1.  Good Behaviour

2.  Best Behaviour

3.  Bad Behaviour

The Man got back yesterday, so this morning was easier.  We were at School on time, and I had, for the first time this week, got the right combination of books in Son 1 aged 5’s bag. The Jolly Phonics book; we are currently doing e-e-e-e-e-e, the Reading Book; in which Biff, Chip and Kipper’s no-need-to-work parents take them places, have fun and cook Proper Food, and the Homework Book with Things To Draw and Letters To Write.  I got a smiley sticker from Son 1’s Teaching Assistant as a reward, and I wore it with pride.

Driving, I stopped to take a phone call, and pulled over on a yellow line - no parking from 1 May till 30 September.  There was one other car on it.  I reversed back towards it. Crunch.  Oh hell.  It was a proper crunch, not just a bump, to be waved off with my dear old Dad’s “Bumpers Is For Bumping” motoring motto.  Opposite me, a coach driver, sat outside a hotel, watching. I took a long time on my phone call. And I thought about the Good Samaritan who put my Nappy Bag, containing cards, purse and phone, on my doorstep after I’d left it in the road. I wrote my note. “Sorry, I’ve reversed into your car. If there’s any damage call Serenedays on XXXXXXXXXX.”  I got out to look at the other car.  I’m not very good at cars. I have to read the make and model from the back. This one was a 4.2 litre Jaguar with a personalised number plate.  Ah. And I thought there was a scuff on the number plate, and a possible scuff on the gleaming paintwork. But I didn’t dare touch them to see if they’d come off. Not a mark on mine. I left my note on the windscreen, and off I went.

I looked in the homework book after I’d picked up Son 1 from school.  He only got 2/10, which I thought was a bit harsh.  Until I realised it was the date. He and Son 2 aged 2 wolfed vegetable soup and pasta for tea, and then he wanted to go to the Yacht Club.  We went down, but it was closed. ”Oh come on, will someone open the bar,” said Son 1. What kind of parents have their five-year-old queueing outside pubs?  We trailed away, and then met one of the bar staff arriving to open up. “It’s October,” she said. ”Winter opening times.” The boys played on the grass with some other children. The tide was high and the river was still. We sat and watched the boats on the moorings and the reflected lights from the docks.   The Jaguar owner didn’t ring. And now I am a bit worried he (why do I know it’s a ‘he’?) just thought it was an excuse to leave my name and number on a nice car…

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.  Fungus

2.  Fertiliser

3.  Photos

A ridiculously long, complicated day, involving a drive over to The City which meant I wasn’t home till 8pm… then a quick night night to Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Son 2 aged 23 m, who’d been kept up specially, and then zooming out again for an Office Thing. We were up daftly early though, so I did have time to read to Son 2 this morning.  He pointed at a mushroom in a picture book. “Mush mush.”  Hmmm.  I spend hours each week patiently going through piles of children’s books with Son 2. They are very heavily centred on cartoon cats and dogs, jungles and farm animals, vehicles and babies. Mushrooms don’t really come into it.  I’ve told him what they are a couple of times - on the odd occasion he’s been through the veg box before I’ve had chance to put it away. Clearly a genius. Or possibly something to do with Wonder Nanny. 

I fetched the hairbrush to brush Son 2’s hair. “Me do,”  he said firmly.  And for the poppers on his sleepsuit.  He also wants to wee in the loo. Won’t use his potty. Doesn’t want to use the booster seat.  Just wants to stand up on the plastic step and point.  I went into the bathroom to see Son 1 and Son 2, starkers, Son 2 on the step and  Son 1 beside him gently holding Son 2’s willy while he weed in the loo.  Both with beaming smiles.  Sorry, but I’m leaving that one.  I’m very happy for Son 2 to toilet train himself, and skip all the extra bits of plastic Son 1 used. I still remember having to take the Big Chair Potty to the beach under the Big Pram, because he wouldn’t go in anything else. And I can remember packing a booster seat in the suitcases to take to Portugal.   But if he wants to wee standing up he can hold his own willy. You Do. 

