1.  How Many Independent Superwomen Does It Take To Change A Light Bulb?

2.  Leftovers

3.  Blue Glass

Just one.  Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah, Oh Yeah.  Get me.  The light over the dining table has been annoying me. As the years roll on, it’s become harder and harder to read my paper.  Poor light of course, not fading sight.  And then last night, on the first evening of The Man’s two-week absence, the bulb went.  Complicated.  Standing on table to dismantle overhead light fitting.  Staring at bulb the size of a motorbike headlight and wondering whether it comes apart any more.  Getting new one while carrying Son 2 aged 19m in my arms.   Requiring an old man in B and Q to go up a cherry picker to hunt along the Top Shelf.  Climbing up on table again.  Slotting, twisting, bodging, clicking.  And now it is Bright And Beautiful.  And I am Very Clever Indeed.  Yes I know to the casual observer this is just a lightbulb.  But to me, it’s more important than that.  It’s a Start.  

We took Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 19m to an Old Friend’s.  She has three sons, one a week older than Son 1, a three year old, and a four month old.  The elder three boys went instantly feral, and ran in and out of the large house and garden.  I went to investigate two huge patches of feathers spread underneath some trees.   Clearly a fox had taken a pigeon.  I was looking for blood, bones or giblets - anything that small boys shouldn’t really be seeing.  Nothing at all left but the feathers.   I took the rest of Sunday’s beef, and it was added to the lunch menu of roasted quail and freshly-baked bread.  At least the Mother said it was quail.  Could have been pigeon I suppose.   Our adult friends ate the quail and the beef. I ate the bread.  The boys ate Quavers and pizza.

At home Son 1 watched a DVD while Son 2 clung.  Wonder Nanny did tea.  I put the boys to bed, spoke to Younger Sister on the phone, and sorted out the recycling and bins. Then I did a bit of tidying.  My new mantra is: Eat A Bit Less; Spend a Bit Less; Tidy Up One Thing, Throw One Thing Out.  A Little And Often.  So, I was putting away the vases which loiter by our sink, which don’t really have a home because they’re big and fragile and need looking after properly.  And I broke my big blue one, which was my favourite.  And sliced my finger open on the broken glass.  There are still of course, Good Things.  First, it’s Recycling Day tomorrow, I can give it to the men on the wagon and ask them to sort it out. And Second, I’ve now proved that tidying up is dangerous.  I’d better leave it till The Man gets back.

1.  Action Man

2.  Crikey

3.  She Can’t Fly But I’m Telling You…

0605.  Son 2 aged 18m.  The usual. Downstairs for snacks and drinks.   Son 2 stopped off in the lounge.  Doing his little jig.  Over to the shelf with the DVDs on. Pointing. “Mama.”  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s put The Wiggles on.”   In the kitchen he disappeared out the back by the washing machine.  This means “I’ve got a good idea. Let’s go outside.”   Back upstairs The Man had a shower and first Son 1 aged 4y 6m, and then Son 2, got in and joined him.  And then they were back in the lounge. Both boys played with The Wooden Railway and I put The Wiggles on for Son 2. 

The boys went to the Aquarium today with Wonder Nanny, her Nanny friend, and the two little boys she looks after.  They went around twice.  They touched rays’ eggs and lobsters.  They saw the giant octopus out of its tank.  Son 2 loved it.  I came in just as the boys were finishing their tea. Son 1 acted out the giant octopus.  Son 2 tried to Go Outside.  “Can we play Pirate Snakes And Ladders now?” Son 1 asked Wonder Nanny.  We looked blank. “On top of my wardrobe.” Son 1 said helpfully.  “Where did we get Pirate Snakes and Ladders?” I asked. “When I was four.  From Best Friend.” “Have we played with it since then?” “Not for a long long time.”  I went up to the big bedroom and burrowed in the eave.  Son 1 did indeed get some presents for his birthday (and for Christmas) which we put away almost as soon as they were unwraped because he had so many.  He’d seen the Snakes and Ladder set in the Aquarium shop, and remembered it from six months back.   Crikey.

