1.  Walking pace

2.  Normal Walking

3.  Nearly Walking

Getting to Nursery On Time was a Good Thing.  I was out of the door at exactly the right time to jump in the car and go, and get to Nursery avoiding the glacially-paced Monday traffic.  “Where’s the car?” I called to The Man, who’d parked it on Saturday.  “Outside XXX and YYYs,” he said.  XXX and YYY are friends who live 10 minutes’ walk away.  Oh dear.  I wasn’t a very good Example For The Children.  However.  The conclusion is that the longer, rural route to the Big Town is faster than the normal way, despite the mile-long crawl near the Industrial Estate.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m got there in time for the Hellos.

I had to pick him up again at 1.30pm because he had an appointment with a paediatric physio.  I think his right foot flays out when he runs.  She asked me lots of questions, watched him sit, walk and run, and then moved his legs up and down while he was lying on a couch.   She says both feet flay out, but when he’s walking both feet are turned in.  His hip joints in the sockets turn in, so his thighs turn in when he’s tired, so his lower legs flay out.   Stop him sitting in a “W” - which he’s done since he was a baby; he need to be cross-legged.  And get him to stand on one leg, and hop, when he can (he can’t yet.)   In the range of normal, but he’s never going to be an athlete.  Dang, and there’s us with athletes on both sides of the family.  Was it because he was breech? I asked.  She didn’t think so, it’s hereditary.  Somewhere on either side there is another “W” sitter.  It’s just how he is.

Back home and Son 2 aged 14m is almost ready to lift off.  He can comfortably walk eight or ten paces… and managed to slalom through a doorway this evening to get to me when I went upstairs.  He can walk many steps, several times in a row before he pretends to lose interest, plops down on his bottom and goes crawling off to change the subject.  He gives himself a clap before he starts, and then steps out confidently until he lets himself fall into the arms of whoever’s in goal.  And when he totters over to Son 1’s outstretched arms and plops on top of him at the end Mummy’s heart turns to mush.

1.  Hours

2.  Minutes

3.  Days

Son 2 aged 14m made it through the night again, hooray hooray.  We had a slow but busy start.  Son 2 went back to bed at about 9.  I spoke to the Wednesday Friends, down to the Museum.  The Booming Business Mother is in the Southern Hemisphere on Glamorous Work Assignment, but will be represented by her children and husband.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m and I waited till Son 2 woke up.  He watched telly, I tidied and cleaned.  We all trailed out with the Big Pram at about 11am.  A traffic warden was writing down details of my car, parked in the one hour spaces, restricted after 9am.  What idiot left it there without moving it?  Ar.  Traumatic trip home last night.  Gridlock… didn’t ring Wonder Nanny because phone in boot… raced in to send her home, late late late.  Forgot where I’d dumped car.  The traffic warden was on his first pass only… so we dismantled the Big Pram, put it in the boot and drove to the Museum.

I unloaded and reassembled the Big Pram in the car park by the Museum.  The ticket machine wasn’t working.  Didn’t want to leave car without a ticket; didn’t want to unpick Pram again.  Put  Son 1 in museum with Wednesday Friends and moved car to a different car park with Son 2.  On the way we found a new pair of child’s mittens left abandoned on the pavement.  Son 2’s.  We are indeed having a Lucky Day.    

The Museum was great, Son 1 played everywhere, Son 2 joined in at every level with a single-minded determination, and a confidence in me as a resource that got everything he wanted.  Back home I put Son 2 to bed while Son 1 watched telly.  Nanna came round.  After bedtime another Friend came round, and we had a couple of glasses of wine and discussed children non-stop for two hours.  The Man says he may not be back till Saturday.   When I was half-planning to go Swimming In The Sea.

1. Boys

2. The Tent

3. Against the law

Beach.  Didn’t get there till 11, by which time one friend has been and gone - behaviour of eldest “If you don’t stop doing that we’re going.”  Friend and friend of friend are there. Four boys between them, one of whom is a friend of Son 1’s from nursery.  Next to them is a nanny I know vaguely.  Two boys in her charge.  This nanny tells me Wonder Nanny is on her way with her M/W/F boy. Then another friend of friend arrives, 2 boys in tow, one a baby younger than Son 2 aged 10m.  So between us we have 11 boys, the eldest of which is 3.   

