1.  Palava

2.  Pyjamas

3.  Perfidy

I am back online, hooray hooray. Got knocked out in a rainstorm. Palava. Now sorted.  In summary: The Man went on Business Trip; Granny and Granddad here; Wednesday Friend is now 5, which means a rack of 5th birthdays coming up;  The Man back from Business Trip; Nanna babysat while Granny, Granddad, The Man and I went out for a meal at Nice Restaurant.

And here I am.  Not even a particularly Good Day to come back on. I left early, and did a Big Shop so got back late. Hardly saw the boys.  I doubled parked to unload the shopping.  A little figure aged 22m, in pyjamas was standing in the 2nd floor window, the blackout blind pulled down behind him, looking down at me.   I waved.  He looked and looked. I heaved the shopping out on to the pavement, I heaved the first bags into the house. Son 1 aged 4y 10m pelted downstairs, also in pyjamas. “Mummee, Mummee.”  The Man came down with Son 2. “I need to park the car,” I said. “You have him and I’ll park the car,” he said, dumping Son 2 into my arms. ”They’ve both had their baths and Son 1’s cleaned his teeth but Son 2 hasn’t.” At least that’s what I thought he said. 

“Son 1, come here and I’ll clean your teeth.” “They’re clean. You need to do Son 2’s.”  I sat Son 2 on my knee and carefully cleaned his teeth.  He has a cut lip.  The Man came back. “Why are you cleaning his teeth?” He said. “I’ve done them. It’s Son 1 who needs doing.” Son 1 cackled in delight. “I got you!”  It was Book Club night for me and Son 1.  He has as many books as he likes. He chose his entire Disney set. I got away with 11, because we’ve lost The Incredibles.

1.  Blood

2.  Sweat

3.  Tears

Son 1 aged 4y 9m woke drowsily last night at midnight when I went to give him a goodnight kiss, and then followed me up to the Big Bed.  This morning I woke up and gazed across at his cherubic sleeping features… his long eyelashes still on his cheeks… masses of dried blood in his nostrils and on his lip and chin… and a great, dried stain of blood circled out from his nose on the changed-on-Sunday  sheet. He clearly still had bloody snot/snotty blood up his nose just from the sound his breathing was making, but I had Son 2 aged 22m yelling “Mummeeee” from downstairs so I just left him.  Does anyone know anything about  nosebleeds?  I think I’ll give him one more before I take him to the doctor.

All did not go to plan today.  Massively tired after yesterday’s excursion.  The car was booked in for an MOT and service. I turned the house upside down looking for my driving licence for the courtesy car. In the end I rang the garage: “Oh just come over, we’ll ring the DVLA.”  I did though remember to take my running kit to The Office. I’ve been getting good at going out again, and I’ve been enjoying it, and I didn’t want to let my fitness drop while The Man is away. Which means running at lunchtime. So, at 1330, I changed into bras, tee-shirt, shorts, socks… and then realised I had two left running shoes.  One from my old pair - which I’d used in the garden at the weekend - and one from the new pair. 

I worked like the clappers all afternoon so I could finish in time to collect the car before the garage shut, and let Wonder Nanny go home at her normal time.  At just the right moment to go there was a torrential rainstorm. Great cracks of thunder, whiteout lightning, hoofing it down. I waited and waited and waited. The sky was black, the air was dark, the traffic had stopped and there was water pooling and swirling in the car park.  I went for it.  It was 200 yards to my car.  I could not have got more wet if someone had stood emptying skiploads of water over me.  I took off my three-inch heels in the car and tipped out the water on the ground outside.  The rain was bouncing off the puddles like ricocheting bullets.  My mac was soaked, my skirt was soaked, my shirt was soaked.  My hair looked like I’d just come up from a dive.  The storm passed as I drove to the garage. As soon as I got out of the car there was another downpour.  I am, I suppose, lucky in many other ways.

1.  Someone To Care For

2.  To Be There For

3.  I Have You Two

We slept in till 7am. I heard a wail from Son 2 aged 19m downstairs in his cot at some point… and I woke wearing Son 1 aged 4y 6m like a scarf.  Downstairs they gobbled rice cakes and Philadelphia. Then Son 1 watched Treasure Island, which he’d been given by my Old Friend yesterday.  Son 2 and I read, showered and then we all went up to the Big Bedroom and sorted laundry.   This was a Good Thing, as it can be hard with two under-fives wrecking piles and throwing small socks around.  The secret was to let them help.    They both got very bored and wandered off to unwind loo rolls instead. 