The Man has had some holiday pictures sent to him by the Elegant Aunt. A lovely picture of all four of us sitting on a sofa in the bar area of the holiday village, and others taken in the cafe/pool area. The Man flipped back and forth between them. “Son 2 looks different in this one.  His hair’s longer…”  “No darling, ” I said as gently as I could. “This one - ” the family shot ” - was taken last year, in May 2008. This one -  ” - Son 2 and I, on the terrace, “was taken on this year’s holiday. He’s eight months old in that one, and 20  months old in this one.”

1.  Lies

2.  Damn Lies

3.  Statistics

Last night I worked late and went to bed very late.   Well towards 1am, I tiptoed upstairs, weightless, soundless, I did not breathe.  The Man rolled over, grumbled and switched off the telly.   I took out my contact lenses.  I peered behind me.  Son 1 had teleported in,  lurching round like a drunk. The Man was in the Big Bed, he wanted to lie down, but “Where’s Mummy?” “In the bathroom.”  Son 1 was still bothered by The Man in the Big Bed.  “When you’re not here, if I wake him up when I come to bed, he settles down in your side watching me while I take off my make up and do my teeth, and then I have a little read in bed, and then we both go to sleep.”  The Man harrumphed and  trogged off to the Blue Room.  Yes yes I know that Son 1 will one day be off with She Who Will Never Be Good Enough For Him and I should be Putting My Eggs In The Man’s Basket (this is going badly wrong) but what the hell. It was the way Son 1 just stood patiently at the bedside waiting for his space to become available… 

So this morning I was matchsticks-under-the-eyelids. Another oh God look at the state of the boys, never mind, Wonder Nanny can do it when she gets here, bye, sesh.  I am doing better though on reading to Son 2.  We did our five books.  Pinocchio, for God’s sake. He insisted.  This is Son 1’s library book, the Disney series that everyone has at least 1 of, somewhere.  I should be reading stuff that is Rooted In Reality.  About washing machines and buggies and looking at leaves.  So. Son 2. Gepetto makes this toy, and the only woman in the story, winged, badly drawn, wearing a pillow case,  makes it come alive, and it goes shopping and gets mugged - twice -  and then gets caged, whereupon Gepetto rescues it and they all live happily ever after.  Son 2 couldn’t give a hoot, and wanted it twice. He’s only really looking at the pictures of the nose getting bigger. “Wee wee,” he said, at the end.  I went all the way downstairs to get his potty. He rejected it, sat on Son 1’s old booster seat, and wee-d in the loo. PSB. “Bye bye Mummy,” he said, as I went off to The Office. 

At bedtime, Son 1 gets the book time. We took out 17 from the library, some for Son 2, but most chosen by him. ”Improving your fishing,” has been a bit of a challenge.  I always put at least one book about another country or culture in the pile. ”And the liberal, with a small ‘l’, cries in front of the TV,” sang Billy Bragg when I was Young. ”Coming Home” went in on the strength of a cover drawing of a black woman in a hijab with a small boy. Oh-Good-Islam-Portrayal-Not-Arab-We’ll-Have-It was the quarter second attention it got as I tossed it in.  Hassan is a Somalian refugee.  Son 1 and I have done Somalia, in answer to the “Mummy, are there any pirates now?” question. “There are some very poor people from a very poor country run by bullies and they steal other people’s boats and ships because they Have Nothing.” “What happens to them?” “President Obama (Most Powerful Man In The World.  In answer to: “Who’s that man on your book?”) sent a big ship and told them to stop. Now darling, let’s clear out Son 2’s old toys and take them to Oxfam.”   Hassan’s Uncle is killed by soldiers who burn his house down. Son 1 wanted it twice. ”Is his Uncle dead?” “What happened to the animals?” “Where are his cousins?” “Will it happen here?”  At this point my inner Nanna broke through and I couldn’t resist. “No. Because we are one of the richest countries in the world, and you are such a lucky little boy, and that is why Daddy and I get cross when you don’t realise - ” Son 1 burst into tears. “I’m scared of the soldiers.”  Gepetto was a woodcarver, I said, and one day he made a puppet. 

