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.  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.  Jamming Till The Break Of Dawn

2.  Hotter Than July

3.  Rhythms In The Park

Too Darn Hot. The Man padded up and down the stairs in the night, a great, uncomfortable bear with a sore back, sore ankle and a bad case of overheating. Son 1 aged 4y 9m arrived in The Big Bed at 3am. “My room is too hot.”  His room was too hot. I’d closed the door to shut out the light to try to keep the little beggar in bed first thing in the morning.  I heard Son 2 aged 21m roaring “Mummeee!” The Man’s in there, I thought, he can get him up. Then grizzling: “I’s dhuk!” “I’s dhuk!” Oh God, I thought, scrabbling up. Where’s he got himself stuck… has he fallen in his cot… is he ok… He was in the Double Bed. The Man had him in a cuddled half-Nelson to keep stop him snaking off in his sleeping bag. “Dhuk!” “Dhuk!”  

We went to the Rockpool Beach to meet a Wednesday Mother and her three and a half year old.  Incredibly hot.  The tide was on its way in, so we only had a strip of rock and sand… which we more or less filled with two pushchairs and a beach mat.  Son 2 played with water, Son 1 was crotchety, I looked for cowries and found three.      The Wednesday Mum has a spirited child, and is enjoying my new childcare book,  “Honey I Wrecked The Kids,” so much she plans to get her own.  Drop The Rope is our new motto (for when you are in a tug-of-war power struggle with a child…) 

Son 1’s Nursery was holding a Pirate Afternoon, and he wanted to go. So. We went for ice creams, stopped off at The House for his Captain Hook costume, and drove over to The Big Town.  We dropped him off and Son 2 and I went to play in The Park. I had visions of us having Wonder Nanny-style hours of play together.  He wanted to watch teenagers playing tennis.  He grasped the principles at once, saying loud ”Uh-oh”s every time they fluffed a shot or hit the net.  He picked up feathers (Feh Feh,) pointed at dogs, had a little swing and played on the slide ladder. He wouldn’t go on the slide. “Hot.” “It isn’t hot darling, feel it.” Wouldn’t touch it. “Hot.”  Clearly a hot slide issue on another day, at another playground. I had some iced water in a flask and I poured him some.  Not interested in the water. Very interested in pressing the buttons on the top of the flask and pouring it out. Two hours later we picked up an exhausted Son 1 and went home.  The boys watched Ice Age 2 while The Man and I made stir fry.  “Mummy!” called Son 1. “Son 2’s drawing on your chair.” I sprang up the stairs. “What with?” “Pen.” Does anyone know how to get biro out of leather?   They came down for tea.  I’d cleaned the kitchen floor in the morning before we left.  Son 2 ate his rice with his fingers. He got one grain in his mouth for every 17 he dropped on the floor.    AFter, they played in the back yard. Son 2 took off the drain covers and dropped balls down the pipe. When they were finally asleep, I went for a hot, humid run.

1.  Good Food

2.  Good News

3.  Good Thing

Lunch With Nanna.  She’d invited us out. Son 1 aged 4y 9m picked Pizza Express. We went along with the idea. Son 1 ate no breakfast or tea on Friday.. and nothing but cake, crisps, chocolate crispies, chews, lollies and biscuits yesterday.  We figured he would probably go for their cheese and tomato pizza and dough balls. Not exactly Annabel Karmel-compliant, but at least a nod to the three major food groups. On the way to The Square we stopped off to get sandals for Son 2 aged 21m.   ”Choos.” He was delighted. He showed them to Nanna as soon as he saw her. Poor Son 1. Clarks could do nothing with his 11E slender feet.   The boys were ok during lunch. Son 1 cleared his plate, but didn’t quite stay sitting at the table, and ate quite a bit of his garlic butter with his fingers. Son 2 climbed out of his highchair (broken strap) three-quarters of the way through.  But considering what they’re capable of, a success. On the way back we saw Glamorous 22 year old Graduate. “Choos,” said Son 2.

