1. Excuse Me

2.  And Me

3.  Not Just Me

I give the boys a tub of fruit as soon as they get up, the Childcare With Serenedays principle being that I’ve always funnelled in at least one of their 5-A-Day before 7am.  So, while I was washing grapes and blueberries for Son 2 aged 21m, a little figure was pushing a green ELC chair across the kitchen. He likes to stand on a chair at the worksurfaces so he can see what Mummy is doing.  I like him standing on the chair, because at least I don’t have to carry him around. This morning, I wasn’t fast enough shutting up the dishwasher so he could get in. “Coos Me.  Coos Me,” he said, smacking the chair into my ankles.  He just is the cutest child in the world.

Son 1 aged 4y 9m doesn’t go to Nursery on Tuesday, so a sane start to a beautiful morning. The house is east-facing, so we had bright early sunshine streaming in to every room. “I wonder why Son 2 is waking up so early,” said The Man.  Both boys were lounging around in pyjamas, colouring, as I got ready.   Son 1 is great at colouring, does some amazing designs and spends ages choosing which colours and patterns to use. There are, of course, very many “Oh well done, Son 1, what a beautiful picture, I really like the way you’ve drawn that/colours you used/shapes you’ve made.   This morning, when Son 2, eyes shining,  held up his scraggy, holes gouged in it, scribbly biro-d yellow chick mask from the Environment Day, I realised the poor child has been trying to get the same response from me for ages.  Maybe when I’m less tired I’ll be smarter. 

I got back before Wonder Nanny left, which was a Good Thing. The boys were high as kites. They’d been to Nanna’s, who’d plied them with sweets and chocolate, and then to the playground in Nanna’s Village.  They were dirty and behaving badly, as they’d apparently done all day.  Son 1 tormented Son 2, and for the first time I witnessed Wonder Nanny snapping at him.  Thank God for that.  I have agonised over the quiet, reasoned, loving control she has over them.  Usually, when I come home from work, they are quiet, sedate little angels minding their ps and qs.  And then they go off like fireworks.  Because they were being so awful when I came in, there wasn’t the usual annoying disintegration for my benefit.  Son 2 sat still through his books; Son 1 was still pretty hyped but tolerable.  He gulped his bedtime milk. “Shall we ask the servant to bring us some more?” he asked. “Better not call him that,” I said.

1.  Girl 1

2.  Girl 2

3.  Dancing With The Tide

4.  Girls 3

I am still riddled with cold and over-tired.  Today I should have stayed in and let Wonder Nanny look after Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 18m.  But the forecast was good.  If it rains, I can stay in. And if it doesn’t, I have to go out. The boys fell asleep on the way to the Shingly Beach. Wonder Nanny and I drove around Remote Touristy Village, looking for an Out-of-Season takeaway cappacino.  We found one. We parked. The boys woke up.  We bought our coffees, and walked with the boys to a playground we’d spotted on our drive-through. Son 2 loved the seesaw. Son 1 loved the roundabout.  He played with A Girl.  Quick, where did I put those flags and fireworks. 

Lunch was a dream.  The pub had a little play area with toys for children.  Son 2 built a mad thing with plastic bricks.  Son 1 alternated listening to Wonder Nanny reading a story with wailing that Son 2 was playing with his toys.  Another family with four primary school-aged children on the next table proved more entertaining than telly. Especially when the elder daughter said “Bugger!”  Father didn’t hear.  Mother was mortified. She recited the names of teachers who would be disappointed with Elder Daughter.      

And then down to a Cove by a Farm.  Son 1 was in raptures. He ran on to the rocks, he ran into the sea. Son 2, on his reins, wanted to follow him. Wonder Nanny tried to gently coax him away. Nope. He was Going In.  Son 1 played Saltwater Strip.  First he took off his wellies and socks, then his trousers.  Then his parkha. Then his sweat shirt.   Son 2 sat and plopped sand and stones in the lapping water. Son 1 hared around madly, darting, splashing, chortling and whooping. The sun came out.  There was just him, small, naked, his reflection dancing on the golden sand, his silhouette sharp against long, low waves as they rolled in and out.  It was very Cave Boy. I felt children had been playing in the same way, on the same rocks, for hundreds of years.  After a good half and hour, Son 2 started to sob with cold and Wonder Nanny scooped him up.  Son 1 fell in the sea up to his ears, but still got up and cavorted around. He finally came to a trembling, frozen halt, and I put him in my jacket and carried him back to the car. Dressed in: a fleece, his sun suit trousers, his wellies and his pirate towelling robe, we went back to look at a field full of mighty great Freisians with massive udders.  “This is so peaceful,” he said. “This is the life.”

After we got back, he demanded a bath. The Man came in and said another family had invited us for an early drink. I said I’d stay in with Son 2. Son 1 almost climbed out of the bath to make sure The Man didn’t leave him.  His first time down the pub with his father.  When he came back I asked “Did you sit quietly with the grown ups, talking, or did you race round with the girls?”  He laughed. “I raced round.”

