1.  Making Bags

2.  Making Sandwiches

3.  Making Merry

27.  The vegetarian boy’s Mother called off, two older boys turned up… no-one dropped out and I have absolutely no idea who The Last One was.  I am Toast.  Charred and chewed.  Ringing head. Rabid sciatica.  Twitching eyelid.  Compulsive hair twiddling.  Hope you’re ok.  So. Up at the crack.  Son 1 aged 4y 11m with one goal. Doing The Party Bags.  I read to Son 2 aged 2, but we finished too soon. The second we got to the kitchen, Son 2 started unpicking the bubble wands Son 1 and The Man had just carefully sellotaped to the Scooby Do bubbles. Son 1 screamed.  The next thing to go in was the sweets. ”Can we eat them?” said Son 1.  ”Yes. If you eat your breakfast you can have them as your treat in Tonic, Treat and Teeth.”  They gorged parma violets and lollies and chews.  Son 2 gobbled boiled sweets. Choked. Spat out.  The advantage of eight months’ reflux hell is the best gag reflex this side of an eating disorder.     Son 2 happily plopped sweets into each party bag. 

The Man was a Marvel.  He started making sandwiches at 0830, went down into Town twice, made all the party food - sandwiches, vegetable fingers, topped strawberries, packed up all the stuff, made two trips to the Church - with Son 1 - and presented it all beautifully. He was singing as he washed up 15 minutes before we had to go. A Magical Moment which is going in The Album.

And The Party.  27 + children, 24 party bags, 30 balloons and a bouncy castle. Acoustic Armageddon.   Son 1and Best Friend were, by several streets, the Worst Behaved Children there.   The Bouncy Castle Man, because I asked him nicely, turned up 45 minutes ahead of start time so Son 1 and a handful of friends could have a Good Old Play before the rest of the guests arrived.   I thought it would calm them down.  Nope.  They were orbiting at sub-atomic speeds, and then the Gentle New Children from Son 1’s reception class arrived with their bewildered parents.  The Children’s Entertainers were amazing. Party games, a puppet show, magic tricks.   Son 1 had the time of his life.  Son 2 less so… he needed me to help him enjoy it and although I did my best I couldn’t always do it. Nanna just sat on her chair throughout, watching.  I had Great Help.  Son 2’s wonderful Godmother queened it in the kitchen with The Man, serving squashes, teas, coffees… and, when I got up the nerve, beer and bucks fizz. She washed up, she did the party bags.  She’s a miracle.  Best Friend’s Mother got the most outrageous gossip from her chatting.  All to do with ex-boyfriends, impossible overlaps between Reception Dads and Breastfeeding Group Mums, and a jaw-dropping “I should have chosen you” moment.   Bloody Hell. If “He” goes off with “Her” it’ll be my fault.   And the present pile, oh God the present pile.  It was for two children remember…. but a small, church hall table piled with 50 plus presents does not look good.   In my defence, Son 2 had money for the Children’s Hospice instead of presents for his christening. And I promise they’re having goats next year.   ”Did you like your party, Son 1?” “Yes I really enjoyed it.”  And still they both span bedtime out to get more time with Mummy.

1.  A White Rabbit

2.  Halloween Bats

3.  The Enormous Crocodile

The alarm went off.  Son 1 aged 4y 11m was in the Big Bed.  I had a nice snuggy cuddle, and woke up 50 minutes later. Oh my ears and whiskers.  Poor old Son 2 aged 2 didn’t get any stories.  Got up. Breakfasted Son 1 and Son 2, showered, dressed, did face and hair, scooped up Son 1, gave him a toothbrush and told him to do his teeth in the car…  and outta the door. Hellish traffic, but I have a Rat Run. “Have you cleaned your teeth?” “Yes.” We got to School in time to park up the Muddy Path. And then I saw the toothbrush. He hadn’t touched it.  “Just clean them now.” “No.”  He cried, he stropped, he dillied, dallied and dawdled.  The doors were closed by the time we got there.  And Son 1 was very upset. “It’s my fault,” I said. “For rolling over and going back to sleep.”  

