1.  Ding Dong Bell

2.  Humpty Dumpty

3.  And Jill Came Tumbling After

We went out to a Fondue Dinner last night.  Friends, and Friends of Friends.  A very nice time.  Too much wine.  Back at 0130.  Son 2 aged 16m woke us up at 6am with his skull-splitting, ear-piercing, only-mummy-will-do shrieking.    It was Very Hard.  I took both boys downstairs and got drinks and snack tubs, got everything back upstairs again, and told The Man that as he’d just had 25 minutes’ lying in, I was going back to bed.  I got in Son 1 aged 4y 3m’s bed, and just drowsed.  The Man brought Son 2 down to me at about twenty to nine.  That hour and a quarter extra in bed was A Very Good Thing Indeed.

i took Son 2 to Baby and Toddler swimming, and he loved it.  We bounced, we played Humpty Dumpty, he walked in the pool a bit, he wore his armbands, he swam with me a bit, he floated on his own for a few seconds.  He looked and looked at the other children, lifeguards, safety equipment, marks on the wall - there was nothing he didn’t stare at.  He fell asleep in the car and then slept in his cot for two hours.  He had a great time, but I don’t know that I’ve done him any good.  He had a cold, and he’s really not very well at all tonight.  I took him because I knew it would give him a deep sleep afterwards, I knew he was already tired and I don’t know how else to get him to wind down.  He does have long sleeps with Wonder Nanny, but it’s as if when we’re around it’s just “Mummy and Daddy are here so I’ll stay up, thanks.”

I took Son 1 up to the pool while Son 2 was sleeping. His Wednesday Friend was there, so he was happy.  He wanted to play a game I need goggles for, so I went to the locker and took them out of the bag.  When I got back he was being swept round the pool on his surfboard by the River Run.  I went round with him and he pushed me away “I’m doing it on my OWN.”  After our friends left, we went on the Flume.  Together about 5 times, and then, without warning, instead of waiting for me to sit down and then climbing into my lap, he sat on the hotseat himself and looked up expectantly at the Lifeguard.  A nod, he pushed himself off, and That Was It.  Son 1 goes down the Flume on his own.  7 times or more.  I slid down alone after him.   Pang.

1.  December Sunshine

2.  Decorations

3.  Marvellous Him

We went to The Beach.  Sheltered from the bitter prevailing wind, it was paradise.  Cold, but spectacular.  Blue sky, blue sea, bright sunshine and crisp fresh air.  We shared it only with about 20 dog owners and their hounds.  And a couple of old ladies in swimsuits and hats having a dip in the sea.  Our party numbered four mothers, six boys aged 4 and under, one girl aged 18m and one old sloppy dog.  The other dogs stayed down by the water (for a change.)  The boys stayed up on the sand (for a change.)  The sloppy dog didn’t try and hump any of the other dogs (for a change.)  And the mad woman with the spaniel who beat the sloppy dog when it tried to hump her dog wasn’t there.  So many Good Things.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m was exhausted, and fell out with his best friend.   Son 2 aged 14m slept for about 20 minutes and was then woken up by boys yelling.  They were not at their best.  I packed up to go and Son 1 played on a wooden table top.  And then slid off, head-first, stuck, upside down, legs on the table, face wedged on the bench.

Son 2 roared, Son 1 whinged. I got them home and fed them lunch.  Er… at quarter to three.  See previous comments about how well they behave for Wonder Nanny, who has never been known to wing a meal.  The Man came back and took Son 1 out to get a Christmas Tree.  I put a reluctant, over-tired, Very Loud Indeed Son 2 to sleep.   A tree arrived, together with a blitheringly excited Son 1.  “We can’t go in the loft for the decorations while Son 2 is asleep.  We’ll wake him up.”  Son 1 has never seen any reason to mind if Son 2 is awake.  This has been the root of a great deal of tension between him and us over the last 14m.  We went in the loft for the decorations.  Son 2 woke up.  Nanna came round.  The tree was decorated.  The little boys were entranced.    