1.  Punch

2.  Pizzazz

3.  Yahoo

Boy oh boy.  I am still struggling to get up each morning.  When I get the boys up there is fruit for pre-breakfast snacks, to get started on their five-a-day while they’re still hungry.  I dress them.  And I sit with Son 2 aged 22m to read five books - chosen by him, of course. We are very Child Led in our house.  This will Develop His Understanding And Vocabulary. It must take place with no distractions or diversions (ie Son 1 aged 4y 10m) so Son 2 is Focused.  Sticker Books are only allowed in the morning. as they are too exciting before bed.  Trips to the window seat to watch the bin men or recycling lorry are allowed, but only if he comes straight back after.   If I stay in bed, all three of them sit in the lounge in their pyjamas and watch telly till I get up.  This morning I managed to heave myself up and Son 2 and I did our books. Then we went upstairs where Son 1 was watching Aladdin.  I was in a mad rush, but the Genie had just been let out of the lamp and I cannot resist him. We all danced.   I’m In The Mood To Help You Dude. 

I ticked off some things from the To Do list.  Booked hall for Son 1 and Son 2’s joint birthday party.  That’s a Load Off.   Mmm. That may have been Jack Nicholson, not Robin Williams.    So I now have a hall and a Party Leader.   All I need now is a bouncy castle and we’re rocking.  I flew around The Town and got presents and cards for The Man’s birthday.  And a couple of cheap DVDs from HMV for me.     I bought a birthday card for Wonder Nanny’s Other Family’s Mother, who’s having a party tomorrow that we can’t get to  because we were already booked.  I sent an email back to The Boy Who Broke My Heart, who sent me one yesterday.  Regular readers will know he had to phone me, http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/07/19/visitors/ in a very strange collision of our separate, parallel worlds.  We are going to have coffee next time I am in the Teeming Metropolis.  Not.  At least not until I’m the size 12 I was in 1983. 

And I got out for a run.  Unrelated to the last line of 2.  It was, AT LAST, a lovely evening. The Man had planned drinks with a work colleague, so I went out for a quick jog after the boys went to sleep. I ran through The Town, past the Different Coloured Houses Sitting By The Sea,  to Rockpool Beach.  Really lovely.  Very warm, and the tide was in, so I ran along the lower sea wall as the tips of the waves touched it.  The horizon was miles and miles away, the sea was blue and flat, the air felt crisp and clear.  Coming back I heard a cry of “Serenedays!” It was a very young colleague from The Office, freshly shaved, in a very clean, pressed shirt, on his way out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  He thought they would all end up in the Town’s Dodgy Nightclub.  I liked The Town’s early evening atmosphere. Families out… father and sons, matching builds and faces, walking shoulder to shoulder, eating chips from paper… big dock visitors in large, overwashed black tee shirts and thick jeans, smart ladies of a certain age escorted by husbands in chinos and pastel polo shirts… lippy teenagers “Keep running!” and girls in clothes I couldn’t dream of wearing…  I’m very glad I went out.

1.  Try Your Best

2.  Could It Be Worse

3.  Tears Come Streaming

Another one of those days when I didn’t seem to see Son 1 aged 4y 10m or Son 2 aged 22m.  I had to get out pretty quick this morning; and I was late back.  The Man kept them up, but they were pretty wrecked by the time I arrived.  I did some books with Son 2. I’m pleased with his vocab and understanding, although he’s better at vowels than consonents, and has some words he makes up completely. I can understand Bfish for “I have finished my meal” - bfish is Son 2 for fish, and finished, as we all know, sounds just like fish. But A-wa for thank you?  Can’t do that one.  He does a very good Pin Gin for Penguin though. And this morning, when Son 1 said “Bor-ring,” Horrid Henry-style, Son 2 did a perfect “Bor-ring” in echo.