At lunchtime I went looking for Cookie Cutters for the party bags. It is a Scooby Doo party, and I’ve been after for one Nice, Lasting, Cheap Thing to go in the bags.  They are getting Halloween cutters. I haven’t yet worked out how many children we have coming.  Doesn’t matter. We like making biscuits in our house.  We do, it has to be said, have a heck of a lot of boys coming. And two girls.  I haven’t told the parents of the girls that we have a slight imbalance.  Tra la la.   When I picked Son 1 up I let him see the cookie cutters, and he of course wanted to do the party bags when he got in. Oh boy.  As a friend said to me recently: “Why don’t you just try saying ‘no?’”   

Son 1 does Activity Time with The Man each evening while I’m bathing Son 2 and putting him to bed.  Then Son 1 and I read, him snugged next to me in the Double Bed, just ahead of popping him into his own bed, in his room, where Son 2 is already asleep in the cot. The Man’s being doing Son 1’s Jolly Phonics with him. We also have a reading book with a list of words we’re supposed to help hime learn. This week it is “I” “a” and “look.”  Son 1 and I read The Enormous Crocodile. I tried to get him interested in looking at the “looks.”  “I don’t want to.  Just read it.”  Then we got onto Bugs In The Blanket.  “I’ll give you a chocolate button for each ‘look’ you can find.” I said. He went to bed with a pile of seven chocolate buttons waiting for him in the morning.

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.

1.  Garden Party

2.  Sliding Down

3.  Wrapping Up

A Little Friend is 3 today.  His party was at a Nearby Garden.  I’ll take all the Christmas presents, I thought, taking a pile of five downstairs to wrap.  In front of Son 1 aged 4y 3m, while Son 2 aged 15m was napping.  Son 1 went nuts.  He wanted the little plastic paint-me figures, he couldn’t keep his fingers out of the Meccano boxes, he lifted the flaps in the  books.  Of course I gave up, and we just took Birthday Boy’s.  Son 1 wore his Santa outfit.  We went straight to see Santa in his grotto; 8 little boys aged 4 and under, 1 two-year old girl.  Santa was great, the grotto was great.  Is it me or are they getting better?  Santa asked all the little boys what they wanted for Christmas.  Son 1 couldn’t speak when it was his turn.  “A Knight’s Tower,” I said, “with some Monsters.”  “And what about this little one? ” said Santa.  “An iPod,” I said. “Or a mobile phone.” Santa stared and waited for a sensible answer, while small boys giggled and said “No-o,” Teletubbies fashion.  I made up a Farm and some bath toys.  Outside, Son 2 stared, rapt, at the mighty camera wielded by Birthday Boy’s parents, reaching out his little starfish hands for the buttons.  Sorry  darling, Santa didn’t believe me when I told him what you’d like for Christmas.      

The children had their faces painted.  They were all blue Power Rangers, which made Son 1 a Santa with a blue face. Lunch was served in the playground.  It was a dry, clear day so the children ate chocolate sandwiches and chased and slid and climbed and squabbled.  Son 2 reached for me every time Wonder Nanny picked him up.  That matters more than it should.  She lay him down on his back and dropped him down the slide… I caught him at the bottom.  He laughed and laughed and then started panicking in case we weren’t going to do it again.  Son 1 complained that Older Brother had hit him.  “You don’t need to tell me,” I said.  “Santa is very close and he’ll be watching Older Brother and won’t bring him any presents.”  They made up.  Cake was served.  Two more boys we know, aged 4 and 2 turned up, with their dad.  The children played, the grown ups chatted.

Some went home, we went back towards the grotto so Son 1 could make a Christmas Table decoration.  Red candle, a bit of clay, a base and all the foliage you can get in for a pound.  Son 1 did a very good job.  We put the boys in the car, they were both asleep by the time we got back to The Town, so I did a quick shopping run around Asda.  Trolley logjam.  Granny and Granddad came round to see the boys, who were fizzing with tiredness.  After bedtime, The Man and I wrapped present after present after present.  Son 2 has about 6 things, Son 1 about 15.  Must get something for Granny and Granddad tomorrow.  And for The Man, I suppose.