Son 2 howling with temper and tiredness at bedtime, so I picked digger books to make him feel better.  “Di Di Di Di” he now says when he sees the digger page.  “dum dum dum” for the dump trucks.  The words are coming through.  His bye bye is strange - a perfectly formed adult phrase delivered in an adult tone.  I will do another list of words.  I am still putting my head right into his cot to help send him off to sleep.  He has started slinging his arms round my neck, grabbing my hair and pulling me close.  I don’t see enough of him.  wednesday tomorrow, which is a Good Thing. And I got out for a run, which is another.

1.  Where Do The Children Play?

2.  The First Cut

3.  Hard Headed Women

Went down to The Museum with The Wednesday Friends.  We had a full house, thanks to an Inset Day, so the Eldest Boy, in full time school aged 4y 7m could come.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m wore his Captain Hook outfit.  Son 2 aged 17m just wanted to walk and walk.  3 4 year olds, a 3 year old and a 2 year old played, clung to mothers, fell out, fell over…. and the little toddler just toddled.  Out towards the windows.  Down the slopes to the lower floors.  Out to the lifts.  Up the stairs.  And, back down in The Square, off alongside The Museum to where The Man had dropped us all off.  Toddle toddle toddle.   At one point I had Son 1 snuggled up in The Big Pram and Son 2 on the reins.   Son 1 has always stayed close to heel.  For Son 2, There’s Such A Lot Of World To See.

On the way back we stopped in at the Hairdresser’s to see if they could give Son 1 a long overdue trim.  He is now too big for the little cars in front of the DVDs.  Pang.  Where did that go?  He sat on a special older child’s chair, watching Ratatouille, a Gold-Medal winning Pout on his face.  I chatted to the other hairdressers.  We decided they should trim Son 2’s fringe.  We sat him in the car.  He laughed and laughed at the joke.  When the scissors came near his head, he batted them away and tried to grab the hand wielding them.  Then he tried standing up, even though he was belted in.  Then he wanted to get down.  Then he wanted to get into the other car.  I caught his baby hair, and the salon owner put it in a money bag for me.  Son 1 gathered up two cupped handfuls of his hair from the floor and presented it to me.  I needed his hairdresser to tell me: “I think he wants you to keep his as well.”   We gazed in the nearby jeweller’s shop at the lockets in the window.   “Daddy will have to buy me one of those to keep your hair in,” I told Son 1.  “And I need one for my treasure chest,” he said.

Half price food at a local pizza place, so the two other Wednesday mums and I went out for a meal.  We discussed children and men, the days before we had our families,  childhoods, people we know and food and faddy eating.  And had a very nice time.

1.   Shouting Out

2.   Listening Up

3.   Quietening Down

So Son 1 aged 4y 4m had permission to creep in bed with Mummy and Daddy if he woke in the night.  He woke in the night and screamed The Terrace down.  Son 2 aged 16m woke and went into air-raid siren mode.  It was 3am.  I am now finding it difficult to set a good example of restraint under stress.  But looking on the bright side, when you’ve already decided your strategy is Giving Up, at least you don’t have to waste time Teaching Them To Sleep Independently (The Greatest Gift A Parent Can Give.)  I went into bed with Son 2 while The Man  took Son 1. 

Getting to  Son 1 before the After School Club closed was a Good Thing.  One of those “If the road is clear, if the clock is right, if nothing happens, if I can park” journeys.  I got there with about 4 minutes to spare, and Son 1 shone a smile at me and ran to find his things.  On the way back we listened to Peter Pan.  It was dark, Son 1 was silent, and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.  Back in street lit territory and I snatched a glance in the mirror.  Son 1 was sitting forward in his car seat, hands on his knees, leaning forward to listen, riveted.  We got to the house just as the Lost Boys shot Wendy. 

We were late back, and Son 2 was already upstairs with The Man.  We went up and obliterated The Man’s attempts to follow our routine.  Son 2 laughed, tottered, held out his arms, ran after Son 1, ran away from Son 1… The Man took Son 1 downstairs for tea.  Son 2 and I read books, and then I put him in the bath.  He’s such a poppet.  He’s just started shaking his head and nodding his head, only he does little, fast to-and-fro movements like he’s shaking water out of his ears.  I put him in the cot, did my singing and counting down and left him.  Not only did he lie down without trying to clamber out of the cot, but he also cried for less than 5 minutes after I’d gone.  A Good Thing.

