1.  Getting Up

2.  Stepping Out

3.  Lying Down

As always, on a Monday morning, The Man and I were clattering around downstairs while the Son 1 aged 5y 1m and Son 2 aged 2y 1m softly snored in their bedroom.   I drank coffee, and gazed blearily at the clocks.  Every clock in the house has to be fast, or I am Late For Everything.  And only a few have been put back.  So in the lounge it was 0730. In the kitchen it was 0630.  Everywhere else,  it could have been anything from 0615 to 0620.   Wonder Nanny, months ago, told me she never looks at any of our clocks and relies on her mobile phone for the time.  The boys came down.  Son 1 now turns his nose up at Coco Pops, so we’ve gone back to pancakes.  Son 2 stuffed his face. Son 1 nibbled the edge of a tiny piece like a teenaged girl in ballet school.  I nagged and nagged.   As always, on a Monday morning, I was Gloriously Grateful that Son 1 got to School on time.

At lunchtime, a colleague and I went out for a Run.  I haven’t been out since A Pan Fan.  ( Another Good Thing. I have worked out how to edit the hyperlinks…)   We were therefore both Beginners, and did 3min walking and 3 min running x 5, in bright, crisp autumn sunshine.  We went down by The River, past the Garden and the Playground and along to the Sports Field.  My colleague wanted to run on the grass to save our joints. I didn’t want to mess up my nearly new shoes.  And yet inside I still think I’m a runner…  

I collected Son 1 from After School club.  He burrowed his face into my shoulder.  “Are you tired, Son 1?” I asked. “They’re all a bit tired, today,” said the Helper. Son 1 wanted a carry.  I hitched him up, and he slumped against me. “You’re not very well, are you?”  “My throat’s sore. It hurts when I yawn. Tell Daddy I don’t think I’ll have any tea. ”   I carried him across the playground. “I’m parked right up the Muddy Path. Do you want me to leave you on the bench while I go and get the car?”  “Yes please.”  Reader, I couldn’t.  I carried the poor floppy lump quarter of a mile, in my trouser suit and three inch heels.  He only ate a Frube from his tuck box, and was asleep by the time we got home.  I took his temperature. 37.9.  Son 2, chuckling with joy at first sight of us, went nuts at the amount of attention Son 1 was getting. They were both in bed and asleep at 7pm.  Or 8pm, if you were in the lounge.

1.  Good Behaviour

2.  Best Behaviour

3.  Bad Behaviour

The Man got back yesterday, so this morning was easier.  We were at School on time, and I had, for the first time this week, got the right combination of books in Son 1 aged 5’s bag. The Jolly Phonics book; we are currently doing e-e-e-e-e-e, the Reading Book; in which Biff, Chip and Kipper’s no-need-to-work parents take them places, have fun and cook Proper Food, and the Homework Book with Things To Draw and Letters To Write.  I got a smiley sticker from Son 1’s Teaching Assistant as a reward, and I wore it with pride.

Driving, I stopped to take a phone call, and pulled over on a yellow line - no parking from 1 May till 30 September.  There was one other car on it.  I reversed back towards it. Crunch.  Oh hell.  It was a proper crunch, not just a bump, to be waved off with my dear old Dad’s “Bumpers Is For Bumping” motoring motto.  Opposite me, a coach driver, sat outside a hotel, watching. I took a long time on my phone call. And I thought about the Good Samaritan who put my Nappy Bag, containing cards, purse and phone, on my doorstep after I’d left it in the road. I wrote my note. “Sorry, I’ve reversed into your car. If there’s any damage call Serenedays on XXXXXXXXXX.”  I got out to look at the other car.  I’m not very good at cars. I have to read the make and model from the back. This one was a 4.2 litre Jaguar with a personalised number plate.  Ah. And I thought there was a scuff on the number plate, and a possible scuff on the gleaming paintwork. But I didn’t dare touch them to see if they’d come off. Not a mark on mine. I left my note on the windscreen, and off I went.

I looked in the homework book after I’d picked up Son 1 from school.  He only got 2/10, which I thought was a bit harsh.  Until I realised it was the date. He and Son 2 aged 2 wolfed vegetable soup and pasta for tea, and then he wanted to go to the Yacht Club.  We went down, but it was closed. ”Oh come on, will someone open the bar,” said Son 1. What kind of parents have their five-year-old queueing outside pubs?  We trailed away, and then met one of the bar staff arriving to open up. “It’s October,” she said. ”Winter opening times.” The boys played on the grass with some other children. The tide was high and the river was still. We sat and watched the boats on the moorings and the reflected lights from the docks.   The Jaguar owner didn’t ring. And now I am a bit worried he (why do I know it’s a ‘he’?) just thought it was an excuse to leave my name and number on a nice car…

