1.  Daddy Rings The Bell

2.  Show That All Is Well

3.  Rocking, Rolling, Raging

Man, what a week. It doesn’t feel like I’ve seen Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2 aged 22m. Which is daft, because I had my half day on Tuesday and as usual had Wednesday.  I left early again, this time needing to go to The City for The Office.    Son 2 apparently had a really bad night and kept The Man up throughout.  I didn’t hear anything. This is Indeed A Good Thing.  Apart from they were both fairly fractious by the time I got up.  Son 2 was lovely for our morning reading time though.  Say Hello to The Animals, Full Of Love, The Boy On The Beach, Maisie’s Fire Engine and The Snail And The Whale.  I like to think I do 5 books in the morning with him and 5 books in the evening. So he has 70 books a week.  This will Help His Receptive Language and Ensure He Has A Large And Confident Vocabulary.  In Son 2’s Top 10 words are Burp, Bart (for fart) and Bum Bum, when he bends over and waggles his bottom in the air.   These have so far not featured in any of his children’s books.  They are though heavily over-used by Son 1.  And before you start really hating me, the 5 books is a target.  Many, many days I am just too knackered.

A long old day in The City, and then back again. I stopped at Waitrose.  Like I did on Tuesday.  When I bought a two-pint bottle of organic milk, got it home and found it had a use-by date of the previous day, and a sell-by date of the day before that. Waitrose!  I always thought they were up there with John Lewis and… John Lewis as quality brands. I phoned them up and they grovelled, and told me to come back in and they’d give me a refund. They gave me a refund and a new bottle of milk. Sell by August 7. I checked. 

Younger Sister is down, just till tomorrow. She had Nanna to stay, and brought her back yesterday. So I had a Grand Plan that we could all eat out at Pizza Express.  5 o’clock, I said. And then got stuck, stuck, stuck in the traffic. Friday evening in the school holidays, what was I thinking of? i got there at about 6pm. I could hear a baby crying from outside. Too young to be  Son 2, I thought. As I came up the stairs, I looked into the eyes of a contorted, red, screaming toddler face.  Son 2 in Tantrum Town. The Man was just Iron Maiden-ing him into the high chair.  There wasn’t much I could do with him either.  It was good to get out, and good to see Younger Sister, who goes back tomorrow.  Son 2’s second mega-strop this week. I hope it’s not because I’ve not been around.

1.  Good Food

2.  Good News

3.  Good Thing

Lunch With Nanna.  She’d invited us out. Son 1 aged 4y 9m picked Pizza Express. We went along with the idea. Son 1 ate no breakfast or tea on Friday.. and nothing but cake, crisps, chocolate crispies, chews, lollies and biscuits yesterday.  We figured he would probably go for their cheese and tomato pizza and dough balls. Not exactly Annabel Karmel-compliant, but at least a nod to the three major food groups. On the way to The Square we stopped off to get sandals for Son 2 aged 21m.   ”Choos.” He was delighted. He showed them to Nanna as soon as he saw her. Poor Son 1. Clarks could do nothing with his 11E slender feet.   The boys were ok during lunch. Son 1 cleared his plate, but didn’t quite stay sitting at the table, and ate quite a bit of his garlic butter with his fingers. Son 2 climbed out of his highchair (broken strap) three-quarters of the way through.  But considering what they’re capable of, a success. On the way back we saw Glamorous 22 year old Graduate. “Choos,” said Son 2.

And then at 1545 I wheeled them out again to go the Family Service at The Church. Son 1, who likes the crafts,  had decided he wanted to go.   Today we made  bricks and building and drawing houses.  A few more people there than previously.  Son 2 made a brick and a house. Son 1 coloured an orange house with a pink roof.  He then refused to go to the front of the church for the service because he wanted to make a house too. So Son 2 and I did The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock. And then into the Church Hall for tea.  “I made vegetarian cottage pie last time and you didn’t come,” said the chef, doling out sausage and mash and beans for the boys. Sorry, I said.  Son 1, after his lunchtime triumph, ate mash and had seconds of beans. I don’t think the sausages met his standards.    Another mother there had worked with The Man 15 years ago. 15 years ago The Man used his pet name for me in all his conversations.  She still thinks that’s my name, and that’s what she calls me. I wonder when he stopped using it. 

When the boys were in bed I went for a run.  8pm and a warm, close evening with great light.  I’ve never noticed the amount of roses in front gardens along The Terrace before. I’m still running-and-walking while I get back into it, but as usual, I’m very glad I went.  There and back I was dive-bombed by a seagull, clearly protecting a nest or fledgings. And on the final straight, the seagulls were clacking at top volume near The Hotel With The River View.  A small grey chick was perched unsteadily on the sloping slate roof.  I ran on.  A cat sat outside a house on The Terrace, staring at the gulls.  Today’s positive lesson? At least when I make a mistake parenting, no-one tries to eat the children.