And then at 1545 I wheeled them out again to go the Family Service at The Church. Son 1, who likes the crafts,  had decided he wanted to go.   Today we made  bricks and building and drawing houses.  A few more people there than previously.  Son 2 made a brick and a house. Son 1 coloured an orange house with a pink roof.  He then refused to go to the front of the church for the service because he wanted to make a house too. So Son 2 and I did The Wise Man Built His House Upon The Rock. And then into the Church Hall for tea.  “I made vegetarian cottage pie last time and you didn’t come,” said the chef, doling out sausage and mash and beans for the boys. Sorry, I said.  Son 1, after his lunchtime triumph, ate mash and had seconds of beans. I don’t think the sausages met his standards.    Another mother there had worked with The Man 15 years ago. 15 years ago The Man used his pet name for me in all his conversations.  She still thinks that’s my name, and that’s what she calls me. I wonder when he stopped using it. 

When the boys were in bed I went for a run.  8pm and a warm, close evening with great light.  I’ve never noticed the amount of roses in front gardens along The Terrace before. I’m still running-and-walking while I get back into it, but as usual, I’m very glad I went.  There and back I was dive-bombed by a seagull, clearly protecting a nest or fledgings. And on the final straight, the seagulls were clacking at top volume near The Hotel With The River View.  A small grey chick was perched unsteadily on the sloping slate roof.  I ran on.  A cat sat outside a house on The Terrace, staring at the gulls.  Today’s positive lesson? At least when I make a mistake parenting, no-one tries to eat the children.

1.  Fast Forward

2.  Scene Selection

3.   Pause

The Man is back, The Plumber has been, the hot water is back on, and I have had a shower.   Son 1 aged 4y 8m slept in, Son 2 aged 21m woke up and came down into the kitchen with The Man and me.  He ate blueberries and banana.  He sat at the little ELC plastic table colouring one of Son 1’s drawings.  He’s left-handed two out of three times.  The Man is left-handed, so is Granny and the Elegant Aunt.  I wonder when it settles.  Son 2 has learnt to run. The child who never stays on the floor if he can climb, cannot pass an open door without darting through it and can tank off for hundreds of yards without a backward glance can now do it all a lot faster.  Hooray.  “Daddy, you should see Son 2 run,” I said. “He’s very good at it.” Son 2 stood, a big smile on his face, and ran up and down the kitchen, overjoyed.  And then started doing little jumping attempts - stopping, swinging his arms up, springing - without yet leaving the ground. It wouldn’t surprise me if he is trying to take off. 

I took Son 1 to Nursery. Sports Day, postponed from last week in the rain. Last week I could have managed, this week I had to drive over to The City.  Son 1 fell over badly yesterday. He was given a jelly teddy sweet and came home with black and red knees.  Son 1 has a weirdie hip thing which means he can’t run fast because his legs flay out sideways.   fr http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/01/faster-legs/  His Wednesday Friends are always tearing off without him.  “I am going to run very fast,” he proclaimed as we got out of the car. “Well if you don’t run fast today, don’t forget that you fell over so you have sore knees,” I said, over-protective Mother trying to shield her child from the harsh truth of losing. In he went, off I drove.

When I got back they were watching their new Wiggles DVD (we are going to see them tomorrow.) Son 1 had run in three races. The potato race - pick a potato in your bucket, take it back, run up for the next one… the egg and spoon one “I think someone put oil on my egg because it wouldn’t stay on the spoon.” And a straight running race. Which he won. “X was winning but I runned past him.” Ah. OK. I will be less fast. To write him off.  On the camera were some pictures of Son 2 in the under-threes race. Smiling. Sun-hatted.  Clearly loving it.  With Wonder Nanny.  Pang.  Maybe, just maybe, not every other woman helping a small child in that race was the mother…