1.   Santa Suits

2.  Top Trumps

3.  An Unusual Name

I had something to do for The Office today.  Then we took the boys to see The Town Band.  All dressed as Santas, starting out from our nearest pub, drumming, blowing whistles, singing carols.  Son 1 aged 4y 2 m was in a £2.99 child’s Santa suit with his tambourine, chasing the band, banging away.  He had a friend along as well.  He loved it.  He loved the response to his costume; he loved trying to keep up and catch up.  Son 2 aged 15m was in a Santa suit in the pram.  He had a go on a drum in the pub and loved it.  The Town Band stopped for refreshments at another local hostellry.  The boys were allowed to bang on the bass drum.   They took turns beautifully; 3 boys and two bass drum bangers.

Top Trumps is a spectator sport.  i remember it from my childhood.  My brothers had stacks of packs.  I think, for a reason I simply can’t remember now, that I had Windjammers.  Son 1 has Ben 10.  The MAn bought it for him on his way back from the last overseas Business Trip.  Son 1 loves his cards, and The Man has taught him how to play.  While I put Son 2 to bed, Son 1 and The Man commune.  Over activity  books, over comics, and now over Top Trumps.  Their bonding sessions rarely involve books - that’s what I do. Tonight I arrived early, an exhausted Son 2 having passed out almost as soon as I lay him down.  Son 1 didn’t want me.  He hadn’t finished. I watched him play and I loved it.  The Man and he only compete on “Intelligence.”  It is at the top of the card, and Son 1 can read out the number.  The The Man tells him who has got the highest number.  If it is Son 1, he gets the card.  If it is The Man, Son 1 gets the card.  I found a stray card on the floor.  Eye Guy. I don’t think he’s very intelligent… he seemed to have quite a high Freak score but that doesn’t count.  I handed over the card.

The Man and I were invited to a party, but had no babysitter.  I went anyway, figuring he never talks to me when we are out anyway.    I met some interesting people. I met someone who has just started at The Office who has an unusual first name.  Son 2 has an unusual first name.  “He will hate it as a child, but love it as an adult,” said my colleague.  I went for one drink and stayed for seven.

1.  Getting A Goal Back

2.  The Hall in the Squall

3.  A Lovely Boy

Grim, grisly, gruesome night.  I went to bed late and Son 2 aged 14 months woke howling at around 2am.  Around because I knew he was crying, but thought it was the morning and The Man would get him.  The Man snored by my side.  At 2.30am I snapped awake, looked at the clock and went down.  I think Son 2 is still suffering from the MMR - he’s still got his rash - so I gave him calpol and water, cuddled him, put the fan on and then did head-in-the-cot.  At 0310 I gave up.  Too tired and needed to go to bed.  I called The Man down, he got into bed with Son 2, I went upstairs to sleep.   One to Son 2.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m had a 4th birthday party - a child from Nursery - 20+ miles away on the other side of The Big Town.  We arrived at the Village Hall as a freezing squall blew in.  Two other families there, and no other cars.  In the (empty) hall, we compared notes.  I had the invitation in the car.  Back into the squall.  Son 2’s thin wisps looked Brylcreamed to his head.  We needed the Church Hall. Off we went, us in the front of the convoy.  Into the right Hall.  Say hello to Birthday Girl’s Dad.  There’s the changing bag, there’s the baby food bag.  Where’s the present?  Son 1 went in, Son 2 and I went back to the car.  Back at the Village Hall, there was a Mother, on foot, with small daughter, looking for the party.  I explained.  ”I thought it was strange,” she said.  “There was nobody here, but there was a present on the table with Birthday Girl’s name on it.”  The squall whipped our faces.  They got in my car.  Sand. Feathers. Pine cones. Leaves. Dried out baby wipes. Breadstick crumbs.  Two pairs of posh pointy shoes for The Office.  Hell.

Back at the party I took Son 2 to sit on the side, at the front, thinking he would enjoy the balloons.  There was a magician, with 15 small children sitting on the floor gazing up at him.  In the front row was Son 1, the only child in fancy dress. Captain Hook.  The Magician asked for a helper. Up shot Son 1’s hand.  Up he went.  He laughed, he giggled, he yes-ed, he no-ed, he laughed again, spellbound.  Back he went.  I watch him in profile for the rest of the act.  Face tilted up, eyes dancing, smiling, laughing, calling out.   “A lovely boy…” clad in a red tailcoat with lace at the sleeves, “but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth.”  That first teeth smile in profile, backlit from the windows high above him, was heaven.