1.  A Coating

2.  Paintwork

3.  Varnish

0030.  Crying from downstairs. Wailing. I was barely out of bed before: “Mummeeeee!”  Son 1 aged 4y 7m, at the bottom of the stairs, two small splats of sick on the carpet. ”I want a shower!” “You’re all right, let’s get you to the loo.”  He cried.  I mopped him up and he flopped on the floor.  I sent him up to The Man and cleared up the landing carpet.  Then I went into his room to check the bed.  Which was fine.  There was a massive splat on the floor though, with splash marks up the wall.  I cleared that up.  I went upstairs to get Son 1 out of the Big Bed - hard if he was ill again. “Has someone been sick?” asked The Man, blearily.  Son 1 didn’t want to move, so I hoisted him up to carry him back downstairs.  He was sick over me.  We cleaned him up, cleaned me up, cleaned his teeth and went to bed in his room. 

All three of us Gastro Bug victims started the day with stewed apple and banana.    Son 2 aged 19m was weak, fed up and was happy only when he was either sitting on my knee or being held against my shoulder.  Son 1 was on better form, but clearly still wasn’t that well.  The Man wanted to check The Boat, so we put Son 2 in the Big Pram, and Son 1 in the buggy and pushed them through The Town.  The Boat is a sturdy little fishing tub, but is looking sorry for itself.  Rusting and flaking, needs a lot of paint, a mooring rope fraying…  The Man switched on the engine and the pump.  Son 1 and Son 2 pulled off bits of paint and splinters and threw them overboard.  If we’d have left them long enough they’d have chucked the whole boat in the river, one flake at a time.

Son 1 wanted Pizza Express, so we gave it a go.  He ate most of a child’s margarita pizza, Son 2 ate two slices.  They ate dough balls. Son 2 ate asparagus from my pizza.  Son 1 had ice cream.  It was ok - apart from Son 2 climbing out of his highchair with broken straps and clambering across on to my knee.  We got out without incident.  Son 2 was dropping with tiredness, and cried and cried nearly all the way home. When we got back I left him in The Pram and painted my toenails.   This is an Excellent Thing.  BC I would never have had bare toenails.   Even at 7 months pregnant, The Man was painting them for me.  And post-Caesarian, my first Recovery Milestone was when I slapped on the nail polish.  But in my new incarnation as Working Mother With 2 Small Children, I just couldn’t do it.  Now I have new TK Maxx open-toed sandals, and orange toenails.  I am Back.

1.  Early Speech

2.  Trains And Boats

3.  Everyone Else

Marvellous Night My A***.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m woke shouting at 3pm and That Was It.  I couldn’t sleep, I went downstairs and in the double bed next to Son 2 aged 18m’s cot… he woke up at about 4am calling “Ma Ma! Ma Ma!” and I ignored him.  Then he woke again at 0530 and we were off and up.  18 amazing months old.  Wordcount.  Look Away if you’re bored, this is a scientific project.  I am Capturing Language Development.  Ma Ma. Da Da.  Na (for no) Sss (with nodding) for yes.  Aaar for parrot.  Rarr for lion, tiger, bear and dinosaur.  Mooo for cow.  Woo for Dog.  Na Na (snap snap) for crocodile.  Dum dum (”Dump trucks are good at dump, dump dumping”) for lorry/vehicle.  Bye Bye.  Allo.  Meeh for milk.  Oooo (hoo, hoo) for owl.   Ba Ba for beep beep.  Rabid screaming: I am Disappointed.  His understanding is fantastic.  At one point today I asked Son 1 “Do you want CBeebies or The Wiggles?”  Son 2 nodded and jigged.  “You want The Wiggles?”  Nodding.  Off he trotted to the shelf where the DVDs live. 

Getting ready to visit The Museum with the Wednesday Friends, the boys escaped upstairs while I tidied.  I heard boxes being pulled out.  After 15 minutes I went upstairs to check.  They’d pulled out some Thomas Wooden Railway boxes, and Son 1 had started to build a track.  They were both hiding in the cupboard, pulling the doors closed behind them.  We finished the track, they played with two electric engines and I went downstairs again.  Son 1 wore his Captain Hook outfit for the Museum, and we walked all the way down.  Old ladies twinkled at him, and, by the time we got there he was twinkling back.  He played with Best Friend and Three Year Old With His Arm In Plaster.   Son 2 played in the boats, but fundamentally  just wanted to go upstairs, to go outside, to get out into the world.

