1.  Coffee

2.  Church

3.  Presents

Son 1 aged 4y 3m longs for Christmas.  His tummy hurts.  He is excited.  Santa is coming tonight.  We have a deal that he can open his stocking and the big present under the tree he has his eye on - which he thinks is the Abyss underwater set but isn’t - and then he has to wait till Granny and Granddad get here.  He is also worn out.  Why are my children always so tired?  It can’t be anything to do with their five-hours-sleep-a-night full-time-working Christmas-Eve-but-I’ll-just-bash-a-blog out mother.  The Man went off to Marks for supplies with Son 2 aged 15m at about 9.  I prised Son 1 away from the telly and we met them, and Granny and Granddad for coffee.  Son 1 misbehaved, tired and excited.  Son 2, uncharacteristically, fell asleep in the Big Pram.

I took them to church.  The vicar wrote us a letter for a C of E school saying we attend from time to time, and I don’t want him to go to hell for lying.  We met some Wednesday friends there.  Son 1 and Older Brother tore up and down the aisles, played with the toys at the back and chattered, oblivious to proceedings.  Son 2 picked, uninterested, at the greenery arrangements.  In the middle of the reading Son 1 proclaimed “I need a poo,” and off we set, round pews, through doors, over concrete flooring, through an office, via a robing room (oops, that’s not it then) to the Tiny Loo.  We took Monday’s Birthday Boy with us.   Four of us couldn’t fit in, so we held the door open.  Birthday Boy is known for roaming, and wanted his Mummy.  Son 2 is unstoppable.  Son 1 took forever.  A flight of stairs plunged downwards yards from our nook.  After 10 years the Other Mother arrived, having only just realised I was three-up and out of control.  “This service isn’t very long,” I thought, as we warbled “Away in a Manger” to finish.  Then I realised we’d been waiting for Son 1 for about 20  minutes.

Son 1 put out a mince pie, a sherry and two gold chocolate coins for Santa, and a carrot and milk for the reindeer.  He was allowed to eat a chocolate coin to make sure they were good enough for Santa.  Then he decided to leave only one chocolate coin for Santa, and to put the other one back in his Trick or Treat bucket.  We decided he could leave two small ones out for Santa, but he could eat the big one.   Both boys were asleep at 7pm.  Who’s SuperMummy?  Granny and Granddad babysat, and we went round to our friends’.  We were supposed to be staying for one and then going to the pub, but they had crisps, and champagne, and an open fire, and we were talking and drinking and drinking and talking and then we had to go because G and G don’t really do Late.  Back home I put chocolate decorations on the tree, gold coins in the treasure chest and filled the stockings (not enough stocking fillers, where’s open at midnight on Christmas Eve?) while The Man heaved bags of presents down the stairs and piled them under the tree.  I need to get up at 6am to see to the turkey.  I can’t wait for the morning to come.

1.  Garden Party

2.  Sliding Down

3.  Wrapping Up

A Little Friend is 3 today.  His party was at a Nearby Garden.  I’ll take all the Christmas presents, I thought, taking a pile of five downstairs to wrap.  In front of Son 1 aged 4y 3m, while Son 2 aged 15m was napping.  Son 1 went nuts.  He wanted the little plastic paint-me figures, he couldn’t keep his fingers out of the Meccano boxes, he lifted the flaps in the  books.  Of course I gave up, and we just took Birthday Boy’s.  Son 1 wore his Santa outfit.  We went straight to see Santa in his grotto; 8 little boys aged 4 and under, 1 two-year old girl.  Santa was great, the grotto was great.  Is it me or are they getting better?  Santa asked all the little boys what they wanted for Christmas.  Son 1 couldn’t speak when it was his turn.  “A Knight’s Tower,” I said, “with some Monsters.”  “And what about this little one? ” said Santa.  “An iPod,” I said. “Or a mobile phone.” Santa stared and waited for a sensible answer, while small boys giggled and said “No-o,” Teletubbies fashion.  I made up a Farm and some bath toys.  Outside, Son 2 stared, rapt, at the mighty camera wielded by Birthday Boy’s parents, reaching out his little starfish hands for the buttons.  Sorry  darling, Santa didn’t believe me when I told him what you’d like for Christmas.      

The children had their faces painted.  They were all blue Power Rangers, which made Son 1 a Santa with a blue face. Lunch was served in the playground.  It was a dry, clear day so the children ate chocolate sandwiches and chased and slid and climbed and squabbled.  Son 2 reached for me every time Wonder Nanny picked him up.  That matters more than it should.  She lay him down on his back and dropped him down the slide… I caught him at the bottom.  He laughed and laughed and then started panicking in case we weren’t going to do it again.  Son 1 complained that Older Brother had hit him.  “You don’t need to tell me,” I said.  “Santa is very close and he’ll be watching Older Brother and won’t bring him any presents.”  They made up.  Cake was served.  Two more boys we know, aged 4 and 2 turned up, with their dad.  The children played, the grown ups chatted.