And through it all,  Son 2 walked.  Ten and twelve steps at a time.  Backwards and forwards in the kitchen, wearing his Marvellous Me expression.  Wobbling round the beds upstairs.  To the washing machine.  On the beach, just a little bit, to show everyone what he could do.  And then afterwards he needed a finger to hold on to.  This is obviously confidence-gathering time.  But he walked for Nanna, he walked for The Man and he walked for Son 1.    He cuddled Son 1 before they went to bed, he fell asleep almost straight away, and he’s (so far) stayed asleep.  Mmmm.  Is it possible that this Walking Thing might sort out the Sleep Problems?

1.  Rahrr

2.  The Dietician

3. The Green chair

I went in the double bed in Son 2 aged 11m’s room in case he had another bad night.  He slept soundly, and so did I.  This morning I was wakened by him stirring. I froze because I thought he might go back to sleep.  Nope. This is Son 2 we’re talking about.  He lay in his cot going “Rahrr” which is his What-Do-You-Say-To-A-Lion noise.  And then patted his open mouth with his open palm, Apache-fashion, which he’s just learned and likes doing.  And then lay there in the dark going: Da-da-da-da-da-da.  It’s the first time I’ve known him wake and not cry instantly.

I had a vague memory that his dietician’s appointment was at the start of September, and a vague memory that the dietician clinic is on a Tuesday. So I rang the Hospital.  Yep.  Appointment at 1.30pm.  A Good Thing we didn’t miss it.  Anyway, she says not to worry that he’s small, he’s just small.  9th centile for weight, 25th for length and 9th for head.     The red book dots show the story of his reflux.  Born on the 50th, on the 25th for eight weeks while he was refluxing and not being sick, and then dropped to 9 and stayed there when the vomiting started.  With a little dip down to the 2nd when he was ill in July.  “He’s had a rough time,” she said. Put butter and oil on his pasta. Give him lots of cheese. ”He’ll catch up.”  Wonder Nanny brought the boys to the Hospital, and I met them there.  It was fantastic to see them in the middle of the day, but hard saying goodbye.  Especially as I’d hoped I’d get out early but ended up trapped in The Office…

Son 1 aged 3y 11m has, since he was barely 2, pushed his little green early learning centre chair across the kitchen floor to stand on when he wants to stand at the worktops. Cooking, stealing food or just general pestering, the little green chair is steered across.  Son 2 did it today, for the first time.  He knew how, and he knew where he was going with it - same place Son 1 goes.   How weird to think that he is sitting there watching us the whole time and everything is going into that little 9th centile head.

1. Living is easy

2. Fish are jumping

3. Mummy and Daddy standing by

Son 2 aged 11m and I were downstairs when we heard little boy chatter and running feet upstairs.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m and his Friend. Up at 7am, and a three-hour game of pirates, involving every pirate we have, the Lost Boys, the Indians, both pirate costumes, three out of our four floors and the garden, the Scooby Do toys and all our Thomas the Tank engines (nos 1 to 8.)   Mother arrived at 10am with Little Bro and the dog.   Son 1 sobbed when Friend went.  Curled up on the doormat like a little woodlouse and howled his name.

Today was the only nice day in the weather forecast ever.  We had to take The Boat out.  I made a mighty picnic, 5 and a half rounds of sandwiches, three pots of fromage frais, two bags of rice cakes, leftover cocktail sausages, 2 apples, 2 boxes of raisins, one box  of sultanas and apricots, milk, water, smoothies.  Both Sons were, as usual, cranky and tricky with fatigue.  And so were The Man and I.  ”They’re so tired they’ll both be asleep before we’re out of the harbour,” I said. We chugged off past the £3m house.  It took me half an hour to get Son 2 off to sleep, and another half hour to get Son 1 off.  We were far up river, in a beauty spot.  The fish were, indeed, jumping. “You can’t drop the anchor.  It’ll wake Son 2 up,” I said. ” I can anchor off the back,” said The Man.  He did so.  I made coffee.  We admired the scenery, and chinked coffee mugs.  The boat swung round. Sunshine streamed into the cabin onto Son 2’s face.  He woke up.

