1.  Domestic Goddess

2.  Domestic Drama

3.  Domestic Bliss

Working yesterday meant I had today off.  Wonder Nanny was off, so it was Son 1 aged 4y 11m, Son 2 aged 23m and me.  September.  Strewth.  The boys were knackered after yesterday, and we all have rotten, rotten colds, so I aimed low.  Maybe some cake making, I thought. Maybe a stroll into The Town.  Maybe.  “What do you want to do Son 1?” “Crabbing.”  The Man took an early lunch, and down to The Hotel With The River View we strolled.  We have by trial and error arrived at the perfect crabbing design.  A washing tablet bag on a piece of string filled with bacon.  The MAn and Son 1 were hauling ‘em up, four at a time.  Son 1 is brilliant. He’s gone from being too scared to go near a net containing crabs to sticking his hands in and flicking them in the bucket.  “Mind your fingers!” “I am minding my fingers!”  Son 2 likes feeding the captives.  So much that you can’t leave him alone with the bait. He’d plop it all in the bucket for his prisoners.  He lost interest and was more interested in paddling in the tidal puddles on the quayside and flipping stones and winkles in the river.  The tide was coming in, The Man was running out of time. He took the bucket and nets… I took two small, tired boys back to the house. 

I’d roasted a pile of beetroot while we were out. And I made it into pink soup for lunch. In the Duck and The Cat and The Squirrel, they make pink soup one day when they’ve run out of pumpkins. ”I’m not eating that!” said The Duck.  “It’s Pink.”  Son 2 took one look and refused. And when Son 1 realised Son 2 was getting away with not eating it, he refused as well. So I gave them the leftover hummous and veg from  yesterday’s packed lunch and ate two bowls. It was Delicious.   Then we made fairy cakes. Son 1 and Son 2 took turns to press the food processor buttons.  They carefully put the cake papers in the tray.  They broke the eggs. And they licked the bowl out. We watched Wall E. Son 1 pestered to ice the cakes. I said he could if he ate all his tea.  He did.  I made icing while they stuffed their faces with cake sweets. We had a whole pot of jelly tot sweets… There are none on the cakes.  Son 2 just stood on his chair by the chopping board, his attention rigidly fixed on shoving as many sweets in his mouth as he could before someone took them away.  And then Man Oh Man I got the sugar rush I deserved. Son 1 cannonballed back and forth; Son 2 giggled like a drunk. The Man came home. “They made me do it,” I muttered sheepishly as he picked up Son 1 by his torso, his arms and legs still whizzing round like a wound-up bath toy.

I finally got them to bed. Son 1 is still on Book  Club. I went to Book Club last Thursday, which meant I had to leave during his bedtime. “Can I come? I’ll bring one of my books.” “You can have a Book Club tomorrow.. as many as you like.”  On Friday he had all his Thomas books, and all his Mr Men books on a big pile. We counted.  58 books.  We have done about 20.  This evening he passed out after about five. I went downstairs. The Man had made fajitas, because we both have colds.  We ate them downstairs, no telly, no newspaper. A glass of wine, and we talked to each other. We agreed we must do it more often.

1.  Splashback

2.  Flashback

3.  Backtrack

Son 2 aged 20m came in the bath with me this morning.  This was a Good Thing. From when he was tiny, Son 2 lay on his feeding pillow watching me in the shower.  Then he sat up and watched me i in the shower. Then he crawled towards the bath.  Then he pulled himself up.  And then he used to play in the water, every morning, while I showered and washed my hair.  Always. At some point recently he wouldn’t come in with me any more.  I can’t remember when. Son 1 aged 4y 8m had started watching DVDs downstairs instead of Ben 10-style CItv upstairs… and Son 2 was interested in some of them.  Or he was playing with toys.  I’ve given him the choice, and off he’s gone.  This morning we read 5 stories, and he decided to come in with me.  Played with his new watering cans, didn’t want to get out. Nice to have him back.

I went for coffee with a Colleague on maternity leave.  An eight month old little girl in the pushchair with us.  I held her, and realised I simply couldn’t remember either of the boys at that age.  So I’ve been back a year in the Blog.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/06/09/before-7am/ On June 9 2008 I’d just had an awful night with Son 2 screaming for me, so bad that I’d left him alone in the small hours and gone downstairs to make a cup of tea.  The following day I took him to a cranial osteopath.  Now he sleeps through the night, every night.  He can cry when I put him down, but never for more than 5 minutes. And today he went to sleep without crying when I left.  It all passes.