1.  Lost

2.  Left

3.  Legerdemain

I can do this, I thought, swigging coffee at 6am as I emptied the dishwasher and put washing away. Son 1 aged 5 woke up at about 0630. I put him in front of CBeebies while I had a shower. Son 2 aged 2 cried. I did his nappy, dressed him, dressed Son 1, did my hair and make up and got them down for breakfast. Eaten. No spills. Tonicked.  Hair and teeth brushed.   Out of the house on time, a Good Morning to the Man from the Paper Shop with his fluorescent satchel, and a wave to the recycling men as we passed them at the bottom of The Terrace.  We drove to School singing Doll On A Music Box from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Son 2’s current favourite. We had enough time to park up the Muddy Path. We got out of the car. “Son 1, where’s your school bag?” I checked the seats, the footwells and the boot.  With a slowly dawning dread, I realised I’d put the school bag on the road behind the car while I seatbelted the children in.  Not the end of the world, but next to it was the Nappy Bag. In the Nappy Bag was my card wallet - bank cards, credit cards, loyalty cards, library cards - phone and purse.  And not even on the pavement… on the road. Six or seven cars down from The House. With the recycling men heading on up towards them only minutes away.

The School let me use their phone. The only number I knew was The Man’s. “What do you expect me to do… I’m in France!” Ring the neighbours, I suggested. He has a new phone and his Simcard isn’t working yet.  I drove back. What’s the worst that can happen, I thought.  I will have to cancel a few credit cards and borrow money from Nanna till new ones arrive.   I can get a new phone. It’s Not The End Of The World.  Son 2 fell asleep on the trip back. I double-parked outside The House and sprang from the car. On the doorstep was the organic veg box. With the school bag and nappy bag, contents intact, on top. 

Son 2 and I had a low-key day. We visited one Wednesday Mum at home, and then went round the other’s for lunch.  Afterwards, I drove into The Town, went to the Joke Shop and bought Son 1 a 5+ magic kit and a 99p magic wand.  I put it in his schoolbag and gave it to him when we picked him up. “Where’s my magic wand?” In the car, I said. “Does it have powers?” he asked on the way back. “It’s a toy wand,” I said. “See how you get on with it.”  Back home, we found the magic wand makes bits of magic tricks disappear. “Don’t open the bag with the tricks in until I’ve got Son 2 to bed. You’ll lose the pieces.” Well by the time I’d left Son 2 we were down a rubber pencil and two of our Find-The-Lady white balls.  The balls re-appeared. Son 1 can just about do a swords-through-the-coin trick, and he LOVES the magic paddle.   “Who was the super-good person who helped us with the bags, Mummy?” he asked.   I have considered the suspects.  The neighbours knew nothing. The recycling men - wouldn’t have stopped to look at the bags.  The organic veg man - I didn’t see his van. Step forward…  someone who often sees us leaving for School, who saw us pull away, and who Knows Where We Live.  I think our Secret Hero is the Paper Shop Man.

1.  Sleeping

2.  Smiling

3.  Sluicing

And of course I couldn’t get either of them up this morning. The Man left at 0530 on a Business Trip. I got up, had coffee, had breakfast, emptied dishwasher, hung washing out, put washing on, put boys’ breakfast out, showered, did hair and make up and STILL they weren’t bothering.  Why.  Why at the weekend, when I am gripping my bed like I’m on a 20th-floor ledge, do they make me get up? And then why do they not even hear me in the week? Even Son 2 aged 2, the original I WILL WALK 500 MILES AND I WILL WALK 500 MORE hypercharged baby was comatose.   I got them up, and I got us out.

When I picked Son 1 aged 5 up from school, he burrowed in his bag and produced several proof sheets from the school photos taken last week. Wonder Nanny had taken Son 2 along as well, so there were five of the two of them together.  i have long told Son 1 that if he smiles nicely in official photos, Mummy will buy him a present. The pictures are truly fantastic, and Son 1 knew it.  Crumple of small boy when he realised I didn’t have a present with me.  In my defence, I had said I needed to see the smiles first. We have agreed we will try and get to a joke shop tomorrow to see if they have a magic wand. 