1.  Capitulation

2.  Corruption

3.  Celebration

A New Family Rule.  If Little Children Want To Sleep With Their Parents They Can.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m thinks this is good idea.  “Is this because of me?”  “Yes,” I said.  No.  It’s because we had the most wretched night with Son 2 aged 16m.  Plot summary:  he wanted to lie in the big bed with a grown up;  I wanted him to sleep in his cot.    Neither The Man nor I sleep particularly well when we have a child with us.  And we both get grumpy when we don’t sleep.  So when Son 2 stood up and bayed at 2315, I tried to get him back to sleep.  He roared.  He shouted till his voice went hoarse.  He screamed and screeched and shrieked.  He woke Son 1.  He finally stopped at 1am.  i put Son 1 back in his bed.  Made hot chocolate.  And was then worried that something might be wrong with Son 2 so went into his room.  In the early hours he awoke again, and I just popped him into bed with me.  He went straight back to sleep.

We had Horrid Henry again on the way to Nursery.  I am going to retire him.  Too many: “Bor-ring”s and raspberries from Son 1.  I like to think a “You’re terrible parents” was rooted in Horrid Henry, rather than any seriously thought-through conclusion.  So at Ottakars I began the re-education programme.  We now have Peter Pan, Roald Dahl, and Stories For Five Year Olds.   Back from The Office, I walked in as Son 1 had just hit Son 2.  Oh somehow he got his new CDs.  “I hope you choose Peter Pan for us to listen to tomorrow,” I said.  “Which one do you want to hear?”  “Peter Pan,” said Son 1.  Hooray hooray.  We may yet get him back from Horrid Henry.

Reading to Son 1 after bathtime, I tried to get any information at all from him about his day at Nursery.  “Who did you sit with at lunch?”  “Can’t remember.”  “What did you do that was fun?” “Nothing.” ”What was your favourite bit of the day?”  “When Mummy came home.”  He deserved every one of those new CDs.

1.  Dreaming

2.  Dream Come True

3.  Nightmare

4am.  A shape by the side of the bed. Little fingers on my eyebrows.  I lifted Son 1 aged 4y 4 m over into the middle of the Big Bed.  Later, unable to get back to sleep, I got up to go downstairs.  “Mummy?” The little shape followed me down and we got into his bed.  Later, a terrified banshee scream from next door. I pelted in. Son 2 aged 16m was standing up in the corner of the cot.  I whipped him into bed and he went back to sleep.  On holiday in Portugal, I was in an Office suit, but no bra and no shoes.  I was carrying a small red ball.  I’d got on a bus and got off again, but I wasn’t sure where I was.   I needed to get back to get Son 1.  But I had no money and I couldn’t speak Portuguese.  I woke up.   Son 1 was standing on the landing. I went to him.  ”Let’s go downstairs,” I whispered. “Don’t wake Son 2.” He ignored me, clambered into the space I’d just vacated and cuddled Son 2.  Who giggled.

4.30pm. Heavy grey clouds hung low across the sky, thick snow whirled.  Son 1’s Nursery teacher rang.  “Can you come and get him?  We’re worried about the roads.”  By the time I got there the snow was thick on the ground, and there were only two other children left.  Outside, Son 1 was enchanted.  “I’ve always wanted snow haven’t I?” He tried throwing snowballs at me… but as he’s never made one he hasn’t quite got the knack.  He wanted to laugh and play.  I couldn’t see how we were going to get back.  I finally got him in the car and decided to try for home.  It was slow, it was horrible, snow fell continuously.  Before Son 1 was born I would have just gone back to The Office and stayed somewhere overnight.  I wouldn’t have been worried about making the trip with no snacks, blankets or water.  But That Was Then.