1.  The Triumph

2.  The Trip

3.  The Trident

I’d left a stale packet of gingerbread men on the worktop in the kitchen overnight.  Downstairs at 6am with Son 2 aged 13m, I gave him milk and banana.  “Boo,” said Son 1 aged 4y 1m.  I left them both in the kitchen while I went to the loo.  Son 1 appeared, laughing and eating a gingerbread man.  “Son 2’s got one too,” he giggled.  I shouldn’t have left them out, I thought.  “You shouldn’t have left them out,” he said.

We went to visit an Old Friend this morning, someone I’ve known 17 years, whose elder son is a week older than Son 1.   Another two boy family.  She has a lovely, immaculate house, a lovely immaculate playroom with individual boxes for each group of toys, a lovely immaculate garden, and a lovely immaculate kitchen in which she was effortlessly making lunch for seven.  And she’s seven months pregnant.  Hey ho.   The boys had a riot, Son 2 played with fridge magnets, saucepan lids and the home-made Playdoh.  Son 1 and Elder Son have known each other since they were weeks old, and used to be at nursery together.  Son 1 misses him.  “Come again soon,” he said, when we left.

Then a fourth birthday party in the afternoon.  Madly over-scheduled children.  A Halloween theme, held at a cricket club.  Son 1 wore a mask, and carried a trident, monster feet and a free pumpkin from a CBeebies comic.  Son 2 wore a little bat outfit I found marked down in Woolies.  A bright, sunny afternoon so all the children ran around outside.  Son 2 wanted to play with the dog.  And then crunched up the leaves and explored the acorns on a path.  He liked the wheels on the barbecue.  He liked the crispy monster balls.  He liked hanging onto my fingers and walking.  Son 1 played and played.  When we got back at 1830 The Man was home.      

1.  Scooby Dooooo

2.  There’s a Song To Be Sung 

3.  Perfect Parties

Shoulda been cleaning and tidying up.  But in fact was chasing Son 1 aged 4 around the house with the Scooby bike and net trying to catch ghosts.  Son 1 laughing and dimpled and holding the ghost as high as he could, never registering the fact that I’m twice the size of him.  Every time I caught a ghost or twisted it from him he disintegrated into disappointed, petulant child.  We ran up and down three flights.  And woke Son 2 aged 1 up.

The Young Ones was on the radio.  “Once in every life time… comes a love like this.  I need you.  You need me.  Oh my darling can’t you see-ee-ee-ee.”  The song stopped.  I carried on.  “Some day, when the years have flown, darling then we’ll teach the Young Ones of Our Own.” “Are you young, Mummy?” asked Son 1, from the hall, as I shovelled pasta into Son 2.  From the Perfect Parenting Pamphlet:  Discuss contentious issues as they arrive naturally.  “I’m a little bit older than your some of your friends’ mummies.” “Then stop singing that song.” 

We went to a party in the afternoon.  The party leader from last week’s event 10 miles away.  Son 1 loved it.  Son 2 was just too tired.  Son 1 played the games, ate the food, bounced on the bouncy castle, tried out the birthday bike (so much more sensible than a drum kit,) showed another child the birthday card  (pop up dinosaur. Choice limited in The Town) and didn’t want to go home.  “Look darling.  The other children are getting party bags.” “Party bags are everywhere.”  Son 2 laughed in delight when he saw the baby sling.  Son 1 sat in The Pram and passed out on the way back.   

1.  Signs

2.  Mimes

3.  Reminders

Looking on the bright side, I’ve started to stop breast feeding, and I’ve cleared out a cupboard.  But big attack of the Pangs.  I didn’t do the morning feed.  I’ve probably picked the worst time to drop it… Son 2 aged 1 is still sleeping badly… his teeth hurt… he’s lost Son 1 aged 4 from his life three days a week… Wonder Nanny is on holiday so he’s done two days in  a row at the Old Nursery for the first time ever… and along I come. You Are One Now So We Have To Stop Breast Feeding.   Son 2 asked and asked (When will Justin do that sign? Launch yourself forward with an open mouth at Mummy’s chest… “you sign ‘I want to feed from your breast.’”) But we did without.  And then I sorted Son 2’s baby clothes round for a friend who’s just had a little boy.  Pa-a-ng.  Horrible.  To start with I was doing a bit of “I could keep this,” and ” I could sell that.” But I decided to just give the lot away.  It hurt.   I’ve taken my first step towards the place where I accept there isn’t going to be another baby. 

