1.  Black Night

2.  Spring Colour

3.  A Rolling Nose

A murderous night.  Son 1 aged 4y 5m again.  Waking screaming for Mummy.  At the fourth time, at 5am, I was not patient, understanding or tolerant.  “Stop making that noise or you will wake Son 2!” I snapped.  Son 2 aged 18m woke, and screamed.  The Man went in with him.  Son 1 went back to sleep.  I went downstairs for coffee and the Sunday papers. 

It was a beautiful day.  Daffodils everywhere I drove.  The Crocuses we planted outside The Office in December are just about over, but still a great splash of colour.   The road near the entrance to Son 1’s nursery is wooded, and there are carpets of yellow primroses, and clumps of daffs.  Bright pink camellias, and fresh green leaves unfurling on a hydrangea.  The birds are singing, the sky was blue.  Son 1 went to Nursery without a coat because we can’t find his blazer.  It was just about warm enough.

After a tortuous weekend of failing to find a Red Nose anywhere, I found a leftover one at The Office.  I picked Son 1 up from Nursery.  There is apparently a school play on Friday afternoon for which he is learning some songs.  And he says I am going to it.  Only I’m supposed to be in The City, 60 miles away on Friday afternoon.    I am still mystified as to where everyone finds out this stuff.  There was a tiny  book of dates-in-the-year given out at the start of term.  This obviously has to be decanted into the calendar when it comes into the house.  I’ll learn. We parked near the house, and  Son 1 clutched his Red Nose as he got out of the car.  He dropped it.  It rolled across the road, and then into the entrance to some sea-level riverside properties opposite.  Son 1 howled.  “My Red Nose!” A passing youth couldn’t help laughing out loud.  The Nose picked up the pace, rolled away down the steep slope to the waterfront and disappeared out of sight.  I put a sobbing Son 1 in the house and went to investigate.  There was a red blob in the road at the bottom of the hill.  There was more comedy potential in it plopping off into the river and drifting out to sea, but I’m glad we saved it.

1.  Christmas Play

2.  Play Date

3.  Cold Play

Our First School Play.  We Are So Proud.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was a robin.  Brown tights, brown long-sleeved tee-shirt, red belly tied round his tummy.  Painted brown nose.  He had to flap a lot with the other robins, and looked very worried throughout.  But all the best robins look worried.  How the other parents must have wished their children weren’t on stage with ours.  Eclipsed, outshone, overshadowed by the best robin ever.  We of course was robbed, and he should have been Joseph.    Only that was Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser’s son.  A non-speaking part.  And he had a tea-towel on his head so no-one could see how well his hair was cut by his Mummy.

We only just made it back home before some of our Wednesday Friends arrived for tea.  They are mid extension-building, and are now down to just a microwave to cook with.  I’d made stew.  Farmshop meat, organic everything, mash, broccoli/cauli and cheese sauce.  The Man, the Mother and I wolfed ours.  The children - Son 1, Son 2 aged 14m, and the guests, boys aged 4 and 2 - ate nothing.  The Man begrudgingly agreed that the leftovers could go home with the Mother to her partner, who was putting an extra coat on the kitchen.  Son 1 and his friends ate iced buns.  The icing off the iced buns that is.

The children went down to sleep relatively easily, but it was very late.  At 10 past 8 I went downstairs.  The lounge looked like a plane wreck.  The dressing up box had been looted and spread out over the carpet.  Various bits of various outfits were hanging up on the stairgate.  The kitchen had dirty pans, plates and plastic pots on every surface.  And The Man had gone to bed.  I went for a run.  And I started thinking positively.  The lounge wouldn’t take long to do.  The kitchen would be easy.  It rained.  This is ok, I thought.  I’m a runner.  I’m getting wet, but I don’t care.  The rain got heavier and heavier.  Being positive, I thought, at least it’s not too cold, and at least it’s not windy.  It pelted down.  So hard that yard-wide puddles appeared before me… so hard my hair was plastered to my head, so hard my feet were squelching in my socks.   Then I reached half way.  When I finally arrived home I was drenched through and freezing. And The Man had tidied the lounge, and was making a start on the kitchen.