Son 1 aged 3 y 10m begged me to take the new beach tent.   Nanna’s has been left on The Boat for use by landing parties.  As we had so many people around… as Son 1 was off rock-pooling with an unsupervised posse of 5 little friends , as Son 2 was watered, fed, factored up and twinking at Wonder Nanny, I thought I would have a go at the tent.  Find out how it works with the children miles away so there could be no tent peg pinching or toddler antics.  I did it.  But I must have been spied from a long way off  because I turned away, turned back, and there were 6 small boys in it, doing up zips, undoing zips and laughing.  There was so much action and horseplay coming from within that Son 2 wanted to go in. He sat on me, smiling at the big boys, with one little friend kissing him, and the nursery friend telling me that he knows Son 2, and a queue forming to tickle him.  Eventually he got so tired we needed to go.  Which is when I found out that taking a tent down in the presence of 6 cackling little boys is just as hard as putting it up.

Back home there was nowhere to park.  “Mummy, you remember when I hurt my knee?”  Son 1 does not like parking a long way from the house.  He’s always exhausted when we return from our expeditions, and once he did indeed stumble on tired legs and cut his knee open on the concrete.  I told him I’d drive around till one became free.  Nothing happened.  I offered him the choice of going to bed while I drove off with Son 2, or coming with us and walking back.  To make sure he understood, as I carried him in I said “Now you know if you choose to stay in your bed that Mummy will go down the road with the car to find somewhere to park, and then push Son 2 back in the pram.  So you will be on your own in the house, but just for a little while.” “That’s against the law,” he yawned.  Yeah thanks.  And if you examine the Working Time Directive while you’re at it you’ll find that you’ve pushed Mummy into outlaw country there as well.   

1. The parking fairy

2. Splash

3. The Good Hook

Wednesdays are great because I’m off, but they’re also hard because I need to do the housework, clear up breakfast, get lunches in the Buzz (Lightyear) Box and scoop up two small boys who haven’t seen me for two days.   At 10 to 10 today I remembered that I’d parked in the one hour parking last night because I was scrambling to get into the house so Wonder Nanny could leave.  And the one hour parking restriction starts at 9am.   So.  Shoes on Son 1 aged three and a half.  Son 2 in car seat in pram.  Boys in car, pram in car.  Car outside house.  Beach bag in car, other bags in car.  Drive round and round looking for space.  And then there was one.  Five cars down.  And Son 2 had fallen asleep in his car seat so we could get ready to go out again in peace.

“Wear your pirate shoes.” “No.” “But they’re beach shoes.  You’re wearing your pirate outfit.  So you should be wearing your pirate shoes.” “I want the flashing shoes.”  “No.  You’ll only run in the sea.” “I won’t run in the sea.  I want the flashing shoes.” “You always tell me you won’t run in the sea and you always do.” “I won’t. I really won’t. I want the flashing shoes.” “Well you can wear them, but you make sure you take them off as soon as we get to the beach.”  “I will. ” 

Splash.

A very good time at The Beach.  Our usual friends, plus our friend’s friend… who has a son at the boys’ nursery.  Six small boys and a baby.  Son 1 took two pirate hooks and a great big grey blue humpback whale.  Four small boys ran around chasing each other with the hooks, and sticks, and feathers.  Son 2, on very good form,  sat on the mat eating sand and limpet shells.  The sun shone, the wind was blowing the sun hats off.  The tide was going out, leaving yard upon yard of rockpools.  The sea twinkled.  Son 1 got his pirate trousers and pants wet.  We began to pack up and I realised that the good hook and the whale were missing.  I found the whale… and walked the length of The Beach four times looking for the good hook.  “Lost forever,” I told Son 1, who wailed.       Back home we did three laps of our block, and just when I decided to double park to unload everything but the boys… a space.  Outside our house. 

Later, our friend texted to say she’d found the good hook in her beach bag.