Like Swee’ Pea, Son 2 crawled round the deck.  I didn’t have any suntan lotion.  Four weeks of rain and I still can’t stand to see sunlight on his little fair face.  “The depth is flashing 1m,” I said to The Man.  He peered overboard.  “Yes we’ve bottomed.  I can get it off if you want.”  “How?”  “I don’t know.” “Go on then.”  “I’ll put it in reverse and use the wake from these boats.” A great puff of smelly smoke and a grinding engine noise. The Man peered into the water again. ”No, we’re stuck.  Have to wait for the tide to come in.” So we cleaned the boat.  Son 1 woke up with the excitement, and he and The Man scrubbed and sluiced the dried seagull dung off the deck.    I dustbustered the cabin.  Son 2 brushed the carpet furiously with the broken-off corner of an M and S instant latte packet.   Eventually we floated off.  I’d stuffed that coolbag with food, and yet on the way back still suffered Son 1’s endless chorus of “What else is there?”    I preferred “Are we there yet?”

1.  Call Guinness

2.  Notice

3. Apples

Son 2 aged 10m slept through until Son 1 aged 3 y and 10m, and I woke him at 0650.  The Man is away. I got downstairs at 0620 without waking either child, which gave me chance to get Son 2’s lunchbox together.  And a coffee.  A wraith in white pyjamas appeared: “Mummy I can’t wait till my birthday.” ”Hello darling.  Where’s Son 2?”  “Fast asleep.”  Son 2 doesn’t do fast asleep.  He does light sleep, dog dozing, cat naps, power naps, 40 winks, WHERE THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING? and COME BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.  I pootled about for a bit, and then my nerve failed me.  I went up the stairs,  worried sick about what I’d find in the cot.  He was, indeed, fast asleep.  And then two big dark eyes snapped open.  

The jolly nursery nurse is free on Son 1’s birthday afternoon, so she’s booked.  I gave his month’s notice today - he starts at the Posh, Outstanding, Inconvenient Nursery next month.  Pang.  It doesn’t seem a minute since I stood there, clueless, in a skirt suit, four months pregnant and booking my back-to-work childcare.  A small child crawling on the floor handed me a toy.  “Oh thank you,” I said.  “A stripey hippo.”  “It’s a Fimble,” the nursery nurse said.  And now I  know the names of all the Fimbles.  And their toys.    

The Man wasn’t back in time to get the boys, so I collected them.  I went in, said a cheery hello, and then heard a familiar banshee wail.  Son 2, disintegrating at the sound of my voice.  In the car, Son 1 rifled through the shopping bag and snaffled an apple.  Son 2 stared, smacking his lips.  So I nibbled off a side of skin and gave him one too.  But the reason Son 2 likes apples is he likes biting off the skin and spitting it out down his top.  And he’s not quite there with the tongue control. All I could hear in the back seat of the car was him gagging.    Two stops later I got him home alive, vowing not to do that again.   And The Man got back for bathtime.

1.  White noise

2.  Peter Pan

3.  Quality time

Lordy, Son 2 aged 10m. 0030am, woke up howling.  He was really hot, so we gave him calpol, water, and put a fan on.  White noise, I thought.  Bound to help him back to sleep.  He just sat up, pointing himself in the fan’s direction (too dark to see it.)  0600 up, wants his feed.  I think in cave baby days the mothers just used to curl up on the bearskin with the snoozing children in the daytime.  It’s the only way this can be evolutionally possible.  On a positive note, because The Man was going away today, he stayed up with Son 2 last night.

The package full of Son 1 aged 3y 10m’s birthday party stuff was delivered to The Office.  I was late back, and completely crashed Wonder Nanny’s finish time.  She was, as always, saintly about it.  Son 1 was just gibbering over his box.  He was allowed to open it; he was allowed to get out the packets and look at them; he was not allowed to open them.  Peter Pan napkins, cups, plates, banners etc everywhere.  Son 2 was absolutely into it too, pulling things out of the box, shaking them, looking at them, making the plastic on the packets rattle and eating them.  “Thank you mummy for my lovely Peter Pan things.  I love them,” said Son 1.  I got kisses, I got cuddles.  And then I got: “My birthday is too long.  I want it now.”  “It’s Son 2’s birthday first,” I said.  ” You need to think about what you want to get him for a present.”  “I know THAT,” said Son 1, crossly.

Got Son 2 to bed.  Got Son 1 to bed.  The Man rang.  Put the side of Son 2’s cot up.  Woke Son 2.  MELTDOWN. Fed him again.  He’s batting his ear madly.  I  wonder if he’s going to,  again, prove me entirely unreasonable and come down with some bug.  I have decided to view the crying not as time stolen from me, and not to think about my delayed food, or the pile of work I still had to do.  Instead I will view it as what I’ve always wanted: more time with the baby.  

