1.   Hoarse

2.   Croaking

3.   Rasping

I’ve got a throat infection from somewhere. Voice has gone, feeling hot and bothered and sleepy. Hey ho. I spent today travelling back after a night away because of an Office Thing yesterday.  I was with three colleagues, so I didn’t have to drive. We spent hundreds of miles talking, eating sherbert lemons and ringing our mates. I was aiming at a 3.15pm appointment at Son 1 aged 5’s School - the replacement appointment for the Parents’ evening I can’t make.  I got to the School in time, and then got stuck in the queue of cars waiting to go in. Another advantage to being  a Working Mother. You have genuinuely no idea what happens at the end of the school day.

Mrs Smiley the Teacher was lovely. Happy with Son 1’s reading, maths, communication, It, arts and crafts and PE.  He is Popular And Has Lots Of Friends. A bit of a discussion about how sometimes he seems dreamy, unresponsive and slow to respond. Not as smiley on some days.  How’s his sleeping? Does he share a room with Son 2?  Ah, I croaked. We have had rather a mad Birthday Fest September.  He could be… er.. knackered. “Well I wouldn’t of course say that…” she said. Subtext: That’s Exactly What I Mean.   Poor old Son 1. And then of course I forgot to mention the midnight bed-hopping. “What is the first thing in your head when you wake up at night?” I asked once, wondering if he was having bad dreams. “I think: ‘I’ll go and find Mummy,’” he said. 

Son 1 was excited because he’s completed his third sticker chart. As we drove back I asked him how he’d  got on that morning with Granny and Daddy when I was away. “Don’t know.”  “Was it brilliant, all right, or Truly Terrible.” “Truly Terrible.” “What about last night?”  “That was Truly Terrible too.” Son 2 aged 2 was delighted to see me, and then wouldn’t let go.  Neither he nor Son 1 like my creature-from-the-black-lagoon voice.  Granny had made them individual cottage pies for tea, and they did all right.    Nanna rang. Teenaged Niece is staying for a College Open Day. Can we see them tomorrow. We are taking Granny back to the Airport, but we will try, I said.

1.  Energy = Mass Times The Speed Of Light Squared

2.  Bonded Particles

3.  Planetary Movements

I have been awake forever.  Bring chocolate.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m arrived in the Big Bed at 2am.  He woke me at 4am, and I couldn’t get back to sleep.  I tiptoed in to Son 2 aged 15m’s room and got into bed.  He stayed asleep, I stayed awake. I  went downstairs at 0520.  Put some washing on, hung some washing out.  Emptied dishwasher.  Made sandwiches.  Drank coffee.  Had breakfast.  Read Sunday Times.  Made snack box for Son 1 after Nursery.  So easy this work and child-rearing thing. Just skip the sleep and the rest falls into place.

Two penguin dances this morning.  Son 1’s was in the bathroom, trying to distract Son 2 so he’d let me put a nappy on.  If a tuning fork lifted its prongs up one at a time, very fast, it would look a bit like Son 1’s rigid-legged, madly-paced tap dance.  And then Son 2, in his usual skewwhiff-didn’t-catch-me nappy, copied.  Laughing, staring up at Son 1 with his “you’re fantastic” look on.  Holding hands, bumping over.  One sight of me approaching with a baby vest and off he zoomed towards the stair gate.

It was just about light when I parked the car to pick Son 1 up.  Two weeks past the solstice and already I can just about tell that the days are getting longer again.  Good Thing.  Spring is on the way, hooray.  The Man and I have worked out why it’s so cold.  It’s Winter.  Son 1 and I headed home in the gloom, a bright, low light in the sky which I assume was Venus.  In the old days I’d know.  We were late, surprise surprise, way past Wonder Nanny’s home time.  But there she was just leaving as we parked the car.  Instantly I mentally blamed The Man - he’s back late, she’s had to wait - but no, she’d been hanging on to see Son 1 because she’s missed him.  Son 2 giggled, pleased to see me, but then exploded into his biggest, loudest, longest tantrum yet.  Being positive, there are probably now several small Universes in existence that weren’t there before.  Pang pang pang.  He was so tired, and he was so pleased to see us, and he just lost it and was overwhelmed with crashing emotions.  I put him in the bath and ran the shower and we got him back in the end.