We all went into Pizza Express for lunch.  Five boys under five, and we got away with it.  I had vegetables, pitta and hummous for Son 2, and Son 1, who was starving, raided it. We had a bottle of wine between us, and wondered whether our lunch was stress-free because the boys behaved, or because we’d added alcohol.  Afterwards Son 2 dozed for about twenty minutes of the walk home.  Son 1 managed the whole walk.  ”I want you to change your mind and buy me a gun to play with.” “No. I don’t want you playing with guns.”  “Everyone else has got one.”  The first one.  Before he’s four and a half.  I’m so proud.    He found a thick stick and played shooting people all the way home.    Where I heard the news from Germany. 

I made roast dinner, Nanna came round.  The boys, The Man, Nanna and I ate dinner.  Son 1 stayed at the table and ate two pieces of parsnip.  It was all very successful.  Until pudding, which was some iced buns/cup cakes I’d bought earlier.  Son 1 ate the icing from the doughnut and Gromit cup cake … and then started careering round, fizzing like a Catherine Wheel.

1.  Daring To Kiss

2.  Spring Animals

3.  Dinner With A Friend

I spent the night with Son 1 aged 4y 4m.  He’s still hot and bothered. I got up just before 5am, and decided I Do Not Drink Coffee till 6am.  I cracked at 0520.  Did some admin/paperwork.  The Man got up.  Off on a Business Trip.  Very pleased to see me Downstairs.  He’d thought, as I wasn’t with Son 1, that I must be behind closed doors with Son 2 aged 17m.  The Man dares not go into The Lightest Sleeper In The World’s bedroom, and thought it would be bad luck to leave without kissing goodbye.  After all these years I think that counts as a Good Thing.

A text from a Wednesday Mum.  Little Three Year Old Friend fell off the new bunk bed ladder last night and has broken his arm. Overnight in The Hospital, in theatre this morning.  I rang.  Tib and fib.  Carried off in an ambulance.  Five weeks in plaster ahead.   We went off to the Bird Park.  It was indescribably busy.  Every table packed, buggies everywhere, people standing round the edges.  The Other Wednesday Mum went for coffees while Son 2 and I played in the toddler area.  A table became free right next to it.  I stepped over and plonk.  Camp struck, Good Thing bagged.  Son 1 played, but as his calpol wore off his mood crashed.  We went outside. Down to the Farm.  The goats weren’t hungry - half term, they ‘d eaten hundreds of bags of pellets.  they just wanted grass.  There was a great fat black pig with ten gorgeous tiny piglets.  As a vegetarian, I can enjoy the cuteness of piglets guilt-free.  The quails had chicks.  The Big Fat Hens had laid eggs in the hen houses.  We went up to the Penguin Pond.  Son 1 climbed up on the wall and sat, in a “W,” which meant he takes up three times as much room as a child sitting cross-legged.   About sixty children were crammed round the wall.  Buckets of fish arrived with two keepers.  “We need about 12 volunteers!”  Every had shot up.  Son 1 has learned from previous disappointments, and is now much better at getting picked.  He was the best penguin-feeder by far.  Coat off, shoes off, dive into bucket.  Fling Those Fish.

Only. We’d forgotten Nanna was coming at 4pm.  I tried ringing, and off we sped.   Her car was parked near the house, no sign of her.  My mobile went.  She was waiting with our neighbours.  We drove down to The Square and went into Pizza Express for tea.  The boys were worn out and loudly fractious.  And then in came Son 1’s nearly six-year-old friend with his Mother, just back from the panto.  They sat on the other side of the restaurant, and Son 1 spent the entire meal with them.  I sent over a glass of Pinot Grigio as a babysitting fee.   So. Rude to Nanna, but he wate nearly every scrap of pizza, and Nanna and I got our food. Son 2 went for a walk round the restaurant with Nanna, fell over, hit his nose and split his lip open again.

After a long, late, exhausting bedtime, I rang 3 year old’s father at home, and then his mum in the hospital. They were both within 1m of him when it happened.  Second rung from the bottom of the ladder, foot slipped in, child fell and they heard the “snap.”  He has two greensticks and one proper fracture.  He was X-Ray Of The Day.  He’s on calpol.  He seems fine.   In the next bed is a little girl still recovering from the car crash in which her brother died.  It’s really only a scratch on Son 2’s lip.

1.  Four Good Things Before Breakfast

2.  V For Vaseline

3.  CuddleBlast

The Man and I both went to sleep on our own in the Big Bed last night.  This is a Good Thing.  For a while it’s seemed like one or other of us is in with a child from the off.  Son 2 aged 17m stayed in his own bed till 3am.  That’s a lot better than last night.  Tick. Another Good Thing.   I woke up in daylight, got up and he slept on,  so that’s actually only four hours in with a parent.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m stayed in his own bed all night. Four Good Things already and it was only 7am.  The Man and Son 1 were downstairs and pottering, Son 1 itching to decorate a biscuit.  I said he could do one for breakfast if he ate all his fruit tub first. 