Today was also a day when within two hours, I spoke to three different people doing Real Life far more intensely than me. First was the Old Friend from years back, separated at Christmas, made redundant early this year, and now scratching around for jobs paying barely half what she earned before. Then was another Old Friend from years back, someone made redundant 10 years ago, who has since then worked hard, steadily and well, and is now, through being a very pleasant, fab person, enjoying spectacular success.  

And then a Father I know, talking about his gravely ill child.    I swallowed, I surreptitiously touched water away from the corner of my eye when he wasn’t looking, I concentrated on my breathing.  When he got to the part about a bleak decision he and his wife have had to take I burst into tears. Just what you need when you’re telling someone how appalling your world is.   I finished off at The Office, I came home.  Son 1 and Son 2 cuddled, kissed, and Son 1 said “I love you Son 2.”  Son 2 cried when Son 1 said night night and blew him his kisses.    I cannot imagine life without them.

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.  Words

2.  Pictures

3.  Action

I woke at 4am and couldn’t go back to sleep.  At 5am I went downstairs with Vikram Seth’s Two Lives.  A Wednesday Mother is running her book club this month and we are all reading it so we can go along.  A Suitable Boy defeated me.  I can’t remember why, especially as I’m really enjoying this one.  And I’m usually good at persevering.  I think the only other one I abandoned, bored, baffled and bewildered, was Ulysses.  One miserable summer when I decided I would only read mind-enriching work.  I escaped into  Harlan Coben and wouldn’t come out for months afterwards.   The Man came down at 0530, and then decided he’d have another go at going back to sleep.  And next thing I heard from upstairs was the shower running. 

Son 1 aged 4y 6m wet the bed and Son 2 aged 18m did a mighty poo that went through his pyjamas.  The Man showered Son 1 and stripped the bed while I pressure-washed Son 2.  Into the bath together.  Two shiny wet faces, looking up smiling. They’re grrrreat.  Our morning routine destroyed, we ended up in the lounge.  Son 1 was pulling out the train track; Son 2 was pressing the button to make the DVD drawer come out and go back in again.  And removing the Sky card.  And taking the DVDs out and putting them somewhere.  Poor Cars.  We’ve only had it five days and it has been posted somewhere that only Son 2 knows about.

We went to a Family Fun Day at the local secondary school.  Loads of activities, all free.  Son 1 loved it. He skateboarded and ran round with Best Friend.  Son 2 was harder.  I spent a lot of time trying to catch up the others with the Big Pram in a school riddled with stairs. And then packed it up in the car and carried him.  Son 1 was playing on the skateboards, but Son 2 just wanted to run around.  In an area where 10 year olds on BMXs were swooping back and forth between ramps.  He was tired, strong-willed, deeply interested, not old enough and more than I could manage.  We went inside.  Son 1 waited for half an hour for a dinosaur balloon from the Balloon Man. And then we went outside and Son 2 ran around, picking daisies and crunching up fallen leaves.  The sun blazed down.  Son 1 stripped to his pants and played with Best Friend.  His Mother and I finally got to sit on the grass.  Until Son 2 spotted a gap between some classrooms and started his usual bid for freedom.  

I put Son 1 to bed, lying next to him.  And fell asleep.  The Man woke me when he went to bed at 11pm.  I still needed to work… and stopped at 1am.