 Son 1 is mad about a Nick Sharrett book called “You Choose.”  It came from Nursery in his Bookstart box, and we start off choosing where we are going to go, what sort of house we will live in, who our family and friends will be, our furniture, clothes, food, transport, jobs, hobbies and bed.  Well, I choose, and Son 1 says “I’m coming with you.” Tonight we chose a tree house in a forest near a village.  Then we did Pumpkin Soup, A Pipkin of Pepper and Delicious. Then I asked: “Did you get the book for me?”  Oxfam, again, had a book in the window about a child with Son 2’s (unusual) name.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/04/29/well-done-mummy/ Son 1 and I had it from the library when I was pregnant.  It may have been where I first got the name idea.   I’d asked Wonder Nanny to get it.  “Yes.”  “Did you read it?” “Yes.”  What are the chances of Oxfam, a few hundred yards from our house, putting two children’s books in the window, both featuring the same very unusual boy’s name?   There is glue holding this world together.

1.  Daemon

2.  Pumpkin Soup

3.  Fireworks

A tough morning after a tough night before.  The Man conceded that after devoting weekends, evenings and agreed time off to work, he could spend a bit of time helping me today.  Maybe the fact that I drove 15 miles home from the Office last night in the pitch black with just my sidelights on, and I reversed the car into a barrier helped him realise I was suffering.  He took the boys to the Museum to see the Wednesday Friends while I lay in bed and watched telly.  Of course I couldn’t cope.  The Western World was wheeling cartwheels but I ‘m a full-time working mother and on my day off I wanted my baby.     

I rattled an empty pushchair down to the Museum, and joined everyone just as the Business Mother was scooping up the children to say goodbye.  Son 2 aged 13m clapped and laughed as soon as he saw me.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m soared off somewhere with The Man.  Back home Nanna came round.  I made pumpkin soup, with caramelised onion and a roasted pumpkin straight out the veg box.  “Yuk,” said Son 1.  I piled it into a cabbage-shaped tureen Younger Sister bought me in the days I had time to select witty serving dishes.  It worked.  Son 1 agreed it was The Best He’d Ever Tasted, and ate a grown up bowl.  Son 2 just ate and ate and ate.  The Man wasn’t doing the pumpkin soup, and made himself leftover chicken with pasta and pesto.  Son 2 ate that too.

I wanted to go the fireworks.  Son 2 was clearly exhausted, and there was some discussion about Nanna babysitting while the three of us went out.  Son 1 cuddled Son 2 and cuddled me: ” I want us all to go.”  We took a taxi up to the display.  We started talking to the firemen outside. “You’re going to miss it if you don’t hurry,” said one. “They wouldn’t have said that if you were 18 and blonde,” said The Man.  Fab fireworks.  We’d taken the Big Pram so Son 2 could sleep in it while we all walked back.  Son 1 decided he was going to sit in it.  “Put it down, I want to go to sleep.”  So I did.  So he did.  Son 2 fell asleep in the sling.  Our pram is 0 - 3.  Our sling is 0 - 1.  We had a four year old in the pram, and a 13m old in the sling.  So we stopped off in a pub for a drink.  And had a great time.  Till Son 2 woke up, as he always does, and we walked home through The Town, with the skies flashing and explosions echoing across the evening.

1.  Blur

2.  Breathless

3.  Bliss

A bit of a grind at The Office. Had to go early because of VIP visitors, and then had two hour presentation at lunchtime.  Non stop.  So, didn’t feel I saw very much of Son 1 aged 3 y 10m or Son 2 aged 10m this morning.  Fed Son 2, got him downstairs, posted another spoonful of food in his mouth every time I whirled past his high chair, and then fled upstairs to get ready as soon as I’d packed his lunch.  Then out of the house, waving goodbye to The Man, standing there holding Son 2, and Son 1 running to the gate in his socks to wave back.

Finally after all the action, I was tearing round The Big Town gathering stuff for The Man’s birthday. He rang.  He was busy.  Could I get the boys from nursery.  Er.. no.  Still too much to do left back at The Office.  Fine.  He will have to get them, wait till I’m home and then go back to work.  Then Glamorous 22 year old Graduate (not a student any more) rang. At work in The Happening Town, but feeling unwell.  Came to The Big Town on the bus, and I gave her a lift back to The Town.  Which made me very late indeed.

Feeding Son 2, my mind in a fizzy fit over everything that happened today, and everything I still had to do.  And then… little eyelashes on a pale cheek, the feel of a fat little arm against mine… the size of a little fist compared with my hand, a stroke of the soft downey head… and very slowly I came back to the present.  I always (try to) feed Son 2 to sleep, and then I stand up, and his head flops over to my right shoulder; his sign that he’s ready to go in his cot.  Some nights I can’t get away from him, but tonight he was exhausted after nursery and was comatose when I pulled the cot side up.  And went in to Son 1 for a round of Pumpkin Soup.  The Best You Ever Tasted.