1.  What Do You See, You People Gazing At Me?

2.  Scrumptious As The Breeze Across The Bay

3.  Marshmallow Mouthfuls

Son 1 aged 5 and I got to School on time, after another disturbed night and, subsequently, a bit of a sleep in.  Back home, Son 2 watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. It is slowly dawning on me that he thinks I’m in it.  He has, throughout his obsession, sat watching it, saying: “Mummy,” and putting his face against the screen.  Now.  If I were a lot thinner, if my hair were longer and natural instead of short bottle blonde, if I wore hats and sashes… there is a certain pointyness to my nose, the way I know all the songs, and the lashings and lashings of mascara…. I am Truly Scrumptious.   

A text from a Wednesday Mum. The Beach By The Garden. 10am. Son 2 aged 2y 1m and I can’t get anywhere by 10am on a Wednesday morning.  Son 1 aged 2y 1m had a 0930 swimming class at the Town Pool, and I was out striding the mile and a half over there at 0845 every week.  Just can’t do it any more. Son 2 and I got there at 1045.  Two Wednesday Mums, two three year olds, and our old friend from Breastfeeding Group and her second, now a year old.    One Wednesday Mum has just run a half marathon. Pang.  I dug a sandcastle, I went down to the water to bring back bucket after bucket of water.  Son 2 made himself a little bed out of his towel, my towel and a pram blanket.  I read a comic to a three-year-old. Son 2 got up to listen.  One Wednesday Mum left. ”I wan’ a wee wee,” said Son 2. “Do it in your nappy, darling,” said She Who Doesn’t Want To Toilet Train Till We’re Back From Holiday. ”No. I wan’ go on toy toy.” “Come on then.” Off we went to the loo. I changed into my swimsuit while I was there. Son 2 played, and I went for a swim in the sea.  In October. Hooray. I thought the water was flat until two successive waves smacked me in the face, filling my mouth with saltwater. It was cold, but it was great.  I came out. ”I can’t go in,” said the running Wednesday Mum. “I just can’t do cold.”  I wasn’t that cold. This is the difference between someone with no spare flesh, and someone who has built-in layers of goose fat to keep her warm.

Son 2 fell asleep in the Big Pram, so The Man and a work colleague came out for lunchtime burgers.  Son 2 of course woke up, furious.  He was tired and hungry and loud. No. No. No. No. No. No. He wouldn’t let me take him out of the Pram, he wouldn’t be cuddled, he wouldn’t eat…it took about 15 minutes to get him back to us. Then he sat demurely eating his chips.  When we had coffee, he wanted hot chocolate. I took him to the counter. “Tell the lady what you want.” “Hot Choc Choc. Peez.” He has ordered his first drink.

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…

1.  Crocs

2.  Rocks

3.  Tuck

Son 2 aged 18m woke at 0630, Son 1 aged 4y 5m wasn’t far behind.  I went through my “Is Son 2 at the window, is he on the bed, is he on the chair, no! he’s in the cot” routine.  Son 2, crouching blearily, ran his hands over the rail - correcting me.  I usually run my hands up and down first looking for his little gripping fingers.  Son 1 cuddled him on the double bed.  Son 2 cuddled him back.  Mush.  We did “What’s That Noise, Mr Croc?” as one of our books.  Son 1 came in wearing the crocodile mask from the dressing up box.  Son 2 slid off the bed, clearly with an idea.  Downstairs. Into the lounge.  Jigging about, clutching  a train.  “Do you want to watch The Wiggles?” Mad nodding.  The Wiggles were doing the crocodile song when we stopped watching them yesterday.  We danced.  Son 2 is in love.  We have the Wiggles on Safari. “Crocodile Hunter - Big Steve Irwin.”   Son 1 wants to go to the Australia Zoo.  I wonder when I should tell them what happened to the Khaki Wiggle.