1.  Little Yellow Book

2.  Cuckoo

3.  Late Lambs

Son 2 aged 15m enjoyed his books this morning. We do five if we can… today we got up to seven before he decided to crawl off towards the bathroom.  He pointed and “Am-ma”-d at the book shelf, and then tottered over, reached up, and picked his favourite animal picture book.  Baby Bright.  We sit there flipping through pictures of a horse, a fox, an owl, a parrot, guinea pigs, a zebra, a lion, a dog, a penguin.  Son 2 loves the fish.  Am-ma is his current word for… everything really.  Milk. Mummy.  Fetch that. I dropped that.  I want to switch the light on and off.  He is also doing Uh-Oh if he drops something, and Ah-lo for hello.  Various snap snap quack quack noises for crocodiles and ducks.  Just yesterday and today I’ve noticed him trying to make new sounds.  Maybe that’s why he falls over when he’s walking.

Sickness has gripped The Office, so it was intense and fast-paced with every minute over-filled.    A long, hard day.  I was so late back.  Boys in pyjamas, playing, staying up waiting for me.  Son 2 was legging it for the top flight of stairs as I came up towards the landing.  “Cuckoo,” I said, from the stairs below him, peering through the bannisters.  ”Ah-lo,” he said and carried on trying to escape upstairs.  I took him up while I changed.  He grapped a remote, climbed on a toybox and tried to switch the telly on.  “Am-ma,” he pointed “Am-ma.”  I picked him up and took him downstairs and he launched into a high-Richter tantrum.  I couldn’t cuddle him, I could barely hold him. Plank boy, horizontal in my arms, head thrown back, heart pounding in his little boy chest. I got him back with his animal book, but then when we stopped reading, he tried paddying again.  I put him in the cot and he passed out within minutes.  Overtired.  The  vaccination on Thursday. He’s just not himself.

I’ve changed the name of the blog.   I have a colleague who’s worked in South Africa.   Way before the boys, I remember him talking about an expression there for a child born to an older mother.  A Late Lamb.  It came back to me after Son 1 aged 4y 2m was born.  I like it.  A Spring in the Autumn feel.  Like my boys.

1.  Kip

2.  Visitors

3.  Kip

The moment, at 1am, when The Man took over Son 2 aged 10m who had been howling for two hours, was a Good Thing.  Jaysus, once that child gets over-tired there is nothing to be done with him.  I held him ,I rocked him, I lay beside him on the double bed.  Each time he went to sleep, and each time, as soon as I put him in the cot… MELTDOWN.   So loud it hurt my teeth. And then he woke up again at 0530.  And so did Son 1 aged 3y 10m.  The day began.

Murky rain.  One set of Wednesday friends went off to see grandparents today.   So the others came round here.  “Don’t get out the pirate stuff,” I said to Son 1.  “It’s too dangerous for Son 2 and the nearly-2 year old little brother.”  So he got the pirate stuff out.  There is tons of it.  Peter Pan pirates, Playmobil pirates, pirates from France, Ghouly pirates from Woolies… all with their own little guns and cuffs and paddles and swords.  Collecting up the tiny coins from a Playmobil treasure chest, I wondered aloud what kind of oddball toy designer inserts something into little children’s homes specifically aimed at choking their smaller siblings.  “Just write 4+ on the package, it’ll be fine.”  “And what are you eating?” I asked Son 2.  I fished in his mouth.  A tiny coin from a Playmobil treasure chest.   

Son 1’s sleep was very disturbed by the midnight banshee, and he was shattered today.  Misbehaving monstrously while our friends were here: “I’ve never seen him like this before,” said the other mum.  So after they left I put Son 2 to bed, and then him.  Both asleep at 2.30.  I cleared up the lunch things, tidied the toys, did some washing, sorted the veg box and made dinner.  Braised beef and sweet potato. 2nd stage weaning. Annabel Karmel.  I quadrupled the quantities to make enough for Mother, Son 1 and Son 2 for dinner, and then to freeze for baby food.  The Man rang.  He had planned an overnight business trip but cancelled because of the weather.  He’ll try again tomorrow.   He thought the casserole was nice.  A bit sweet, but very nice.