1. In Reality

2.  A Nightmare

3.  Dream Finish

Son 2 aged 23m is speaking in whole sentences, and I haven’t noticed.  “Great receptive language,” I had expertly told myself, “expressive a bit behind Son 1 now aged 4y 11m at his age.” This morning. “Ah Wah Wotsh Madda Da Da.”  I Want To Watch Madagascar.  “Ah Wah Pess Buh Buh.” While I was on my laptop. I Want To Press The Buttons.   Hey ho. There was me thinking, when I get a minute, when I remember, I’ll put all the single words he can do on my blog so I’ll have a record… including all those exciting two-word sentences like “Mummy car,” and “Me Do” (See Yesterday.)  And all the time he’s near enough on “You Must Never Go Down To The End Of THe Town Unless You Go Down With Me.”

I had another one of my anxiety dreams.  I was in the kitchen, making Jamie Oliver fish pie for tea. Son 2 wanted to stand on a chair and wash the potatoes. Son 1 insisted on doing it too. Son 1 wanted to peel the carrots, so I let him “Look! Look! My first carrot! It’s not bad, is it?”  Son 2 wanted to as well, so we had to see if he could do it. “Don’t touch the blade. Sharp. Dangerous.”  The Man said the sauce was too rich last time, so I used full cream milk, and it curdled when I added lemon juice. No matter what I did, the finished meal didn’t get any nearer the oven. Both boys were going nuts with hunger.  Son 1 was supposed to grate a big slab of cheese for my rescue sauce. He ate the lot. The boys were stroppy, The Man was stroppy, the pie still wasn’t in the oven. It was 1720 and it wasn’t a dream. ”I’ll just be five minutes and then I can get it in to cook!” I wailed. 

“I’ll take them for a walk,” said The Man.  “See if the Yacht Club’s open!” I called. “Then I can come back here and switch it off after half an hour.”  Son 2 ran for the door. “And me!”  The bar was open. The boys played with their toy golf set on the lawn. The Man had a couple of pints, I had a couple of glasses of wine. Dark grey, low clouds flew by above the river in front of us… we had a light blue patch high overhead. It was great.  A snatched al fresco playhour. We came back. The pie looked good.  The boys were too tired and wired to eat it.

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.  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.  Cuddling

2.  Waiting

3.  Laughing

Court didn’t start till 1030, so, in principle, I had a nice slow start this morning.   Son 2 aged 20m woke up and I snuggled in the Double Bed with him.  The child who has never liked lying still in bed is  becoming delightfully tolerant of 15 - 20 minutes’ cuddling.  I pin my hopes on his going back to sleep; he pretends to have a doze and then crawls off with an “Up.” I put Cars on for Son 2 aged 4y 8m and  Son 2 and I did some books.  Bear Hunt was a great success.  The Man rang… and we all sat in the bay window and waited for Wonder Nanny. 

Court didn’t actually start till very late.  I’m getting to like the waiting around. Everyone brings books and papers but we don’t read them, we just sit and chat, chat, chat.  It’s very Big Brother/Lost, as people’s backgrounds and stories slowly emerge.  I was the cliffhanger today.  “Was the baby all right yesterday?”  Of course he was. It was Mummy who suffered.   

I walked past the window as I got home and saw Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and Son 2 sitting demurely at the table having tea. And then within seconds of my arriving, the whole thing had disintegrated. Son 2 was wailing to be picked up, Son 1 was in a sulk and the noise levels were rocketing.   “I think I’d better have a glass of wine,” I said. Son 2 shrieked in excitement and leaned over my shoulder.  He was pointing at the wine rack.  20 months old and he knows his way round alcohol.  Oops, said Bridget. We waved Wonder Nanny off.  We had a pretty good natured books and bathtime… with both boys standing up in the shower together, looking wet and shiny and gorgeous.  After, we went into Son 1’s room, where I read How Does A Dinosaur Say Goodnight to both of them before I take Son 2 off to sleep.  They both started blowing brilliantly rude-sounding raspberries on my tummy, reducing all three of us to helpless laughter.  Son 1 is a master at comedy slobby farty noises… and Son 2 did some crackers too.  They both loved making me laugh.  Even when I was putting Son 2 down in his cot, with the usual bend my head right over to be near his, he was still trying to find something soft to use for flobber noises.

1.  Explorer

2.  Miracle Worker  

3.  Communicator

I worked long and late last night.  At midnight I heard coughing from upstairs, then creaking, then little mouse footprints. I peered up into the gloom. “Son 1, I can’t see you up there, it’s too dark. If you’re there, come on down.” A little wraith aged 4y 7m in white pyjamas plopped down the stairs.  I switched the computer off and we went downstairs to make my go-to-bed cup of peppermint tea. He wanted something to eat.  I gave him a yoghurt, and he sat at the dining table, scoffing it. Upstairs I put him in the Big Bed while I got ready for bed.  “I’m going to have a little read before I go to sleep,” I said, getting my book out.  “I want your eyebrow,” he said, his little fingers heading straight for it. I put the light out and fell asleep straight away. No idea what he did.