The main roads were worrying, but passable.  The Terrace was a snow sheet in the dark.  Son 1 was asleep.  I parked at the end, scuffed the snow away and realised I was on a double yellow line.  I rang The Man.  “There’s a space outside the house, just bring it up.”  I drove up the hill.  I double parked by the space and went to get The Man, thinking he’d be better at parking it than me.  I turned round and the car was rolling away from me backwards down the hill.  A young girl ran into the road to try to stop it.  “My son’s in there!” I shrieked.  “Jump in and put the handbrake on!” she said. “It is on!” I yelled.  I got to the door, leapt in, stood on the brake and yanked the handbrake up as hard as I could. The car stopped.  I looked back.  The girl and a man were standing behind the car.  I thanked them. “Are you all right?”  “No,” I was shaking.  Son 1 woke up and started to cry.   I drove a bit further up the hill and abandoned the car on the side of the road.  The Man opened the front door, holding Son 2 in his cotton pyjamas.  “What have you put it up there for?”  He’d looked out the window, seen me in the car outside, come downstairs and seen me take it up the hill.  Missing a teeny part of the story.

1.  First Flower

2.  Country Roads

3.  Night Nights

Son 1aged 4y 4m and I left for Nursery ten minutes earlier than usual.  He has had enough of The Pirate’s Hat And Other Stories… he has had enough of Horrid Henry.  So this morning it was the Famous Five and Treasure Island, free with a paper some time ago.  Son 1 calls it the Famous Fights.  “I wish I was called Georgina.  If I was called Georgina I will say everyone must call me George.”   He also wishes he had a boat, and an island.  And a dog of course.  We arrived in plenty of time, and so parked up the drive and walked down the Muddy Path.  And there, in among the sodden leaves, on a little clump of bright green foliage, was a single pale yellow primrose flower.  Spring Is Sprung.  

To make up for this morning, the roads were heaving this evening, so I decided to explore some back routes to get home.  Mistake.  Tiny, flooded, debris-strewn barely-maintained tracks switchbacking this way and that as the light faded.  We went for miles.  The Famous Five had found some Ingots in a dungeon on the Treasure Island.  A Baddy threatened to shoot Timmy the Dog.  We got back on the usual route and pulled round a group of three of four cars parked together at the side of the road, broken glass, crumpled bonnets, people milling.  Perhaps a Good Thing that we were a little later than them.

Son 2 aged 16m waved from the window as we pulled up outside the house (Thank You Parking Fairy.) He was on top form.  Laughing, squealing, insisting on being held and carried.  He mineswept Son 1’s leftover smoothie from the car, and ate nearly a whole satsuma from his picnic bag.  Son 1 refused tea but accepted a couple of pieces of fruit, and listened to the end of the Famous Five on a laptop upstairs.  Son 2 is still crying as soon as I say night night and leave him in his cot.  Son 1, who used to send The Man packing when I went to see him for his bedtime stories, now says “Oh Mummy, you’ve come at exactly the wrong time.”  He fell asleep during Fairy Child.

1.  Extra Boy

2.  Mummy’s Boy

3.  Best Friends

A Friend was up for An Outing. First suggestion too expensive, second suggestion they’d already done.  Son 1 butted into all the discussions and phone calls.  He wanted to go to the New Play Centre.  I pretended not to hear. (Can’t stand it.)  The Mother of Son 1 aged 4y 4m’s Best Friend rang.  Best Friend had been whinging all morning, driving them mad.  He wanted to see Son 1.  What were we up to?  Could she bring him round and then she’ll have Son 1 overnight next weekend?  The New Play Centre it was.   Son 1 and the other Little Friend played together, Son 2 played in the baby area, the Ball Pool and the Toddler Section.  He rocked and pulled off and climbed and threw and slid and rode.  The Man talked Boats with Little Friend’s father.  Best Friend arrived.  Play. Lunch. Play.