We drove down to the fantastic playground near the fantastic beach.  Two friends and their Three Year Old joined us.  Son 1 and Three Year Old ran onto big rocks.  Son 2 played in the rock pools.  I put him in a swimming costume wetsuit and his age 9m to 12m sunsuit top from last summer.   And Factor 50.  He picked up handfuls of mud and threw them into the pools.  Out of our sight, Son 1, who was wearing his school shoes,  stepped into a rock pool.  I put him in his sun suit, and found sun suit trousers for Three Year Old too. We built a huge sandcastle.  The Man and Three Year Old’s Dad flew kites.  Not enough wind.  (I have been with The Man for 22 years, and there is Never Enough Wind.) There were other kites on the beach, and dogs, and tractors, and horses.  It was a glorious day.  Bright sunshine and shimmering water.  There’s a tidal causeway and we crossed it to the Island. 

By the time we’d got back it was 2pm. Son 2 was yelling for his lunch in the pram, Son 1 needed carrying. Lunch was sausage baps from a kiosk, and assorted picnic stuff for Son 2 and me. Son 1 ate a bit but then pestered and whined for the playground.  We took them in.  Son 2 crawled up to slide down, crawled through tunnels, played with sand, climbed around a train and went on the swings.  Son 1 went on the aged 6 to 12 section, very pleased with himself.  An amazing afternoon.  We bribed them out with ice creams.  Back here at 5pm.  Son 1 has caught the sun on his face.  We were expecting them to sleep well, but Son 1 has already been up…

1.   Shorter Nights

2.   Lovely Morning

3.   Precious Days

Son 2 aged 17m woke at 1130 last night, just after I’d gone to bed.  He screamed and I let him.  I hated it. It went on forever.  But I’ve been so tired, and I couldn’t help thinking that he had gone to sleep without a whimper for Wonder Nanny.    It was all for my benefit.  He roared.  He hollered himself hoarse.  He sobbed.  He shouted.  He woke Son 1 aged 4y 4m in the next room, who cried a bit for “Mummy” and then went back to sleep.  And then, finally, he stopped, and slept till morning.  So it was a Good Thing, especially in view of the amount of times recently either of us has slept with him.  But when I finally get some rest, I still may crack again.  Because I know he won’t Want His Mummy forever.

Blue skies, crisp winter sunshine, little or no wind. We went to a new beach.  The Town’s are sandy shingle/stoney sand.  We wanted wide expanses of golden sand.  We took: the beach bag (beach toys, sun suits, beach shoes, beach mat,) the beach tent, Son 1’s inflatable surf board, two changes of clothing, two towels, two pairs of wellies, jumpers, a massive packed lunch and the Big Pram.   Son 1 checked my packing.  Son 2 fell over and split his lip open again, for the third time. (Minor Injuries again.  They said they can’t do anything now; put Vaseline on it.)  We drove for 25 miles and the boys slept.   On arrival the car park was empty.  We loaded up the Big Pram like a sherpa’s mule and trundled over a bridge across a rushing stream.  Pooh Sticks.  We all got our sticks, we got ready for “Ready Steady Go” and Son 2 chucked his stick in.  Every time.  Basic Human Instinct.  Lean over fence, look down, get given a stick, throw it in the water.   Laugh.  

Son 2 had his lunch with Wonder Nanny, Son 1 and I climbed rocks.  He pushed my hand away, he said: “I can do it!” as I reached for him.  He slipped and said “Don’t worry Mummy” before I could hoik him up again.  He wanted to walk all round the edge of a tidal pool as the tide came in.  Next time, I said.  I wanted to help him down; he jumped without me.  Pang. Slipping Through My Fingers.   We put the Beach Tent up and had our lunch.  Son 1 decided he wanted his sun suit on so he could play in the sea.  I blew up his surf board and rolled up my trousers.  In he went.  Splashing, wading, kicking, lying down, falling off, getting soaked from chin to toe in water which was so cold it hurt my feet.   Son 2, also in his sun suit,  came for a splash with Wonder Nanny.  The boys played and played.  Son 2 started crying with cold, so back in the tent I dressed him.  Son 1 came out, also crying, also blue with teeth chattering.   We made a massive sandcastle.  Son 2 kept sitting in the moat, Son 1 did all the work patting the sides down.  We took pictures.  Son 1 kicked it flat.  17 days ago he was making snowmen.   We used everything we took, which is an extra bonus point for me.