1.  Kip

2.  Visitors

3.  Kip

The moment, at 1am, when The Man took over Son 2 aged 10m who had been howling for two hours, was a Good Thing.  Jaysus, once that child gets over-tired there is nothing to be done with him.  I held him ,I rocked him, I lay beside him on the double bed.  Each time he went to sleep, and each time, as soon as I put him in the cot… MELTDOWN.   So loud it hurt my teeth. And then he woke up again at 0530.  And so did Son 1 aged 3y 10m.  The day began.

Murky rain.  One set of Wednesday friends went off to see grandparents today.   So the others came round here.  “Don’t get out the pirate stuff,” I said to Son 1.  “It’s too dangerous for Son 2 and the nearly-2 year old little brother.”  So he got the pirate stuff out.  There is tons of it.  Peter Pan pirates, Playmobil pirates, pirates from France, Ghouly pirates from Woolies… all with their own little guns and cuffs and paddles and swords.  Collecting up the tiny coins from a Playmobil treasure chest, I wondered aloud what kind of oddball toy designer inserts something into little children’s homes specifically aimed at choking their smaller siblings.  “Just write 4+ on the package, it’ll be fine.”  “And what are you eating?” I asked Son 2.  I fished in his mouth.  A tiny coin from a Playmobil treasure chest.   

Son 1’s sleep was very disturbed by the midnight banshee, and he was shattered today.  Misbehaving monstrously while our friends were here: “I’ve never seen him like this before,” said the other mum.  So after they left I put Son 2 to bed, and then him.  Both asleep at 2.30.  I cleared up the lunch things, tidied the toys, did some washing, sorted the veg box and made dinner.  Braised beef and sweet potato. 2nd stage weaning. Annabel Karmel.  I quadrupled the quantities to make enough for Mother, Son 1 and Son 2 for dinner, and then to freeze for baby food.  The Man rang.  He had planned an overnight business trip but cancelled because of the weather.  He’ll try again tomorrow.   He thought the casserole was nice.  A bit sweet, but very nice.

1.  The Darkest Hour

2.  The New nursery

3.   A Lovely Day

Son 2 aged 9m started screaming at 0230 - half an hour before The Man had to get up to leave for the airport.  I went down to offer him the solace of his mother in his hour of need.  And an hour later put him back in his cot and went downstairs to make a cup of tea.  He screams and writhes if I’m not there.  He screams and writhes if I am there.  I saw on some website that “high needs” (= 2008 terminology for babies who get very very cross) infants can end up stimulated by the presence of their mothers at night. That’s very Son 2.  I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP I WANT TO GET UP NOW WHERE ARE THE TOYS WHERE IS SON 1 COME ON EVERYBODY.   

At last Son 1 aged 3 and a half could load his 2 Bookstart bags full of toys, his Thomas the Tank Engine pull along suitcase full of toys, and his pirate box full of toys into the car for the taster day at the posh, inconvenient nursery.  We went with Wonder Nanny and Son 2.  Random play with anything to start off with… Son 1 went outside and played with sharks and whales and dolphins in a sand table filled with water, then a farm indoors, then an indoor sand pit, then a dolls house.  We then went up to their little canteen for lunch - they had three or four choices of main meals and he wanted everything.  He had Shepherd’s Pie and peas and rice and then pasta off my plate. Wonder Nanny started showing him how to use a knife and fork to eat the Shepherd’s Pie.  Ah. I’m supposed to move him off his spoon then now am I?  After lunch Wonder Nanny took Son 2 to try to get him to sleep, and Son 1 had more play… We ran around outside: “Mummy there are so many wonderful things to play with,” went back in and played with dinosaurs, played on a xylophone and read some books.  From what the other mums were doing, I think I was supposed to stand on the side and let him play with the other children.  Next time I will wear my “Working mother who feels she never has time to play with her child” tee shirt.  And then we went for a swim in their swimming pool, which Son 1 loved.  He just didn’t want to get out.  On the way back “Did you like the new nursery darling?” “Yes.”  “They had lovely toys, didn’t they?” “Yes.”  “Did you like the other children?” “No.”  “Do you think you’ll be friends with them in September?” “Yes.”

