1.  Dough

2.  Bread

3.  Darkness and Hail

They wanted to play with the Playdoh, and like a fool I let them.  Son 2 aged 2y 1m plays with it during the week, under Wonder Nanny’s gentle supervision.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m plays with it at school, charming teachers and Tea Club Helpers with the delight he takes in it.  Together, on the little yellow table, they were murderous.  If Son 1 rolled, Son 2 wanted the roller.  If Son 2 squodged, it was the blob Son 1 was going to use. There was snatching and scrapping and shrieking.  And finally there was a lump of blue, trod into the bottom of Son 2’s shoes… and then into the stairs, and the hall carpet, and the lino.  While we were away, the carpet cleaner came and did the lounge, which was looking a bit Jackson Pollock.  ”If one bit of Playdoh gets on the carpet upstairs, I’m throwing it all out,” I said.  We went shopping. “Is it pocket money day?” said Son 1, as I counted out coins in the fishmonger’s. I gave him a £2 coin. We had to go to the toyshop. The only thing he wanted for £2 was a Playdoh toy.  And like a fool, I let him.

We met the Vicar in M and S.  We were trying to control a tantrumming Son 2… he was wandering round with a basket, peering at the ready meals. “Is it your turn to cook?” I asked.   No. The Vicar’s Wife is going on a trip, helping one of their sons move to a town many hundreds of miles away.  “But The Church is full of great cooks,” I said. “Can’t you just work it into a conversation so that someone will arrive carrying a casserole?” “I haven’t told anyone she’s going,” he said. “I don’t like to impose.”  That’s why I like the Vicar.  One of the most imposed-upon people I have ever met… whose flock includes scores of ladies of a certain generation who would rain pies upon him if he asked… but he doesn’t like to impose. He headed off to the check out with a bottle of wine on top of his shopping, so I liked him even more.   I simply don’t have enough life to cook for The Vicar.  But I know someone who might.   I think I’ll mention it…

Son 2 finally fell asleep in The Big Pram; Son 1 and I went to change the library books; The Man strode off home with the shopping.  Son 2 woke up just as we were leaving the library, and picked up his tantrum where he left off. ”I wan’  ge’ ou’!”  “No. It takes too long to get you back in.”  I pushed him up the hill, Son 1 trailing behind us looking at his Playdoh toy.  I suddenly noticed the sky, very, very low, and very, very dark. “Son 1! Will you please hurry! There’s an enormous black cloud up there and I want to get us home now!”  He walked slowly on.  “Son 1, MOVE! That big black cloud is just about to dump everything it has on our heads.” He got the message, but he couldn’t move fast enough.  It started to rain, so I swept him under the handle of the Big Pram onto his nappy bag seat, and pushed them both up the hill so fast my heartbeat pounded in my ears.  We were 300 yards from home when the hail started machine-gunning down on us, hammering onto the road so hard it bounced back hip high.  Son 1 and Son 2 screamed.  The Big Pram is a Big Pram because it’s a three-wheeled, heavy-axled, jogging buggy, bought in the days when I thought I would still run 30 miles a week. Son 1 and I went running with it seven whole times, but Son 2’s reflux meant we never tried.  Until today.  I RAN.  It still does its stuff. We crammed ourselves into the porch, soaking.  “I wet,” said Son 2. “Big back cowd.”  It stopped his tantrum.  But I can’t quite work out if it means I’m supposed to cook something for The Vicar.

1.  Splashback

2.  Flashback

3.  Backtrack

Son 2 aged 20m came in the bath with me this morning.  This was a Good Thing. From when he was tiny, Son 2 lay on his feeding pillow watching me in the shower.  Then he sat up and watched me i in the shower. Then he crawled towards the bath.  Then he pulled himself up.  And then he used to play in the water, every morning, while I showered and washed my hair.  Always. At some point recently he wouldn’t come in with me any more.  I can’t remember when. Son 1 aged 4y 8m had started watching DVDs downstairs instead of Ben 10-style CItv upstairs… and Son 2 was interested in some of them.  Or he was playing with toys.  I’ve given him the choice, and off he’s gone.  This morning we read 5 stories, and he decided to come in with me.  Played with his new watering cans, didn’t want to get out. Nice to have him back.

I went for coffee with a Colleague on maternity leave.  An eight month old little girl in the pushchair with us.  I held her, and realised I simply couldn’t remember either of the boys at that age.  So I’ve been back a year in the Blog.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/06/09/before-7am/ On June 9 2008 I’d just had an awful night with Son 2 screaming for me, so bad that I’d left him alone in the small hours and gone downstairs to make a cup of tea.  The following day I took him to a cranial osteopath.  Now he sleeps through the night, every night.  He can cry when I put him down, but never for more than 5 minutes. And today he went to sleep without crying when I left.  It all passes.