1.   An Early Run 

2.   Eyebrows

3.   Banana Cake

4.   Yes

By the time I got up to bed last night, Son 1 aged 4y 8m was in the Big Bed with The Man.  The Man trooped downstairs to Son 1’s bed, and I spent the night with a little octopus clinging and stroking my eyebrow. I woke at 0530. A bright, dry morning, perfect for someone who needs to get going on running again. I was a bit depressed reading last year’s blog entry when I was out running more often.  Can’t remember when I last went out. Whenever it was, I left my kit slung over a radiator, so I tiptoed over, grabbed it, grabbed my contact lenses, and fairy-trod downstairs.  I went out of the house as fast as I could. I did five sets of three-minutes running and three-minutes walking - it’s been so long I don’t want to get injured - and felt hugely better for it.  I really can’t be disciplined about my eating, I love food too much. But I do think I can possibly manage to exercise.

We went to the Rockpool beach with the Wednesday Friends. The weather was great - a real bonus as the forecast was grim.  Son 1 played with his friends, rock-climbing and pirates. Son 2 aged 20m was hard work - tired and clingy. Back just after lunch, and I tried unsuccessfully to get Son 2 to go to sleep.  “Do you want a snooze, or do you want to get up?” I asked him, in the darkened bedroom.  “Up,” he said.  So downstairs and I put CBeebies on. Son 1 sat on my lap - I couldn’t get Son 2 to join us.  Son 1 reached back and stroked my eyebrow.  This, as I’ve mentioned before, is a legacy from his breast-feeding days, when he used to play with my eyelashes and eyebrow during feeding.  It’s still his comfort thing, and it’s always when he’s tired.  He Eyebrows me, mainly, and sometimes The Man and Wonder Nanny.  I’ve also see him try Son 2’s, and have now seen him sitting with his fingers on his own eyebrow.  Not that keen on that one.  Don’t want him ending up rubbing them off.   Anyway. “Are you tired?” I asked him as we sat in my chair watching telly and my eyebrow came under attack.  “No.” “Then why are you Eyebrowing?”  “I just want a quiet time with my eyebrow.”   

Son 1 then decided he wanted to make a cake. I don’t really do cakes.  Mix butter, sugar and flour together and then cook them. In special tins. Add food colouring.  Seems odd.  However.  We have a banana glut (Wonder Nanny and I both bought some on the same day, then the Organic Veg Man brought some) and a Banana Cake recipe from Wonder Nanny. So that is what we made. I got the baking box out. The boys found an opened packet of choc chips and stuffed their faces with them.  Then they tried starting on the Tesco Value cooking chocolate.  I snatched it from Son 2 just as he’d torn his way inside.  We had piled ingredients in the food processor when I realised that every drop of bicarbonated soda had gone into baths for Son 2 during his chickenpox.  We did however have cream of Tartar, and the tub said it was a raising agent, so we chucked that in instead.  The boys took the food processor bowl and spoons and licked it out. Until Son 2 put the coins from his moneybox in the mix, so I confiscated it.  And we were very pleased with the cake. 

Son 2 can say “yes.” He wanted to talk on the phone, so I rang Nanna.  He tried nodding at something she said, and I told him she couldn’t see him and he’d have to say “yes.” So he did.  Perfectly. He has also just started saying something like “fish” instead of his ages-old preference of opening and closing his mouth. In the bathroom tonight “towel.”  And, accompanied by the action of pulling them all out of the box “tissue.”  This is of course a scientific study of language acquisition, and not a bragging mother.

