1.  Nothing But Blue Skies

2.  Obstacles

3.  Here Is The Rainbow

We are improving.  We can get out of the house a bit earlier, and in to School a bit earlier.  A bright, fresh morning with a blue sky. Son 1 aged 4y 11m is still in shorts; I was in a silk print frock. I have no idea what Son 2 aged 2 wore. He was in his pyjamas when we left, and in his (different) pyjamas when we got back. A completely different set of parents dropping off when we are On Time, as opposed to There By The Skin Of Our Teeth. I’ve never seen any of them before.  Although I do think it’s quite funny that it is, indeed, Always The Same Ones who are late when we are.

At lunchtime I went out to shop for party food.  M and S. No I didn’t remember the bloody vouchers. Or the bloody carrier bags.  I gained three more party guests on the way.  One is a little vegetarian boy who usually comes with his vegetarian parents.   I’ve been vegetarian for 26 years and even I don’t really know what we eat. I bought quiche and  Cheese and onion savoury rolls.  I don’t want little 5 year old X to sit and stare at the table and not have a choice.  “I can’t decide if Son 1 aged 4m is going to be a vegetarian or not,” I said to the Breastfeeding Counsellor, way back in Jan 2005. “Well you don’t need to decide yet do you?  He’s 17 weeks old.”  “Oh it’s not for now, I’m making baby food for the freezer for when i go back to work and I’m just starting 9m in the Annabel Karmel book.”  I was a bit more in control in Those Days.  I went for meat.   I didn’t want him to be the odd one out at parties.

When I picked him up he had made me a bar of soap, and completed his sticker chart for a Certificate Of Achievement. “I’m the first to get it in my class,” he said.  For two weeks he has talked of nothing else. “I am going to smile so I can get a sticker.” “I am going to help so I can get a sticker.” He seems two years older than he was two weeks ago.  I let him talk me into a trip to Tesco, because I needed serving plates for tomorrow. He behaved impeccably.  Threw a few Smoothies squashies and cheese stringie things into the trolley, but I kind of regard those as collateral damage if I’m barmy enough to take him shopping. Back home, The Man had remembered to buy serving plates too. The phone kept ringing, Another three party guests.  We are now up to… er… 25.  I can do 24 Scooby Party bags. 24 Scooby plates and 24 Scooby cups. After that it’s Tesco Value. They won’t all come. Sweepstake anyone?  I think 7 no-shows on the day. Maybe two we’re not expecting to turn up. I am The Woman Who Cooked Her Baby Food Four Months In Advance.  I will take a carrier bag of Spares.

1.   Morning Has Broken

2.   A Choice

3.   Deep Sleep

4 am.  Son 2 aged 17 m, lifting the roof again.  I went down, put him back to sleep in his cot and went back to bed.  At first light he woke again, and I plonked him in the double bed and lay down next to him.  He wouldn’t go back to sleep.  He cried, he wriggled, he crawled off in his sleeping bag, he peered this way and that for drinks, he grumbled.  I refused to move.  I became aware of a Presence.  The bedside light was switched on and a bright voice aged 4y 5m said “Rise and Shine!”  Son 1 went back upstairs to watch telly, Son 2 and I went downstairs.  Wonder Nanny made flapjacks yesterday and left them in a plastic box on the work surface.  Son 2 took one look at the box and insisted.  “Ah Ma.” Hand outstretched, palm open, fingers spread as wide as they go. I rang the upstairs phone and Son 1 answered: “Hello!”  “Son 2 is having a flapjack for his snack.”  “Can I please have a flapjack?”  “Ok.”  “Goodbye.”

A 6 year old’s party this afternoon.  Fancy Dress.  Son 1 was a Power Ranger - a surprising Pang as I wondered whether he’d ever choose any of his pirate outfits again - and Son 2 was a Halloween Bat.    The party was in a Church Hall, with Son 1 and Son 2’s old Male Nursery Nurse presiding.  Many team games.  Son 1 was a bit younger than most of the children, but played very well most of the afternoon with a three year old girl friend from Down The Terrace.   All the other children loaded up on fingers of fudge, haribous, fairy cakes, chews, crisps,  chocolate crispies and squash.  My two chose cherry tomatoes, plain rice cakes, cucumber slices, and batons of pepper, carrot and cheese.  It’s the internet, I can make up anything I like.  They were both given party bags bulging with more sweets.  On the way home, Son 1 “just wanted to look at his.”  I said no, because he wouldn’t be able to stop himself opening it.  He asked if he could stay up till Daddy got back.  I said he could either have his party bag after tea, or he could stay up till The Man’s eta of 9pm.  He chose Daddy.

They had a quick tea, then a bath.  While I was putting Son 2 down, Son 1 crept in and slid into the double bed.  I carried him back in his own room when Son 2 was asleep, and he didn’t make it through Winnie The Witch’s Birthday before passing out.  The Man got back and I went upstairs, as I promised, to get Son 1.  He barely woke as I carried him downstairs, sat on The Man’s knee and cuddled him for a few minutes, but then when I offered to take him back to bed so he could go to sleep he reached out for me.  He was back asleep before I’d left his room.