1.  Crocs

2.  Rocks

3.  Tuck

Son 2 aged 18m woke at 0630, Son 1 aged 4y 5m wasn’t far behind.  I went through my “Is Son 2 at the window, is he on the bed, is he on the chair, no! he’s in the cot” routine.  Son 2, crouching blearily, ran his hands over the rail - correcting me.  I usually run my hands up and down first looking for his little gripping fingers.  Son 1 cuddled him on the double bed.  Son 2 cuddled him back.  Mush.  We did “What’s That Noise, Mr Croc?” as one of our books.  Son 1 came in wearing the crocodile mask from the dressing up box.  Son 2 slid off the bed, clearly with an idea.  Downstairs. Into the lounge.  Jigging about, clutching  a train.  “Do you want to watch The Wiggles?” Mad nodding.  The Wiggles were doing the crocodile song when we stopped watching them yesterday.  We danced.  Son 2 is in love.  We have the Wiggles on Safari. “Crocodile Hunter - Big Steve Irwin.”   Son 1 wants to go to the Australia Zoo.  I wonder when I should tell them what happened to the Khaki Wiggle.

We drove down to the fantastic playground near the fantastic beach.  Two friends and their Three Year Old joined us.  Son 1 and Three Year Old ran onto big rocks.  Son 2 played in the rock pools.  I put him in a swimming costume wetsuit and his age 9m to 12m sunsuit top from last summer.   And Factor 50.  He picked up handfuls of mud and threw them into the pools.  Out of our sight, Son 1, who was wearing his school shoes,  stepped into a rock pool.  I put him in his sun suit, and found sun suit trousers for Three Year Old too. We built a huge sandcastle.  The Man and Three Year Old’s Dad flew kites.  Not enough wind.  (I have been with The Man for 22 years, and there is Never Enough Wind.) There were other kites on the beach, and dogs, and tractors, and horses.  It was a glorious day.  Bright sunshine and shimmering water.  There’s a tidal causeway and we crossed it to the Island. 

By the time we’d got back it was 2pm. Son 2 was yelling for his lunch in the pram, Son 1 needed carrying. Lunch was sausage baps from a kiosk, and assorted picnic stuff for Son 2 and me. Son 1 ate a bit but then pestered and whined for the playground.  We took them in.  Son 2 crawled up to slide down, crawled through tunnels, played with sand, climbed around a train and went on the swings.  Son 1 went on the aged 6 to 12 section, very pleased with himself.  An amazing afternoon.  We bribed them out with ice creams.  Back here at 5pm.  Son 1 has caught the sun on his face.  We were expecting them to sleep well, but Son 1 has already been up…

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.  The Playground

2.  Lunch

3. Eggy pie 

 Forecast ruled beach out, so our Wednesday rendezvous was planned for playground. We were the first ones there, and Son 2 aged 9m was still asleep in his car seat, so Son 1 aged 3 yr and 9m and I had a bit of a play.  The others arrived, Son 2 woke up, Son 1 got involved in various diplomatic incidents with his friends. Friend: SMACK. Son 2 : WAIL. Appeal to mummy.  Mummy’s response not satisfactory.   Friend: You’re a Baby.  Son 2: I’m not a baby. Friend: Yes you are.  Son 1: SMACK. Friend: Wail.  Appeal to mummy.  Etc etc.   Lovely moment when Son 1 was at the front of Son 2’s swing, Friend was at the back and Son 1 and Friend were pushing Son 2, giggling with his fist stuffed in his mouth, back and forward to each other.  Until the swing hit Friend and pushed him backwards so his head thunked into the forehead of Other Friend waiting behind for his turn to push Son 2. Very Hard Indeed.

Afterwards went to Other Friend’s house for lunch. Son 1 was in transports. Played with the toys, played in the pirate cave in the garden, came in to play with Son 2, went out again.  Son 2 was just so excited to be in  a room full of new toys.  He was trying to pull all the toys out of a toy box.  I was trying to give his face a kiss and a snuggle.  He gave me such a teenage “gerroff I want to look at this” push with his outstretched starfish hand that I did it again to make sure that’s what it was.  And he did it again.   I chatted to the Other Mother, while Son 1 and the Other Friend played quietly in the garden.  I went to give Son 1 a five minute warning that we needed to go.  And found they had tipped out some paint on concrete steps and the paving slabs and were making hand prints and footprints and painting stripes on plastic tubs.  It was water-based so it came off, but they were coated.  All three (Other Friend has a Little Bro) went into the bath for paint removal.  

Tortilla is Son 1’s favourite tea.  He is allowed to break the eggs. The recipe needs 5 eggs.  There are 6 eggs in a box.  Our tortilla had 6 eggs in it, as Son 1 saw no reason why he should leave one egg in the box.  He also scrubbed the new potatoes, and can now do it as well as I can.  There is admittedly a bit more muck to clear up as he does it, but who cares, there’s now someone in the house who likes washing the mud off the potatoes.  I made egg/tomato and cheese for Son 2 (we have a lot of eggs) and he ate it, which was also a Good Thing, because he’s been a bit tight-lipped over my cooking recently.