1.  A Nice Rest

2.  Back To Work

3.  On The Road Again

The Man and I were up before Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 aged 18m.  6am.  He was on his computer.  I was reading Sunday paper magazines.  Son 1 arrived with a “Ta Da!” entrance.  He sat playing with his toy karaoke machine, singing away to the alphabet, counting songs and dances.  After the alphabet he snuck a quick over at me to make sure I was watching.  I had of course made sure that I was.  At 7am we started wondering whether Son 2 was still breathing, so Son 1 helpfully said he’d go upstairs to check.  In we went.  A little form, lying, still, on his tummy, his sleeping bag corkscrewed around him, his breathing deep and quiet. Son 1 and I buried ourselves in the double bed.  He eyebrowed.  “Don’t go to sleep Mummy,” he said, noticing me taking a sneaky opportunity for a Nice Rest and peeling my eyelid up.  In the end Son 2 stirred.  Bleary-eyed. red-faced, round-cheeked, and adorable.

I haven’t been into The Office for eight days, and everything was ok.  A Good Thing. The woman on the Lancome counter at Boots swapped the foundation I’d bought myself for Mother’s Day.  No receipt. But she changed it for one I like better.  Another Good Thing.  I’ve been credit-crunching with some Tesco foundation, and it’s made me look old and exhausted.  At least that’s what I think it is.

Quite late back so didn’t see much of the boys.  They were both in the bath, gorgeous.  Son 2 was militant as soon as he saw me, standing up and trying to get out.   Then he slipped and nearly zoomed under water, panic in his eyes, little hiccup-ing cries.  I scooped him out, wrapped him up in a towel and there-there-d him.   Son 1 instantly dived like a striker in the penalty box.  Again and again.  When they were in bed I went out for a run for the first time for ages.  I didn’t get to three miles because of a hip flexor twinge… but I certainly did a good two.  I got rained on, but it was light, so who cares.

1.  Climbing

2.  Pining

3.  Shining

Better.  Both Son 1 aged 4y 5m and Son 2 aged 18m slept through, apart from one screaming session from Son 1.  The Man went down, but that was a genuine sitting-bolt-upright-in-bed-still-asleep night terror, as opposed to imperious yelling for Mummy because you’ve been banned from going upstairs into her bed.  The Man left early on a Business Trip.  Son 1 wailed.   I washed up some breakfast things and turned round to see Son 2 climbing up on to the kitchen table from a dining chair.  He stood up, smiled, and reached for the light.

There were some Office things I needed to do at home today. I’d planned it carefully, picking the day that was reasonably clear and picking Tuesday, because Son 1doesn’t go to Nursery so I had no need to drive.  Only the boys didn’t quite see it like that.  Son 2 clung.  Son 1 was deliquent.  At the point where he gripped Son 2’s shoulders from behind and shook him,  I sent him to bed.  Wonder Nanny removed them for the day to a Garden with a playground.  I cannot remember the last time I was in the house on my own. 

At lunchtime I went for a run.  For only the second time in about a month.  Blue, clear skies, bright sunshine, a chilly breeze.  Down to the Bridge Over The River and back.  I was in shorts, and it was lovely being out in great weather in daylight.  I ran the full three miles, and I haven’t seized up, and I don’t think I’ve pulled anything.  The nervous systems check of someone who’s been injured running in the past.   I found one prob…my dodgy arthritic ankle is very puffed up.  I will go back on the Glucosamine so I feel like I’m a proper runner again.

1.  And The Little One Said…

2.  Bags Of Books

3.  Moondance

Son 1 aged 4y 5m and Son 2 aged 17m slept through, and I had another Reasonable Night’s sleep.  I am Glad About This Good Thing but am being careful about getting excited.  Son 2 woke just before six and The Man went down.  He can get Son 2 back to sleep by putting him in the double bed with him.  It all went quiet.  Then Son 2 started to cry.  And then it got unambiguous.  “Ma Ma!  Ma Ma! Ma Ma!”  I got up.   