The Wednesday Friends were going to the New Play Centre.  I don’t go there any more, so we went back to the Hotel Pool.  We were joined by another Friend and her Three Year Old. This is the pool too deep for the children to put their feet down anywhere.  Son 1 had a brilliant time, swimming/running or jumping for nearly an hour.  Son 2 loved it too, relaxed in his little baby wetsuit, floating on his armbands, sinking himself by rolling over and then coming up smiling.  Son 1 alternated between the arm bands and the noodle, but was brilliantly confident.  He needs a little more help though with his Awareness Of Other Pool Users scores.   There was a grim lane-counter in a red swimming hat who was unsmiling and uncommunicative about her several near-misses from Son 1’s exhuberant jumping.  I lectured him.  But the New Me also kinda thought… Wet Wednesday in the school holidays, not a good time to pick for training…

The heaviest rainstorm I can remember, machine-gunning into the car roof.  The marvellous Parking Fairy put us right outside the house.  I mis-timed everything, we were out over lunch; I gave the boys chocolate eggs as their after-swim treat.  They were exhausted, sugared-up and hungry.  When we got in at nearly 3pm I gave them a picnic in front of the telly.  Popcorn, sausages, grapes, celery, carrots, peppers and kiwi fruit.  They gorged themselves on popcorn, ate the sausages and grapes, most of the peppers and some of the carrots.  Son 2 was a thug.  He tried to hog all the popcorn, pushing Son 1 away from the bowl. He tipped all the food off the plate onto the floor.  He took pieces of popcorn and threw them down the stairs, laughing madly.  He did a mega poo and I changed him, putting him back in the lounge with just his nappy on while I found him some fresh clothes.  I came back upstairs and he’d taken his nappy off and was running up and down naked, waving it above his head.   I made them a tortilla for tea, my usual guilt-trip of “why am I wasting time cooking when i should be playing with them?” made worse by me thinking they wouldn’t eat because of their picnic.  They wolfed it. We sang “I Have You Two” from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.  Then they wolfed jelly. And fromage frais.  Well, Son 1 ate the jelly and fromage frais. Son 2 mixed it together and used it to re-point the high chair.

1.  Christmas Play

2.  Play Date

3.  Cold Play

Our First School Play.  We Are So Proud.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was a robin.  Brown tights, brown long-sleeved tee-shirt, red belly tied round his tummy.  Painted brown nose.  He had to flap a lot with the other robins, and looked very worried throughout.  But all the best robins look worried.  How the other parents must have wished their children weren’t on stage with ours.  Eclipsed, outshone, overshadowed by the best robin ever.  We of course was robbed, and he should have been Joseph.    Only that was Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser’s son.  A non-speaking part.  And he had a tea-towel on his head so no-one could see how well his hair was cut by his Mummy.

We only just made it back home before some of our Wednesday Friends arrived for tea.  They are mid extension-building, and are now down to just a microwave to cook with.  I’d made stew.  Farmshop meat, organic everything, mash, broccoli/cauli and cheese sauce.  The Man, the Mother and I wolfed ours.  The children - Son 1, Son 2 aged 14m, and the guests, boys aged 4 and 2 - ate nothing.  The Man begrudgingly agreed that the leftovers could go home with the Mother to her partner, who was putting an extra coat on the kitchen.  Son 1 and his friends ate iced buns.  The icing off the iced buns that is.

The children went down to sleep relatively easily, but it was very late.  At 10 past 8 I went downstairs.  The lounge looked like a plane wreck.  The dressing up box had been looted and spread out over the carpet.  Various bits of various outfits were hanging up on the stairgate.  The kitchen had dirty pans, plates and plastic pots on every surface.  And The Man had gone to bed.  I went for a run.  And I started thinking positively.  The lounge wouldn’t take long to do.  The kitchen would be easy.  It rained.  This is ok, I thought.  I’m a runner.  I’m getting wet, but I don’t care.  The rain got heavier and heavier.  Being positive, I thought, at least it’s not too cold, and at least it’s not windy.  It pelted down.  So hard that yard-wide puddles appeared before me… so hard my hair was plastered to my head, so hard my feet were squelching in my socks.   Then I reached half way.  When I finally arrived home I was drenched through and freezing. And The Man had tidied the lounge, and was making a start on the kitchen.