feed Son 2 to sleep, and then I stand up, and his head flops over to my right shoulder; his sign that he’s ready to go in his cot.  Some nights I can’t get away from him, but tonight he was exhausted after nursery and was comatose when I pulled the cot side up.  And went in to Son 1 for a round of Pumpkin Soup.  The Best You Ever Tasted.   

1.  Call Guinness

2.  Notice

3. Apples

Son 2 aged 10m slept through until Son 1 aged 3 y and 10m, and I woke him at 0650.  The Man is away. I got downstairs at 0620 without waking either child, which gave me chance to get Son 2’s lunchbox together.  And a coffee.  A wraith in white pyjamas appeared: “Mummy I can’t wait till my birthday.” ”Hello darling.  Where’s Son 2?”  “Fast asleep.”  Son 2 doesn’t do fast asleep.  He does light sleep, dog dozing, cat naps, power naps, 40 winks, WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING? and COME BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.  I pootled about for a bit, and then my nerve failed me.  I went up the stairs,  worried sick about what I’d find in the cot.  He was, indeed, fast asleep.  And then two big dark eyes snapped open.  

The jolly nursery nurse is free on Son 1’s birthday afternoon, so she’s booked.  I gave his month’s notice today - he starts at the Posh, Outstanding, Inconvenient Nursery next month.  Pang.  It doesn’t seem a minute since I stood there, clueless, in a skirt suit, four months pregnant and booking my back-to-work childcare.  A small child crawling on the floor handed me a toy.  “Oh thank you,” I said.  “A stripey hippo.”  “It’s a Fimble,” the nursery nurse said.  And now I  know the names of all the Fimbles.  And their toys.    

The Man wasn’t back in time to get the boys, so I collected them.  I went in, said a cheery hello, and then heard a familiar banshee wail.  Son 2, disintegrating at the sound of my voice.  In the car, Son 1 rifled through the shopping bag and snaffled an apple.  Son 2 stared, smacking his lips.  So I nibbled off a side of skin and gave him one too.  But the reason Son 2 likes apples is he likes biting off the skin and spitting it out down his top.  And he’s not quite there with the tongue control. All I could hear in the back seat of the car was him gagging.    Two stops later I got him home alive, vowing not to do that again.   And The Man got back for bathtime.