Best Friend came back to the house, and hooray hooray, Son 1’s new Scooby Doo DVD had arrived.  That was them sorted.  I put Son 2 to bed.  Nappy change, in his sleeping bag, and then I put him in his cot. “I’m just going to do the window, and then I’ll come back and Son 2 and Mummy will have a sleep on the bed.”  For the first time he sat burbling instead of screaming as I pulled down the blind and put the blanket up. (Stuffed along the top of the roller and draped down the sides.  Son 2 does not sleep if there is Any Light At All.)  We snugged down together on the bed.  He hugged and held and scrunched his fists in my hair… and pressed his head against my cheek and clung.  And he’s lovely and cuddly, and we miss each other and I’ve decided.  When I’m off, he goes to sleep in the daytime by lying next to me.

Son 1 and Best Friend were having an elaborate game involving the Scooby Doo monsters, the Scooby Friends, all Son 1’s pirates, Captain Hook’s ship, the Lost Boys raft, the Woollies Pirate ship, the Tower of Doom and the ELC monsters.  Captain Hook was sitting in the front of the Mystery Machine with Shaggy and Scooby.   The DVD finished and the pirates paraded around the house.  They were warned off upstairs, but a jam on the toy keyboard woke Son 2.  I took him in the lounge and they melted away to Son 1’s bedroom.  Best Friend’s Mother came to collect him. I heard her ask Son 1: “Would you like to come and stay with Best Friend next weekend?”  “Will Mummy and Daddy be there?”  he replied.  Bit of work to do on that one, then.  At bedtime, when I left Son 2 in his cot, he screamed Blue Murder.

1.  The Flight

2.  The Pirate Ship

3.  Do You Believe In Fairies? 

The Man is not coming back today.  “The aeroplanes are full,” as I told Son 1 aged 4yr 3m this morning.  Howl.  “I want his body!” Wail. ”I want his T-shirt!” Curl up on the floor.  At that moment, The Man rang.  Son 1 gave him both barrels, fired straight at the guilto-plexus. Until Son 2 aged 16m snatched the phone from him, and waddled back and forth, chattering gibberish while Son 1 ululated in the corner.  Son 1’s day bumped along the bottom.  His Best Friend couldn’t come round because his Mother is ill.  Howl. Wail.  Curl.  His longed-for Scooby Do and the Pirates DVD didn’t come, despite a Royal Mail van parking outside and my calling “Son 1! Your parcel’s here!”  The driver smoked a fag, picked up a postman in the rain and pulled away.  Howl. Wail. Curl.

On The Bright Side.  A little 3 year old Friend and his Mother came round, and the boys played.   The Captain Hook Ship and The Lost Boys’ Raft stayed out - they can’t survive the wildebeest stampede that is 5 small boys at play… but three is manageable, so I didn’t hide them.    After they left Son 2 had a nap and a colleague from The Office came round, bringing biscuits and a chocolate cake for Son 1.  The colleague wanted to see the new dress and shoes I bought in The Sales.  I left her with Son 1, dashed to the bedroom, dressed up and tottered down in my finery.  The colleague coo-ed.  Son 1 sprang from his chair and gave me a huge hug.  “Do I look like a Princess?” I asked.  He just laughed.  But he made me feel like one.

Nanna came.  Son 2 played with the electric James and Percy engines.  Son 1 lay on the window seat  spearing a Tinkerbell finger puppet with 2 Woolies Ghost Pirates.  Nanna parked close to the house. I’ve been thanking the Parking Fairy when I get a space near.   “Is the Parking Fairy real?” asked Son 1.  “No,” I said. “It’s just Mummy’s bit of fun.”  Although, oddly, since I’ve been thanking the Parking Fairy, I’ve been able to park a lot closer to the house.  I was telling Nanna this when Son 1said “I don’t believe in fairies.”  “Oh no!” I said.  “Quick, clap.  Otherwise a fairy will…”  Son 1 made a spiral motion with his finger and pointed to the floor.  We clapped.  Son 2 joined in. Son 1 lay on his back giggling.  “I don’t believe in fairies”  Mad clapping, mad laughing.  “I don’t believe in fairies.” Mad clapping. Mad laughing.  Repeated many times.  Until: “Son 1 will you pack it in. What am I going to do if the fairy who - ” spiral motion, point to the floor ” - is the Parking Fairy?”