Son 2 aged 19m’s spots are starting to scab over, and he’s starting to pick them off.  He is using the “boh” sound he does for “Box” for his spots… gestures at his tummy and goes “Boh!”  “Are they sore?” I asked.  He nodded madly.  Poor, poor little cherub. Son 1 and I took out a library book with pictures of leopards, ladybirds, spotted fish, giraffes, peacocks, ocelots, dalmatians etc. It’s called “Lots Of Spots.” Well, we think it’s funny.   Wonder Nanny, who is Practically Perfect,  said “Aqueous Calamine Cream.  Only Superdrug sell it. Best thing for chickenpox.”  Son 2 has been so much better since we started slathering him in it.  His willy and groin area have calmed down a bit, but the spots are still raging.  The third nipple on his chest which started it all off is the size of a 5p.

I sat on the bed reading to Son 2 this morning.  For once, Son 1, upstairs watching cartoon nuclear wars on CITV, didn’t disturb us.  Oh no, spoke too soon.  Plodding down the stairs.   Carrying the phone to me.  The Man says he will be back tomorrow night.  He says his flights are booked. I will believe it when I see it.  Son 1 hadn’t finished with him and took the phone back.  “No more adventures, Daddy, if they’re going to take this long.”

1.  I Told You I Was Trouble

2.  Trying To Fix You

3.  Sunshine On A Rainy Day

Son 2 aged 19m’s skin is awful.  The blisters are angry, red and wet.  Except the big ones behind his ear and on his willy, which are red round the bottom with a huge, wet, white blob on the top.  There are so many red blotchy ones in his nappy creases that they all run together in an inflamed red line.  They’re all over his head and today, they’ve just started popping out on his face.  Serve me right for being so precious about the scar on his lip.  Now he’s got a boil on his eyebrow and a crop of them on his cheek.  His nappy area is so bad that this morning I let him roam nappy free. He was in the kitchen playing with some toys, I was upstairs with the ironing. ”Wee wee!” I heard him call.  I went down.  He had pooed and weed in the big plastic toybox, smeared poo all over the sides, trod wee all around the kitchen and had brown smudges of poo on his legs.  Half an hour later he did another one, and this time smeared my posh pyjamas. I gave up and put us both in the shower. After I’d finished, he sat there with the shower trained on the spots on his back, staring ahead vacantly. 

I took him down to the Lounge to calamine him up.  He batted my hands away. Son 1 aged 4y 7m was interested in the cotton wool balls.  “You could paint Son 2’s spots if we found you a brush,” I said absently.  He vanished. Wonder Nanny and I continued with the task in hand.  Really hard.  Son 2 does not like being calamined. He is a fast, sure, controlled mover and we are no match for him.  Son 1 returned with a paintbrush.  I felt the bristles. “No you can’t use that on his spots. It’s too rough. I’ll go and find you a make up brush.” ” I like this one,” said Son 1. “It’s blue. “ When I came back down, Son 2 was standing naked in the sunshine on the windowseat, dabbing his own spots with a great wadge of cotton wool, while Wonder Nanny and Son 1 coloured in the rest of him.

I had booked leave today, and Son 1 wanted to go to the Aquarium. We arrived and had lunch. Son 2 was grouchy, whining and clingy. He’s eating very little at the moment, but grabbing sweet things whenever he can. There may be trouble ahead.  We went round, Son 1 chirping excitedly, Son 2 pointing and demanding to be lifted up. ”Dzar!” he can say, in a clear word meant to be Shark.  And, the triumph: “Ray!”  “Ray!” at the big rays. Clear, correct, and repeated at the top of his little boy voice, often.  Inspired, when I got home I wrote out all the words he can say.  He’s got a vocabulary of about 50 words, which I just didn’t realise.  All this time I’ve been Not Worrying Because Second Children Talk Later… when in fact he’s been building up his speech quite nicely.

1.  Comprehending

2.  Coconuts

3.  Clarifying

Son 2 aged 19m wept, tantrumed and screamed as Son 1 aged 4y 7m and I left the house this morning.  In Wonder Nanny’s arms, he gazed through the window at us as we got in the car.  It’s borne in on me that the poor little mite has no way of understanding why Mummy and Son 1 are going off together and leaving him.   Memo.  Lots of books about school/nursery from now on.   Stick with him the whole weekend.    He started his tantrum about 20 minutes before we left, when I did my usual slow, clear and repetitive “Mummy and Son 1 are going to say goodbye.”  So Being Positive, another Sign Of Excellent Receptive Language.

Son 1 and I went to Tesco for a Big Shop after I picked him up from Nursery.  He was amazingly well-behaved.   We spotted marked-down coconuts in the yellow-sticker trays.  “My whole life I have always wanted a coconut,” he said, sitting in the 15 kg max weight seat and stripping some of the fibre off the shell.  “Mummy how do we open it?”  ” I don’t know, I can’t remember.  I thought you wanted to make a hole in it and drink the milk. ” “Yes I do, but what shall we use?”  “I don’t know, we’ll have to wait till we get home and see what we’ve got.  We used to have hours of fun trying to get into coconuts when I was small.”  “What did you do to get in?”  “Don’t know, my dad used to do it. Smashed them to smithereens.”  “How did he smash them?”  “Can’t remember. I think he used to just throw them on the floor, very hard.”  Son 1 peered down over the side of the shopping trolley.    ”Don’t even think about it,” I growled.