 Son 1 is mad about a Nick Sharrett book called “You Choose.”  It came from Nursery in his Bookstart box, and we start off choosing where we are going to go, what sort of house we will live in, who our family and friends will be, our furniture, clothes, food, transport, jobs, hobbies and bed.  Well, I choose, and Son 1 says “I’m coming with you.” Tonight we chose a tree house in a forest near a village.  Then we did Pumpkin Soup, A Pipkin of Pepper and Delicious. Then I asked: “Did you get the book for me?”  Oxfam, again, had a book in the window about a child with Son 2’s (unusual) name.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/04/29/well-done-mummy/ Son 1 and I had it from the library when I was pregnant.  It may have been where I first got the name idea.   I’d asked Wonder Nanny to get it.  “Yes.”  “Did you read it?” “Yes.”  What are the chances of Oxfam, a few hundred yards from our house, putting two children’s books in the window, both featuring the same very unusual boy’s name?   There is glue holding this world together.

1.  Bathing Beauty

2.  Separation Anxiety

3.  Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot  

0530.  Son 2 aged 16m.  WAAAAAH.  I pelted down, desperate to get there before he woke Son 1 aged 4y 4m.  Put him in the bed, snugged next to him. Nope.  He wanted up.  After a Very Long Time, annoyed that he wouldn’t go back to sleep,  I plonked him back in the cot and went to the loo.  Hell was unleashed.  So there we all were.  Up.  I was reading to Son 2.  The Man had a shower.  Son 2 wriggled down from the bed, toddled off to stare up at him and started pulling at his baby pyjamas.  In he went.   The Man came out. In I went.  Son 2 played and chattered.  I dressed, picked up the toys, put them away, went to get Son 2’s clothes.  “A-Ma,” he said, pointing at the browny matter half-sinking beside him.    But on the bright side, at least I’ had already taken all the toys out…

I got out of The Office spot on 5pm.  Driving home there were two calls from The Man on my mobile.  One I can ignore… I’m driving, I’m not pulling over.  Two… what does he want?  PIcking up from somewhere?  Can-you-get-some-vital-item?  I pulled over.  He is all right now.  He has seen Wonder Nanny’s car driving past.  He’d arrived home at 5pm and the children weren’t there.  He thought something must have happened.  “Now I know how worried you get when you’re in the house without us I’ll make sure it never happens again,” I told him.  “Goodbye,” he said.  Only not that politely.    

The boys had spent the day with two brothers aged 4 and nearly-three and their Nanny.  They’d been for tea at the other house.  Son 1 isn’t well.  Temperature, headache, obviously feeling lousy.  i gave him Calpol… Son 2 begged some.  I got out our fancy new ear thermometer.  He was very upset  “I don’t want it in my ear.”  I took The Man’s temperature.  Son 1 took mine.  (I was definitely iller than The Man.)  Son 1 was 38.9.  Ah. I’ve just put that in an online converter.  Part of the skill in taking children’s temperatures is obviously… er… understanding Celsius.    Oops.   Son 2 refused his bath.  The Man put him in, and he instantly hurdled out, crying.  He pulled his panda towel off the radiator, took it to the place I dry him each night, put it on the floor and sat on it.  I got the message and put him to bed.   Both of them down before 7.  Unheard of.  Son 2 has woken since; I’ve given him Calpol and he’s gulped water. I think we are in for a stormy night.

1.  Awakening

2.  Shopping

3.  Skating

6am. Son 2 aged 13m wailed; The Man went down; Son 1 aged 4y 1m joined them.  I dozed upstairs.  Son 1 came up.  “Son 2 is saying Ma Ma.  Come down.” “Iwillinaminute,” I mumbled.  The Man switched the light on and off and on and off.     Son 2 is lovely, toddling off to pull books down from the shelf, sitting still(ish) while we read them.  And then he wants our shower.   I get out first, and then ask him to pull out the plug so I can get him out.  Unfortunately he’s now started to pull the plug out in his evening bath as well.  Then he wants his breakfast.  Meanwhile Son 1 is lying upstairs on the big bed, watching CITV forever until we drag him down by his ankles.

Son 1 was incredibly tired today - we all were, but he cramped our style a bit.  The Man wanted to go to The Big Town to get some things for tomorrow’s Business Trip.  We all went, with a vague idea that The Man would be with the boys, we wouldn’t rush and we’d just have a low key family day.  Son 1 found a bike he liked in Halford’s… then asked to go the Early learning Centre, and then got in a strop over us not buying him anything.  We walked back to the car in the hammering rain.  By the time we got to the Big Supermarket, we’d decided only I would do the Big Shop.  The Man drove round to get them to sleep.  Son 1 slept. Son 2 didn’t.