But, the day got better.  We went to a party - one of the children from the New Nursery.  Well, one of the children and the entire New Nursery class.  Oh dear.  Now what do I do? Go through the whole year going to New Nursery parties without admitting that we already had a big one… or watch Son 1 not get invited to New Nursery parties because he didn’t invite the whole class.    I am amazed at how much I care about Son 1 and parties. While it’s good to still be able to surprise myself at my age, the old, BC me is standing on a hilltop in a parallel universe willing me to get a life in this one.  I think it’s just because I love seeing Son 1 so happy.  Today he didn’t really know any of the other children, yet he knows the language, pass-the-parcel, the parachute, the team games.  He made tiger claws and roared, he was an aeroplane, he was an elephant.  All unselfconsciously and with sparkling eyes and intent concentration.  Till he sees the party bags. “Can we go home now?”    

Then we went to the friend’s house with the bin bags.  New little three-week-old, lying asleep in his Moses basket.  His 4 year old sister playing instantly with Son 1.  They haven’t seen each other since Christmas, so it was good to see them click. Son 1 shared his party bag chocolates with her… unheard of.  Son 2 carpet-bombed from his nappy. And then crawled up to her keyboard and played and sang into the microphone.  He’s still feeling awful.  And olgaorbit has reminded me what a rubbish time he’s having. I think I’ll sleep with him tonight.

1.  Just before the dawn

2.  Sunday morning party

3.  Lunch at Nanna’s

We did better this morning.  Both boys in their own beds at 0615, when Son 2 aged 1 called, and Son 1 aged 3y 11m up appeared instantly as soon as he heard us next door.  It’s the light of course.  We spent the summer with a tatty old blanket wedged into the top of the blind in Son 2’s room, asking ourselves, baffled, why he was waking at 5am.  And now it’s not dawn till 0630, guess what.  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.     

Slightly more sedate getting out the house today.  We had a party, then over to Nanna’s for lunch.  It made a huge difference not having to pack a picnic, although I did put in milk, fromage frais, water, a jar and raisins for Son 2.  I have had now had the picnic bag out five days in a row, which has, oddly, pleased me.  I like to feel we’ve been gadding  about instead of dusting and straightening ornaments.  (And lordy lordy does it show.)  The party was great.  Son 1 charged around, chivvying, running, calling… playing with four or five of the friends from his Old Nursery.  Son 2 played on the slide, played with the swing ball, played in the sand pit, played with the bubbles, gazed at the balloons, balanced and wobbled on his feet - to admiring applause from the other mums, and had a blast.  Son 1 wore his Captain Hook outfit for face painting, with me thinking he would emerge with an eyepatch and a beard.  No.  A blue face with a black mask.   The Blue Power Ranger, apparently.  Maybe this is the week we move on from pirates.  

Then over to Nanna’s.  Very late.  Younger Sister had started warming up the food to start without us.  Son 1 said he wasn’t hungry.  Son 2 had eaten half a jar, strawberries, banana and various other nibbles.  So it was just the three of us.  “That’s everything except the sausages,” said Younger Sister.  “Sausages?” said Son 1. “Are they veggie sausages?”  “No,” said Nanna.  “They’re for you and me.”  Son 1 pulled up a chair.  Then Son 2 decided he wanted more lunch too, and ate the rest of his jar.    The two of them trashed Nanna’s lounge.  Son 1 got blue face paint on the front of  her sofa, Son 2 smeared vegetable noodles on the back.  Son 1 tried on all her glasses.  Son 2 tried biting the bulbs and the birdfood.  Son 1 went in the garden, Son 2 went up the stairs.  Son 1 threw the loo roll in the bath. Back home they had dips for tea.  Son 1 said “This pepper is really sweet, thank you mummy.” Son 2 got hummous everywhere, but enjoyed it.  I tried rinsing blue face paint out of Captain Hook’s lace and collar.