I took their books into the library in the Big Town at lunchtime.  Two carrier bags full of books, lugging them from the car park all the way through town.  We usually get them from The Town and put the books under the Big Pram, so weight’s never an issue.  It was today.   I put 15 books back in the machine.  And I have still left one at home.  I picked a couple of books for Son 2 and a great pile for Son 1.  When Son 1 was very small I used to choose him books from The Big Town’s library, but must be nearly 3 years since I’ve been.  It felt strange.  Usually I pick educationally, multicultural, boundary-broadening books while Son 1 pulls out about 20, all of which he has to have, and in the end we put my choices back.  Today there was no-one buzzing round ”Can I have this one?” “I want this one”  Just me, in my big coat and high heels and M  and S Bags For Life.

They both loved their choices.  Son 2 had the book with hardly any words and lots of vehicles twice… Son 1 had 5 out of 6 Winnie The Witch stories.  I held off on the lavender oil to give them a rest form it.  I went out for a run.  It’s been weeks.  I ran down to the Bridge Over The River again,  walked for a bit at the two-mile mark because of a hip flexor twinge, but ran home after a bit of a rest.  A clear, cold, moonlit night.  Very nice to be out.  On the way back the surface of the river was shining silver in the full moonlight,  slightly rippled by a breeze.  Reflected orange, red, blue and white lights wobbled in the water in the distance by The Pier.  There are a few more boats on moorings now… another sure sign of approaching Spring.

1.  Four Good Things Before Breakfast

2.  V For Vaseline

3.  CuddleBlast

The Man and I both went to sleep on our own in the Big Bed last night.  This is a Good Thing.  For a while it’s seemed like one or other of us is in with a child from the off.  Son 2 aged 17m stayed in his own bed till 3am.  That’s a lot better than last night.  Tick. Another Good Thing.   I woke up in daylight, got up and he slept on,  so that’s actually only four hours in with a parent.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m stayed in his own bed all night. Four Good Things already and it was only 7am.  The Man and Son 1 were downstairs and pottering, Son 1 itching to decorate a biscuit.  I said he could do one for breakfast if he ate all his fruit tub first. 

Son 1 span out his tub for a good hour and a half, watching telly in the lounge. Son 2 and I read, had our shower and went downstairs for breakfast.  Son 2’s lip is still horrible, but now the swelling’s gone down it isn’t gaping as much as yesterday.  He’s still got his cold though, and wiping his nose - which was always a bit of a trauma - just made him weep.  So I spent today cleaning up snot, drying the wound and slathering vaseline on it.  Most mornings we have Tonic, Treat and Teeth.  Omega 3 vitamin medicine, a biscuit and then teeth cleaning.  They had their Tonic and were allowed to decorate their biscuits as their Treat.  They both stuffed their faces with the sprinkles and sugar balls, Son 2’s sticking to his vaseline.  Son 1 started squeezing the icing straight from the pen into his mouth.    His sprinkles stuck to the icing round his mouth.  Son 1 ate some of his biscuit.  Son 2 just licked the icing and sprinkles off.

We went for lunch with Son 2’s Godmother and Godsister, who had vouchers for Pizza Express.   Son 1 had a serious shyness episode.  Godsister had changed.  She wasn’t like she was before.  Godsister is a beautiful, willowy, 14.  Son 1 last saw her about 6m ago.  She’d got Very Big.  The boys did well at lunch - Son 2 was on great form.  Godmother and Godsister swore by Bio Oil for Son 2’s lip.  We shopped on the way home.  Nappies, Bio Oil and Ibuprofen sachets.  And Son 2’s first pair of shoes.  He loved them.  Stomped around the shop in them squealing and squawking,  Godmother and Godsister had to come round to see Son 1’s Omnitrix.  They were introduced to Heatblast, Wildmutt and Co.  Son 1 helped me cook the Sea Bass for tea.  Son 2 wolfed it. Son 1 finally ate a reasonable amount after exhausting cajoling.  We invented CuddleBlast, a superhero who cuddles the baddies every time she catches them.  Peels of laughter from Son 1.  At bathtime, Son 2 was very chilled when the Bio Oil went on his lip.  They went to bed. I went for a run.  A lot of Good Things.