At home Son 1 was keen to go down the street with his skates on.  We dressed him up and off we went.  He can balance on them, he can walk with them.  We didn’t go very far but he had a lot of laughs.  He wanted to knock on our neighbours’ house to show them his rig out.  They were admiring.  Although I think Son 1 was thinking more of Halloween when we Trick or Treated them, and she opened the door wearing orange lipstick in a towering witch’s hat.  Son 2 went down in the cot in minutes tonight.  He’s woken up about three times… but I really do think we’re getting there.

1.  The Rash

2.  Rash Actions

3.  Splash

Son 1 aged 4 shrieked regularly and loudly through the night. Till: “If Mummy doesn’t get some sleep she won’t be well enough to go and see our friends tomorrow.”  He woke Son 2 aged 13m up at 0430.  I don’t think Son 2’s spots are chickenpox.  They twinkle.  They’re barely there… they get brighter… they fade… they vanish.  Lots around his neck, front and back.  A couple of very faint ones on his face.  Some angrier looking ones in his little baby nappy creases.  Could be chickenpox, or could be me not believing any child can poo SIX times in one day and leaving him too long sitting in a dirty nappy.

One Wednesday friend has vomiting.  The others have diarrhoea.  And still I took the boys to see each family, separately.  We met Mother 1 and the nearly-3 year old in Costa.  Son 2 is of course the child I do not want to get a vomiting bug. “He’ll be asleep by the time we get there,” I said.   Hey ho.  We went to get Son 1’s hair cut afterwards.  Short back and sides.  He looks great.  If about 7 years old. ”I hate my haircut.”  “Why?” “The hair is in my mouth”  He was really too tired to walk back home, so he sat on the Pram handle, hung on to me and I wheeled them both back somehow.

And then we drove over to the other Wednesday friends’ house.  He played with his Friend, Son 2 played drums, pulled toys out, pulled books out and ate grapes. Late arriving, we didn’t go till three, when both boys were wiped out with fatigue.  At home I got Son 2 to bed for 20 minutes; Son 1 fell asleep watching Scooby Doo.  Son 1 wanted a shower before bed.  I left him in it and Son 2 playing in the bathroom while I drew curtains, tidied beds etc.  “Mummeeee. Emergency!”  A large roll of Andrex had been dumped in the water pooling in the bath.  Son 2 stood by the taps looking pleased with himself.   It took me two hours to get him to sleep.  It’ll be me cutting the breast-feeding/The Man being away/teeth… or maybe he just has got chickenpox.

(The Man has told one of his colleagues about my blog.  I will kill him.  No-one knows.  I can’t put your comment up because you used your real name…  But you did make me larf out loud at ten thirty at night…) 

1. The Man in the Shower 

2. Footprints

3. Reading with Mother

Son 2 aged 9m babbles on.  In the morning, if The Man is having a shower, he has to go to look.  Today I was holding him as he peered upwards at The Man’s wet hair, craned over to watch the water running away into the path, reached out a starfish hand to pat The Man’s back, and blinked as he got sprayed with water.  Saying Da da da da da da.  I get Ma ma ma ma of course, but it’s more in a “hither, wench” or “bring food now”context.

The Man and I are off work this week.  It is Granny and Granddad’s Golden Wedding Anniversary on Saturday.  I got them the most enormous card I could find, which seemed to have a short, fairly neutral bit of wording.  When we opened it out today we realised it has about 10 cloying pages.  Son 1 aged 3 y 9m got out the crayons, then the pens, then the paints.  Then he started painting his foot, because toeprints are fun.  Then a neighbour came round to ask something, and began to help him paint his toes.  Then the Easter box came out, and Son 1 glued fairies onto the card I bought from the boys.   Then he got his fans out to make them for Granny and Granddad.  The Man, who is obsessive compulsive, was slowly disintegrating as each craft activity was added to the junk heap on the kitchen floor.  But he held it together, and patiently helped glue little Valentine’s hearts in place.  It has to be said that Son 1 has made an amazing job of it.  If I’d tried to sit him down and said “Get all your stuff out and do something bumper, and odd and beautiful for Granny and Granddad,” he’d have run off for a sword fight.

Son 2 refused his tea, so I put him on the floor to play while I got ours.  He tummy-shuffled over to the bottom of his highchair, where he lay prone, stuffing his face with abandoned Cheerios.  So I put him back in the highchair, gave him some Cheerios to feed himself and managed to get a few more spoonfuls of nourishing, lovingly-made puree inside him. Then I took him upstairs to do some reading.  I read to Son 1 all the time when he was a baby, and his speech now is amazing.   I’m trying to do the same for Son 2, but it never works because Son 1 always plonks himself inbetween us.   And Son 2’s always got something else he’d rather be doing.  So today I left Son 1 having his pudding, and took Son 2 up for 5 books before his bath.  A success.  That’s Not My Car and Hello Little Bird the faves, followed by Archie’s Animal Friends, Postman Pat’s Peephole book… and then, a long way behind, The Gruffalo.   “What are you droning on about, change that giraffe into a zebra again.”