I did them corn on the cob for tea. Served with little sharp skewery things in each end.  Kitchen gadgets I bought in the days when I though we weren’t having children.  Son 2 pulled his out and started shoving one through his teeth. Son 1 played pirates with his. The corn was too hot to eat, so I sliced it off onto their plates. Son 1 stared at the pile in disbelief. “I want it back on,” he wailed.  Upstairs Son 2 was in the bath while I sorted washing and Son 1 spoke to Birthday Boy Godbrother on the phone. “Big Poo!” came the battle cry. We went in. There was a toy turtle floating in the bubbles on the top. But nothing sinister. I put my hand in for the turtle. It wasn’t a turtle.  And my hand went straight through it, a five-fingered macerator which scattered the soft turd down, along and up the sides of the bath.    Son 2 couldn’t have had more toys in the bath if he’d piled up every one he owns in there.  Today’s Top Tip.  In net laundry bags (Lakeland and kitchen shops,) in the washing machine, Quick Wash. ”Big Poo,” said Son 2 again. We put him on the booster loo seat. He performed. Four chocolate buttons each for a poo in the loo.  Keeps the children still and quiet for just long enough to spray and wash the bath out.

1.  Nothing But Blue Skies

2.  Obstacles

3.  Here Is The Rainbow

We are improving.  We can get out of the house a bit earlier, and in to School a bit earlier.  A bright, fresh morning with a blue sky. Son 1 aged 4y 11m is still in shorts; I was in a silk print frock. I have no idea what Son 2 aged 2 wore. He was in his pyjamas when we left, and in his (different) pyjamas when we got back. A completely different set of parents dropping off when we are On Time, as opposed to There By The Skin Of Our Teeth. I’ve never seen any of them before.  Although I do think it’s quite funny that it is, indeed, Always The Same Ones who are late when we are.

At lunchtime I went out to shop for party food.  M and S. No I didn’t remember the bloody vouchers. Or the bloody carrier bags.  I gained three more party guests on the way.  One is a little vegetarian boy who usually comes with his vegetarian parents.   I’ve been vegetarian for 26 years and even I don’t really know what we eat. I bought quiche and  Cheese and onion savoury rolls.  I don’t want little 5 year old X to sit and stare at the table and not have a choice.  “I can’t decide if Son 1 aged 4m is going to be a vegetarian or not,” I said to the Breastfeeding Counsellor, way back in Jan 2005. “Well you don’t need to decide yet do you?  He’s 17 weeks old.”  “Oh it’s not for now, I’m making baby food for the freezer for when i go back to work and I’m just starting 9m in the Annabel Karmel book.”  I was a bit more in control in Those Days.  I went for meat.   I didn’t want him to be the odd one out at parties.

When I picked him up he had made me a bar of soap, and completed his sticker chart for a Certificate Of Achievement. “I’m the first to get it in my class,” he said.  For two weeks he has talked of nothing else. “I am going to smile so I can get a sticker.” “I am going to help so I can get a sticker.” He seems two years older than he was two weeks ago.  I let him talk me into a trip to Tesco, because I needed serving plates for tomorrow. He behaved impeccably.  Threw a few Smoothies squashies and cheese stringie things into the trolley, but I kind of regard those as collateral damage if I’m barmy enough to take him shopping. Back home, The Man had remembered to buy serving plates too. The phone kept ringing, Another three party guests.  We are now up to… er… 25.  I can do 24 Scooby Party bags. 24 Scooby plates and 24 Scooby cups. After that it’s Tesco Value. They won’t all come. Sweepstake anyone?  I think 7 no-shows on the day. Maybe two we’re not expecting to turn up. I am The Woman Who Cooked Her Baby Food Four Months In Advance.  I will take a carrier bag of Spares.

1.  The school run

2.  The school lunch

3. The milk bottle

Marathon session today.  Me and two boys to get up and out of the house early enough to get to the New Nursery, drop off Son 1 aged 3y 11m, get back to the  Old Nursery, drop off Son 2 aged 1, and then get back to The Office.  Then I needed to collect Son 1, collect Son 2, get them home, wait for Wonder Nanny to arrive and get back to the New Nursery for parents’ evening.  I did it, but I was up at 0530, didn’t get lunch, and could only grab some breadsticks and houmous with the boys before I had to pile out again.

Son 2 had his first Big Boy Food at nursery.  I’ve made him lunch for his first six months there; now he is 1, I am moving him on to their food.  He usually has carefully and lovingly made organic baby mush from one of my many Annabel Karmel cookbooks . (”Sweet potato and lentil is his favourite/he needs iron he’d better have spaghetti bolognese/salmon and tomato sauce, I think, to give him some Omega 3.”)  He had sausages and spaghetti hoops and ate it all.  

Wonder Nanny put the boys to bed.  Did their bath, gave Son 2 a bottle and then read to Son 2 till he fell asleep.  Here I sit, having not breastfed my baby at night for the first time in his life.  And having not been involved in his bedtime…  He’s 1 now, I’ve done really well with him and now I can try all this stuff.  I’ve been trying to cut the quantity of milk I give him in the morning, ready to cut that feed first when The Man gets back.  But I think I’ll see how I get on.