Son 1 span out his tub for a good hour and a half, watching telly in the lounge. Son 2 and I read, had our shower and went downstairs for breakfast.  Son 2’s lip is still horrible, but now the swelling’s gone down it isn’t gaping as much as yesterday.  He’s still got his cold though, and wiping his nose - which was always a bit of a trauma - just made him weep.  So I spent today cleaning up snot, drying the wound and slathering vaseline on it.  Most mornings we have Tonic, Treat and Teeth.  Omega 3 vitamin medicine, a biscuit and then teeth cleaning.  They had their Tonic and were allowed to decorate their biscuits as their Treat.  They both stuffed their faces with the sprinkles and sugar balls, Son 2’s sticking to his vaseline.  Son 1 started squeezing the icing straight from the pen into his mouth.    His sprinkles stuck to the icing round his mouth.  Son 1 ate some of his biscuit.  Son 2 just licked the icing and sprinkles off.

We went for lunch with Son 2’s Godmother and Godsister, who had vouchers for Pizza Express.   Son 1 had a serious shyness episode.  Godsister had changed.  She wasn’t like she was before.  Godsister is a beautiful, willowy, 14.  Son 1 last saw her about 6m ago.  She’d got Very Big.  The boys did well at lunch - Son 2 was on great form.  Godmother and Godsister swore by Bio Oil for Son 2’s lip.  We shopped on the way home.  Nappies, Bio Oil and Ibuprofen sachets.  And Son 2’s first pair of shoes.  He loved them.  Stomped around the shop in them squealing and squawking,  Godmother and Godsister had to come round to see Son 1’s Omnitrix.  They were introduced to Heatblast, Wildmutt and Co.  Son 1 helped me cook the Sea Bass for tea.  Son 2 wolfed it. Son 1 finally ate a reasonable amount after exhausting cajoling.  We invented CuddleBlast, a superhero who cuddles the baddies every time she catches them.  Peels of laughter from Son 1.  At bathtime, Son 2 was very chilled when the Bio Oil went on his lip.  They went to bed. I went for a run.  A lot of Good Things.

1.   The Din In The Dark

2.   Sale Rails

3.  The Lunchtime Lull

Oh. What. A. Night.  The Man was already in with Son 2 aged 15m.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m arrived… whenever… clambered over the top of me and plopped in the Big Bed on the other side.  At 3am Son 2 started the loudest screaming fit yet.  Louder, louder, more and more hysterical.  Code for: I WANT MUMMY AND IT IS THE END OF THE WORLD GET HER GET HER GET HER.  It must be an evolutionary thing.  If he makes that noise just because he’s got the wrong parent in bed with him, he’s got to be able to fell bears with a shout under real attack.   I went down.  It took 15 minutes to calm him down; he had so completely lost it.  I slept with him, and he spent the next five hours waking every… whenever… and sobbing his heart out till I soothed him back to sleep.  I planned to get him back into his cot as soon as he went into his deep sleep - he didn’t.  Every time I moved away even an inch he shot out a hand to find me.   I vaguely heard Son 1 and The Man upstairs with the telly, and eventually went up.  It was 0830.  The latest I have slept in a very long time. 

And of course today was the day I wanted to be out of the house at 0830 to get to the Big Town for The Sales.  I skipped the books, skipped the shower, skipped breakfast, skipped dressing children, did my hair, put my make up on and left in 15 minutes.  I called into The Hotel to get Granny’s jumper which needed taking back.  Granny came too.  We did Monsoon - little boy trousers, little boy tops, odds ands ends, we did TK Maxx, we did Jaeger, we did Lakeland.  And we were back within an hour and a half. 

After Son 2’s lunch we packed up the boys and set off for The Square.  It was brutally, bitterly cold, with a gale force Easterly freeze-blasting skin and clothing.  “I’m getting draughted everywhere!” complained Son 1, so we rolled him up in his blanket and sat him in the battered MacLaren.  I tried to  pull the blanket down over his face so he could see.  “Leave it,” he said. “It’s cosy in here.”  By the time we got to The Square we had both boys asleep.  The Man, Granny, Granddad and I had wine, starters, pizzas and coffees while both children slept on.  Never in our Family History have we achieved this.  Granddad paid.  The waitress said they’d box up Son 1’s meal for him.  As we left, they made him a new pizza because his other one had dried out.  When we got home he ate every scrap, including his dough balls.  An honourable mention for PIzza Express.  They didn’t have to do that, but it made a big difference.