1.  Writing

2.  Talking

3.  Reading

I have been back at The Office, full-time, for One Whole Year.  I just read my blogs from March last year.  Pang.  Little six-month-old Son 2.  I know I’ve done brilliantly keeping at work, keeping well, keeping everything together and keeping time with the boys sacred.  Keeping at The Blog, which I think has helped ward off depression.   But Pang Oh Pang.  You really don’t get it back, do you?  Thankfully I have a week off now, which is why I’m writing this so late. It always takes me forever to finish on Fridays before I have leave.  Stinking cold.  Exhausted. And I’ve been reading a year ago, when I was hoping to get back into my pre-pregnancy clothes.  Wouldn’t it be great if you lost weight wnen you cut down on your sleep?  Much fairer to mothers.

Little 18 month old Son 2 is sliding down the stairs on his tummy now.  Fast. With a daredevil grin.  A year ago he was just on solids, and just had his first teeth.  Now he wants the Wiggles on the telly, he wants a smoothie from the shopping, he can say bear, and ba (for bath, sheep and ball) and dum dum for dump truck and di di for digger.  And bye bye and mama and hallo, and mi for milk. And snap snap for crocodile. Accompanied by a dance. And a point at the DVD pile. 

Son 1 aged 4 y 6m finished at Nursery for Easter today.  He lay on his bed this evening and looked up at his animal alphabet wall chart, sounding out the start of all the letters.  Foxed a bit by N. And baffled by Q.  He also for the first time stopped me in a story to sound out the letters of a word m-on- k-ey.  I was thrilled, but none of it is anything to do with me.  I’ve deliberately not taught him to read because I Do Not Believe In Forcing Boys To Read Too Early. It Will Put Them Off.  Nothing to do with never having a minute to sit down with him.  26 letters and 40ish sounds?   I haven’t got the time.  Just that year.  Sitting in cyberspace. Maybe one day he’ll read about himself.

1.  The Very Busy Spider

2.   Peter Pan

3.   Bob The Builder

Son 1 aged 4y 5m and Son 2 aged 18m both slept through.   Three Reasonable Nights’ sleep out of four.  With cat-like tread I tiptoed downstairs.  0615.  Son 2 woke.  Son 1 woke.  We went downstairs in search of The Man, who’d gallantly slept on the lounge floor so he didn’t wake me up after a night in the pub. They invaded his makeshift bed.    We gathered snacks and drinks.  The Man and Son 1 vanished upstairs, and Son 2 and I started his books.  He had The Very Busy Spider three times.  The first library book I may have to go out and buy.   He can’t do the names of any of the animals, but he can neigh like a horse, moo like a cow, baa like a sheep and a goat, woof like a dog, miaow like a cat, quack like a duck and crow like a cockeral.  It really made him have a go at speaking. He loved it.

Son 1 didn’t squawk about going to Nursery.  He dressed himself, ate all his tub, and tumbled out of the house in plenty of time.  We listened to the end of Peter Pan on the way: “Oh Peter, Is There Anything You Can’t Do?”  I’m getting quite fond of Peter Pan.  For a 100 year old story, it’s not bad. A great plot, some raw mother-child bonding stuff,  three fairly strong female characters and a disabled anti-hero.  Son 1 went straight in without a whimper.

A grim Office Day.  I didn’t get breakfast or lunch, and wanted to snack as soon as I got back.  The boys wanted me.  I left them upstairs and went down for soup.  Before it was even in the bowl, I could hear Son 2 screaming and sobbing.  I went back up.  Blood and snot was pouring out of his nose and he was loud and hysterical.  “What happened?”  I asked Son 1. “I put a muslin on the floor and he fell over.”  In the bath, four little fingermarks were clearly visible on Son 2’s back.  “What happened?” I asked again.  “I put a muslin on his back and he fell over.” After Son 2 had gone to sleep, and Son 1 was in his bed I asked him again. “I’m not lying,” he said.  “Show me what happened on Bob Bob.”  Son 1 punched his soft toy Bob the Builder on the back so hard he flew across the bed.  Son 2’s lip has split open again.  I am going to take him back to the doctor tomorrow and give a little bit of helpful feedback on the caring hospital doctor who told me it was a superficial graze which wouldn’t scar.