1.  Mr Bump

2.  Mr Clever

3.  Bash A Fish

The Man took Son 1 aged 5 to school, so Son 2 aged 2 and I could bond at home.  He chose the activity. Sitting on my knee while he watched The Wiggles.  At the party, a Mum-Of-Three kindly donated 3 Wiggles DVDs which hers have outgrown.  Another friend gave him a “Mister Bump” sweatshirt, which I put him in today, thinking it was hilarious.   I went upstairs to do my hair and make up. I went downstairs to put on washing, clean up and get our packed lunch ready. ”Mummeee!  It’s Bished (Finished)!” called Son 2’s distant voice. “Ok!” I called back. Bump-Thump-Crash-Waaaaaaah.  Down the stairs again.  I couldn’t see him, but I know what happened. He thought I was upstairs and was heading on up… he heard my voice from downstairs… swung round and splat.  Never happens with Wonder Nanny. Always happens with me.

I pushed him over to the Rockpool Beach to see the Wednesday Friends. Another Mum from breastfeeding group five years ago was also there.  Two little Wednesday brothers, who’d both been at the Birthday Tea yesterday, were knackered. One cuddled his Mum and slept… the other played and sat.  They were in rainsuits and fleeces.  Son 2, within seconds of arriving, demanded to play in the water. I put him in his neoprene swimsuit, with his sunsuit over the top. He’ll freeze soon, I thought, and then he’ll sit with everyone, so I’ll play with him for a bit first.  Clutching the fishing net I’d transported upright on the Big Pram, he led me to the rockpools.  They were all full of shrimps.  Poor old Son 1 and I have been to that beach time after time. He loves catching shrimp. And we really had very little luck.  It’s one of the reasons we moved onto crabbing. And yet, just after high tide, there they all were, darting around in every one.  It was great. It probably means another polar bear somewhere with no ice cap to live on, but it was great. We caught three before Son 2 demanded we look for crabs. Which we couldn’t find.  He didn’t get cold. He didn’t sleep.  

We walked back via The Square. I had a coffee and got Son 2 a hot chocolate.  He fell over on the concrete - this is where he fell and ended up in casualty - and blacked his cheek. He pointed at something. “Big SeeSaw,” he said.  I kept trying but didn’t get it.  “Seahorse?”  “No.  ‘Mine. Mine. Mine.’ Like Nemo.”  “Oh, seagull!” “Es.”  We rounded up The Man and went to collect Son 1.  “You can bring siblings in for the school photos tomorrow,” said Smiley Teacher. Of course we can. Because Son 2 has a great swollen red mark on his cheek. On the way back we stopped in at The Fish Shop with a sample of water from our tank. Hooray. We can buy two fish.  Son 1 picked some little sparkly silver ones.  Back home, they watched his new Kung Fu Panda DVD, while The Man and I tried to sort the tank. When he set it up, he left the plants in baskets. And they have to be planted. So I stuck two in the gravel and tied one to the bogwood. Then we couldn’t get the airpipes into the skull and the treasure chest properly.  And the tank looked all stirred up and murky. So we put the fish bag in it. The boys ate tea, and then, at last, we released Flossy and Coupon into the water. They seemed to like it.  Then, upstairs, while I was putting Son 2 to bed, Son 1 asked if he could go down and have another look at the fish.  When I’d finally got them both to sleep, I went downstairs and there was only one. “I think we’ve killed the other one already,” said The Man. “Son 1 frightened it, it swam behind the bogwood and that’s it. That was an hour ago. ”  Bugger, I thought. I’d liked those fish.  I went downstairs for the paper while we were eating our meal. Two fish. It vanished again while we were washing up, and then came out when we switched the light off.  I do hope they live. We can have some more at the weekend, according to the woman in the shop. I am having one. When the boys have chosen theirs, and when they are settled, I am going to get one more.  i will put it into the gang and see how long it takes for them to notice. But it will always be Mine.

1. After the break…

2.  Fishing

3.  The mermaid

No it hasn’t finished.  0515, howls from the cot.  Unwrap Son 2 aged 10m on changing mat.  Up to his waist in it.  Changed, cleaned, nice feed… laid him down on bed.  He stunk.  Changed him again.  Woke up at 7… he was hungry.  Rabbit toast, and weetabix, banana and live probiotic yoghurt all mixed up.  (I have been surfing for cures again.)  He ate the head off the rabbit and all the Grown Up Breakfast (AK.)  I think he might be on the mend.  The sludge hasn’t changed in composition or volume… but he seems better.  

So, confidence growing after yesterday,  we decided to go out in The Boat to the beach.     Very hard work even getting out of the house, and at one point before we’d anchored, I’d had, within 5 minutes,  The Man popping at me, Son 1 aged 3 y 9m having a strop over first the suncream, and then his sunsuit, and Son 2 screaming because he was exhausted and I’d left him on the bunk to sort Son 1 out.  I was Never Going Again.    But we all piled into the dinghy, Son 1 on beach, nappy bag, beach bag, food bag on beach.  Son 2 to The Man. Me on beach.  Dinghy pulled up.  Tent up.  And Son 1 and I wandering around the rock pools and shoreline with his fishing net. I caught two shrimps.  “Let’s eat them,” he said, repeatedly.  We took them back to show The Man and Son 2. “Daddy we’ve got two shrimps and we’re going to eat them.”   ”We can’t. Mummy doesn’t know what to do with them.” “We’ve got some crayfish tails in the fridge, would you like those instead?”  “Yes.”  Son 2 liked the shrimps.  He liked putting his fingers in the bucket to get tickled.

I wanted to swim in the sea.   But there was always a boy who wanted to fish, a dinghy to pull up away from the incoming tide, someone who needed the loo, snacks and drinks to hand out… Finally I got in.  It was freeeeeeeezing.  ”Mum-meee! Come back!” Son 1, at the water’s edge, yelling like the boy in Shane.  I wobbled back over all the stones and rocks.  “Do you want to come in?” “Yes.”  We got about four yards in, Son 1 up to his chest. “Mummy don’t forget I can’t swim.”  Good point.  We played where the waves broke.  I was a mermaid, he was a pirate.  He sat on my knee, the waves pushed us along, he splashed me and splashed me and we laughed and laughed.  It was Son 1’s first time up to his shoulders in the sea.  He went back to Daddy, I went swimming again.  Fantastic.  A total cure for anything.    

Back on the boat I changed Son 2.  Another “episode” in his nappy.  I changed Son 1.  I pulled down my swimming costume and Son 1 roared with laughter.  My chest and boobs were covered in sand, and there, draped between my 36Gs, was a bright green, feathery piece of seaweed.