1.  Making Bags

2.  Making Sandwiches

3.  Making Merry

27.  The vegetarian boy’s Mother called off, two older boys turned up… no-one dropped out and I have absolutely no idea who The Last One was.  I am Toast.  Charred and chewed.  Ringing head. Rabid sciatica.  Twitching eyelid.  Compulsive hair twiddling.  Hope you’re ok.  So. Up at the crack.  Son 1 aged 4y 11m with one goal. Doing The Party Bags.  I read to Son 2 aged 2, but we finished too soon. The second we got to the kitchen, Son 2 started unpicking the bubble wands Son 1 and The Man had just carefully sellotaped to the Scooby Do bubbles. Son 1 screamed.  The next thing to go in was the sweets. ”Can we eat them?” said Son 1.  ”Yes. If you eat your breakfast you can have them as your treat in Tonic, Treat and Teeth.”  They gorged parma violets and lollies and chews.  Son 2 gobbled boiled sweets. Choked. Spat out.  The advantage of eight months’ reflux hell is the best gag reflex this side of an eating disorder.     Son 2 happily plopped sweets into each party bag. 

The Man was a Marvel.  He started making sandwiches at 0830, went down into Town twice, made all the party food - sandwiches, vegetable fingers, topped strawberries, packed up all the stuff, made two trips to the Church - with Son 1 - and presented it all beautifully. He was singing as he washed up 15 minutes before we had to go. A Magical Moment which is going in The Album.

And The Party.  27 + children, 24 party bags, 30 balloons and a bouncy castle. Acoustic Armageddon.   Son 1and Best Friend were, by several streets, the Worst Behaved Children there.   The Bouncy Castle Man, because I asked him nicely, turned up 45 minutes ahead of start time so Son 1 and a handful of friends could have a Good Old Play before the rest of the guests arrived.   I thought it would calm them down.  Nope.  They were orbiting at sub-atomic speeds, and then the Gentle New Children from Son 1’s reception class arrived with their bewildered parents.  The Children’s Entertainers were amazing. Party games, a puppet show, magic tricks.   Son 1 had the time of his life.  Son 2 less so… he needed me to help him enjoy it and although I did my best I couldn’t always do it. Nanna just sat on her chair throughout, watching.  I had Great Help.  Son 2’s wonderful Godmother queened it in the kitchen with The Man, serving squashes, teas, coffees… and, when I got up the nerve, beer and bucks fizz. She washed up, she did the party bags.  She’s a miracle.  Best Friend’s Mother got the most outrageous gossip from her chatting.  All to do with ex-boyfriends, impossible overlaps between Reception Dads and Breastfeeding Group Mums, and a jaw-dropping “I should have chosen you” moment.   Bloody Hell. If “He” goes off with “Her” it’ll be my fault.   And the present pile, oh God the present pile.  It was for two children remember…. but a small, church hall table piled with 50 plus presents does not look good.   In my defence, Son 2 had money for the Children’s Hospice instead of presents for his christening. And I promise they’re having goats next year.   ”Did you like your party, Son 1?” “Yes I really enjoyed it.”  And still they both span bedtime out to get more time with Mummy.

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.  Scooby Dooooo

2.  There’s a Song To Be Sung 

3.  Perfect Parties

Shoulda been cleaning and tidying up.  But in fact was chasing Son 1 aged 4 around the house with the Scooby bike and net trying to catch ghosts.  Son 1 laughing and dimpled and holding the ghost as high as he could, never registering the fact that I’m twice the size of him.  Every time I caught a ghost or twisted it from him he disintegrated into disappointed, petulant child.  We ran up and down three flights.  And woke Son 2 aged 1 up.

The Young Ones was on the radio.  “Once in every life time… comes a love like this.  I need you.  You need me.  Oh my darling can’t you see-ee-ee-ee.”  The song stopped.  I carried on.  “Some day, when the years have flown, darling then we’ll teach the Young Ones of Our Own.” “Are you young, Mummy?” asked Son 1, from the hall, as I shovelled pasta into Son 2.  From the Perfect Parenting Pamphlet:  Discuss contentious issues as they arrive naturally.  “I’m a little bit older than your some of your friends’ mummies.” “Then stop singing that song.” 

We went to a party in the afternoon.  The party leader from last week’s event 10 miles away.  Son 1 loved it.  Son 2 was just too tired.  Son 1 played the games, ate the food, bounced on the bouncy castle, tried out the birthday bike (so much more sensible than a drum kit,) showed another child the birthday card  (pop up dinosaur. Choice limited in The Town) and didn’t want to go home.  “Look darling.  The other children are getting party bags.” “Party bags are everywhere.”  Son 2 laughed in delight when he saw the baby sling.  Son 1 sat in The Pram and passed out on the way back.   

1.  Morningtown

2.  Stairgates 

3. Happy birthday already

Son 2 aged 11m started calling at 6am.  Son 1 aged 3y 10m was still very tired, and therefore very needy, and therefore very difficult, because he justs wanted me, and I was feeding Son 2.  I had thought Son 2 was losing interest in the morning feed, making it easy to drop as soon as he gets to be 12m.  Nope.  He too was tired this morning, so he just wanted to feed and feed to make himself feel better.  I gave him breakfast, he played with his toys, crawled a bit, pulled himself up to his feet a bit, cried quite a lot… and then I put him back to bed, while Son 1 watched Scooby Do..

The stairgates are out again.  One for the lounge door.  One for the top landing.  Son 2 is a pretty fast crawler now, but prefers to be with us, so doesn’t really stretch out on his own.  He can also pull up to his feet, and tries just about every hold he can find on anything vertical and bigger than him.  He pulled up every chance he got today.  He wasn’t doing on Sunday, and I like to think it’s a talent he’s developed today.  But I have a feeling the first times must have been on Nursery’s or Wonder Nanny’s watch, and they’ve been too kind to  mention it.  Son 1  loved the lounge stairgate.  Carefully inspected it, earnestly closed it. With a series of jail-volume CLANKS as he tried to get it right.  Which woke Son 2.

Out to a 2nd birthday party.  Sufferin’ scuttlefish I can still remember what his mother was wearing on the day she told me she was expecting him.  I swear the odd drop of time just rolled slowly down the sink now and again in all those years before I had children.  Now it’s  pouring away at top speed like someone left every tap on full.   Anyway.  Four other families, plus our hosts.  Son 2 recognised the house instantly, and was clingy, but happy playing with the toys.  Son 1 disappeared outside into a game of Lord of the Flies with the other 3+s .  As usual, he wanted to go home the second he clapped eyes on the party bags.  He went to sleep for a good hour when we came back.  And I got Son 2 down as well.  So I had a nice, peaceful time for about 12 minutes, when Son 2 woke up again.