He behaved impeccably, didn’t pester, didn’t whine, got down from the trolley and trotted around happily holding his coconut. “They have these in Aloha Scooby Doo.”  So back home I showed him the paddling pool I’d bought from TK Maxx.  He can’t wait.  But the weather has turned, and a loud lightning/driving rain thunderstorm moved slowly over us this evening.  “I don’t mind playing in it in the rain.”  I got into a coconut hole with a metal skewer.  Wonder Nanny stuck a straw in so Son 1 could, like Shaggy and Scooby drink the milk.  “I don’t like it.”   Son 1 brought Son 2 a book about fish back from Nursery.  Son 2 is obsessed with it.   He has a word for Shark, and Boat, and Bus, and Please, and Banana, and Car, and Down, and Upstairs and Outside, and Bubble.  Still not quite recognisable to anyone except those who adore him… but we think he is a Miraculous, Magical Marvel.

1. Such A Perfect Day

2.  I’m Glad I Spent It With You

3. We Go Home

in July 2007, seven months pregnant, I gave up a walk I used to do twice a week… through The Town, past All The Different Coloured Houses Sitting By The Sea, and either up the Headland to the swimming pool, or over the hump to the Rockpool Beach.  The walk was a big part of life for me, the Big Pram, and Son 1, now aged 4y 6m.  Fat and knackered, I started driving. Son 2, now aged 19m arrived, and moved into the Big Pram.  And Son 1was always exhausted from his hyper-Mummy activities and could never walk further than about a mile without wanting to sleep.  Today, the sky blue, the sunshine bright, the water turquoise, we took a picnic, the beach suits, the swimming things, and the Big Pram, and went shopping for a Wet Suit for Son 1.   Before he’d gone 50 yards he was clinging to our neighbours’ railings refusing to move.  Too tired.  Needed a carry.  Wanted to go in The Pram.  Wanted to go home.  Couldn’t possibly make it all the way to the Discount Store.  He made it to the Discount Store, and we got him his wetsuit.  Then a Fab lolly, to be eaten behind The Pram, so Son 2 (nothing suitable for him on the Van) wouldn’t know.   Son 2 has excellent receptive language, tossed off his shoulder straps and levered himself round the big hood to lean back and check out what Son 1 was eating.   Two Mini milks, bought at the Spar shop near the Different Coloured Houses.   And then to the Rockpool Beach, which was covered in a thick layer of stinky seaweed. Who cares.  Son 1 did it. Walked all the way. We are Back. 

They were both exhausted after day upon day of trips out, so my plan was to spread out the mat, have our picnic, and then have a slow walk back again.  Nope.  Son 1 was straight in the sunsuit and off up the rocks.   Son 2, crying to get out of the Pram, was soon in his wetsuit swimming costume, sunsuit top and Legionnaire’s hat.   He scooped up sand and gravel and threw it in the sea. 10,000 times. Son played with a sandcastle someone left at the tideline, and then bounced back to play with Son 2.  Find a piece of seaweed and use it as a lasso, sending sand and flicky green muck over everything. I drank coffee from my flask while I stood over them.  Son 2 sat in the water, threw stones, patted it and splashed, laughing.   It was heavenly.  The water was greeny-blue, cormorants were diving a little way out from the shoreline, the sun was scorching hot.  Eventually, even in the blazing sunshine, Son 2 got cold.  We had lunch, the three of us sitting on our mat, Son 2 pestering mildly for Son 1’s Ben 10 drinks bottle, Son 1 drinking Son 2’s Frubes.  We sang “Someone to Care For.”  Son 2 threw sand in the bagels.

I got them dressed and loaded up the Pram.  It had been hard work hauling the Pram over sand made up of tiny stones… so on the way out I decided to pull it over the seaweed.  It was much easier over the seaweed lying on the beach… which was dry, yet on a flat surface.  But then I hit a great river of seaweed on rock.  No drainage.  Stinking, sludgey, slimey, each foot sinking 8  inches into bogwater with every step.  The Pram nearly capsized on a rock.  i heaved it up the concrete slope to the top of the cliff and tried to get the pondscum out from between my toes with a baby wipe.   Then I put on my Salvatore Ferragmo pumps (a relic from the Olden Days) for the walk back.  Son 1 did it, again. Not a complaint, not a suggestion that he should be carried.  Just strolled along playing Lightning McQueen, walk along the top of walls, goblins-in-jail with railings and chat to  Son 2 whenever he looked like having a doze.     But again, he did it.  Two and a half miles, with 2 hours’ play inbetween.  He was a amazing.  Both boys were a joy to be with today.  No stresses, no hurrying, just a very relaxing afternoon on the Beach. We left the house just before 11.. we didn’t get back till after 1630.  We only went out for a little shop and a picnic lunch…