Some went home, we went back towards the grotto so Son 1 could make a Christmas Table decoration.  Red candle, a bit of clay, a base and all the foliage you can get in for a pound.  Son 1 did a very good job.  We put the boys in the car, they were both asleep by the time we got back to The Town, so I did a quick shopping run around Asda.  Trolley logjam.  Granny and Granddad came round to see the boys, who were fizzing with tiredness.  After bedtime, The Man and I wrapped present after present after present.  Son 2 has about 6 things, Son 1 about 15.  Must get something for Granny and Granddad tomorrow.  And for The Man, I suppose.

1.  Be Good For Goodness Sake

2.  A Winter Wonderland

3.  Santa Baby

Had a lie in till 0715.  Heard the boys and The Man downstairs but couldn’t get up and didn’t. Eventually a cup of coffee arrived, and then Son 1 aged 4y 2m.  I tried reading to Son 2 aged 15m, but Son 1 was maddening.  Loud, boisterous, destructive, annoying.   Eventually I said “What is in your head when you behave like this?” He said: “My heart is broken because Son 2 is getting all the Mummy Time.”  Ah.    They  both do this.  They’ll both take turns and be sensible when it’s just me, but as soon as The Man or Nanna is added to the equation - which I think will make things easier - they both squabble and roar and irritate, ready to fight to the death not to be the one who gets the second best.

We went to a Garden to see Santa.  It rained as we drove there, grim charcoal-black clouds getting thicker and lower.   When we arrived the boys were asleep, and the rain driving harder.  And it was ARCTIC.  I bought the tickets and sent everyone else into a barn to keep out of the rain.  “Follow the Christmas Trees to Santa,” said the chap in the booth.  Son 1 wouldn’t pull his hood up because he was wearing his Santa hat, and wanted the Great Man Himself to see it.  And then it started to snow.  Proper, light, swirling, coming-faster-and-faster snow.  It snowed all the way down to Santa.  It snowed while we were waiting and looking at all his small but gorgeous reindeer.   A rainbow arched across the sky… faded and then re-appeared.  “This is how you know it’s really Santa,” I told Son 1.  “He needs the snow for his reindeer, and he’s using magic to make rainbows.”  “With his computer?”

Santa was very well done - he sat in a chair and said nothing, a female helper read “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”  Son 2 was scared, but calmed down for the story.  The eight other children were transfixed.  Son 1 sat straight the whole time, shooting his hand into the air for every question.  At the end they got a toy reindeer and The Man took photos.  When we got outside the snow had stopped, and a man on a tractor was stirring a vast vat of fake foam which was being blasted around Santa’s log cabin as we left.  In the cafe Son 1 took one of the decorations off their enormous Christmas Tree.  “Son 1!” I snapped. “I can’t believe you’ve done that here!  You know Santa is very near - is he sees you do that nothing I can say will get you presents on Christmas Day!”  Total disintegration of small child.  Red face. Distress. Real tears.  The Man had the same effect on Son 2 later on when he gave him a Salt and Vinegar crisp.

1.  Skating

2.  Climbing

3.  Running

We went over to the ice rink for Babies and Toddlers’ Skating.  Brilliant.  £2.50 for Son 1 aged 4y 2m.  There was an inflatable snowman, giant balls, big paddles, a big pile of snow with spades and buckets, pushalong toys, sleds and artificial snow falling every 15 minutes or so.  Son 1 skated, propped by a parent, and eventually got up to shuffling around on his kiddie skates alone.  Son 2 aged 14m was towed around on sleds, and spent a great deal of time pushing a Winnie The Pooh aeroplane from one edge to the other, stopping occasionally to push buttons to make Eeyore or Piglet pop up.  Son 1 was in raptures when the snow fell, dancing, laughing, trying to catch it.  And boy, did he want a snowball fight over at the snow pile.  Too many books.  We will go again.  We had to give up after Soon 1 fell over outside the rink and cracked his face on a metal prop.  He then crawled into the cosi toe on the Big Pram because he was so cold.  And we had to carry Son 2.

We went to a cafe for lunch with some Friends we’d met there.  We gave Son 1a hot chocolate to warm him up.  He ate all the marshmallows off the top and left the drink.  He then did his usual screaming circuits.  We were there with Friends with a nearly-three year old, and Son 1 led him down the rocky road to rack and ruin.    There was also a Garden there, and we took the boys round one part.  Son 2 insisted on finger-walking and climbing up stairs, but could not understand why he wasn’t allowed to root around in the borders, rockeries and flowerbeds.  Tantrums, back-arching.  There was a Christmassy Performance Artist in the garden doing a turn for children, and they all enjoyed it.  Son 1 adopted Nursery pose. Sitting cross-legged at the front, hand shooting into the air to volunteer for everything.  We have a fragment of Santa’s coat from last year, and we wrote labels of Things We Are Going To Do For Other People to hang on a white-sprayed tree.  Son 1 is going to Be Kind To Santa.  Son 2 is going to go Straight To Sleep.

This evening I went running.  It was bitterly, bitterly cold.   In the Good Old Days, I ran occasionally at night, but I never remember being this cold.  I was out of the house and straight into a Northerly and I was freeeeeeeeeeeeeezing.  Better on the way back of course, with the wind behind me.  But still really Not What I Am Used To.