And then because that wasn’t enough for one day, we went over to Mum’s for dinner.  Wonder Nanny gave the boys some tea, I gave Son 2 a quick feed, piled them in the car and drove over. Younger Sister, Godfather 2 and Mother had visited a Garden, then Godfather 2 was cooking.  Son 1 had sausage and mash, and ate the mash and wanted seconds, and made pretty short work of the sausage as well.  Son 2 was just too tired, but enjoyed playing with Mum’s birthday balloon.  Son 1 chatted, ran in and out of the garden, did a new puzzle Mum bought him and played with the zoo I took over for Son 2.   On the way back Son 1 said “This has been a lovely day, hasn’t it Mummy?”          

1. The Big Sleep

2. The Party

3. The Bath

Son 2 aged 7m hasn’t slept for any decent amount of time in the day since Tuesday.  So this morning he woke up, fed, played with Son 1 aged 3 and a half, watched telly with Son 1 and The Man, read a book with me, and then went back to sleep.  For nearly 3 hours.  I went into weekend cook-ahead mode, and Widow Twankie mode and clear up mode while  The Man took Son 1 to his swimming lesson.   Son 2 was on the double bed, propped on a feeding pillow with the quilt on him in a darkened room. I really am going to have to take him to a cranial osteopath.  He presses his hand to his forehead when he’s tired and screams and screams.  

Son 1 wouldn’t go to sleep, so he ended up overtired at this afternoon’s party.  We managed to be 3/4 hour early because I got the time wrong.  Being early is definitely a Best Three Thing - I simply can’t manage it.  A little bit of my brain always knows there’s a little bit of time there that I could try and cram something else in.  Then Son 1 wanted the loo and, while he was weeing was distracted by Son 2 and weed over the floor, wall and in the Birthday Boy’s Older Brother’s doctor’s case.   (Because Son 1 took it in there.  And left it open next to the loo. And no, I didn’t spot the potential hazard.) Anyway, Son 1 was so tired he was climbing down from the party table and lying on the floor before the arrival of chocolate fingers and cake… Son 2 was grizzling and bawling, bawling and grizzling, and I was watching in envy as the hostess plonked herself on a chair outside her front door and lit up. 

Had a good run, and decided that after a week in which I’ve worked my rump off both at The Office and at home I would have a bubble bath.  It was lovely.  Till Son 2 woke up and would not not not settle for The Man.  Son 2 is phenomenal.  He’s nearly dead from tiredness and yet there is nothing that will make him sleep.  Apart from a breast feed - and quite often that doesn’t work either. So the Positive Note to end on is that on Monday I will find him a cranial osteopath.    

1. Let flesh retire

2. Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire

3. Oh still small voice of calm

My weight begins with 11 stone for the first time since Son 2 aged 7 months was grown.  I read a hilarious piece about working women in one of the Sunday magazines - illustrated with pictures of very sleek and elegant, beautifully dressed, hyper-successful businesswomen.  “I am disciplined about my eating, my exercise and my work,” said one.  I don’t think I’ll ever be disciplined about my eating.  In fact in the same mag a couple of months back there was a great piece saying if you’re sleep deprived your system floods with cortisol and your appetite for fat and sugar increases by 25%.   Yum.

The positive thing about Son 2’s post Sauvignon Blanc sleep - was the moment when he finally, after two and a half hours, shut up and passed out.  It was murder.  I gave him a dream feed at about 11, and then he started miaowing at 2.30am.  We got him up but I wouldn’t feed him, and he just went on and on and on and on.  Nothing we could do would settle him - he wanted to feed, and I didn’t want him to.  It’s taken me a while to realise he can’t really do it; his reflux means he’s very uncomfortable lying down after a big feed.  So even if he is in bed with me feeding it still ends in howling.  Often mine.  We are agreed tonight that if he wakes we are going to have to leave him because we simply don’ t know how to get him back to sleep.

He did however, sleep for two hours for Wonder Nanny this afternoon.   I hardly saw Wonder Nanny today.  I had to whizz out when she arrived, at lunchtime I was on the phone to The Office almost all the time, and then she’d gone by the time I got back.  She took the boys to the Pirate Playground for the whole morning.  One of the things that ate me up inside when Son 1 aged 3 and a half was in nursery 4 days a week was the idea that he spent so long cooped up indoors.  So the thought of them both being outside on a fine spring morning does help enormously.