1.  Snowed Under 

2.  Snow Regrets

3.  Snow Sports

Getting into The Office was a good thing.  The Terrace was frozen, just single track tyre treads worn through white ice.  Two inches of snow on top of every car.  Our taxi driver friend said the main roads are ok, the side streets skating rinks.  Wonder Nanny rang.  Her road was snowed in.  She could walk over.  I thought perhaps two freezing miles in calf-high snow and then a full day looking after children was a bit ambitious.  If she could get down to the main road I’d pick her up. She rang back.  Fiance would bring her over.   The Man got the car out of the space and turned it round, left the engine running and then off I inched.  Second gear.  Praying nothing would come the other way.  And on to the main roads, and I was in.

At The Office a colleague came in happily.  She hadn’t seen snow for 20 years.  I rang home in the afternoon.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m had built two snowmen with Wonder Nanny.   He rolled up the snow to make the body of one of them on his own.  Being positive, this has possibly saved us all a trip to Lapland at Christmas.  But pang, pang, pang.  I wanted to make snowmen with him.  Wonder Nanny took pictures. So I can see how happy he was.  

I parked at the other end of The Terrace, and got out of the car, carrying my chunky briefcase, and an overflowing Tesco carrier bag full of M and S fruit.  Not strong enough, fruit falling out, but I was too mean to pay for yet another Marks one.  A passing friend carried my briefcase to the house while I grappled with my fruit.  There is a very good snowman in the front garden, and another very good one out the back.  At home, I realised I’d left meat I’d bought in Tesco in the boot.  The Man said he’d go and get it.  Son 1 wanted to go.  Son 2 aged 16m wanted to go.  We all went.  Son 2 trotted down in his reins, burbling and whooping all the way.  Son 1 chased The Man, scooping up handfuls of the scant remaining snow and throwing it at him.  Big relief. Wonder Nanny doesn’t do hand-to-hand combat.  He clearly still doesn’t know how to make a decent snowball.  I still have a role.

1.  Dreaming

2.  Dream Come True

3.  Nightmare

4am.  A shape by the side of the bed. Little fingers on my eyebrows.  I lifted Son 1 aged 4y 4 m over into the middle of the Big Bed.  Later, unable to get back to sleep, I got up to go downstairs.  “Mummy?” The little shape followed me down and we got into his bed.  Later, a terrified banshee scream from next door. I pelted in. Son 2 aged 16m was standing up in the corner of the cot.  I whipped him into bed and he went back to sleep.  On holiday in Portugal, I was in an Office suit, but no bra and no shoes.  I was carrying a small red ball.  I’d got on a bus and got off again, but I wasn’t sure where I was.   I needed to get back to get Son 1.  But I had no money and I couldn’t speak Portuguese.  I woke up.   Son 1 was standing on the landing. I went to him.  ”Let’s go downstairs,” I whispered. “Don’t wake Son 2.” He ignored me, clambered into the space I’d just vacated and cuddled Son 2.  Who giggled.

4.30pm. Heavy grey clouds hung low across the sky, thick snow whirled.  Son 1’s Nursery teacher rang.  “Can you come and get him?  We’re worried about the roads.”  By the time I got there the snow was thick on the ground, and there were only two other children left.  Outside, Son 1 was enchanted.  “I’ve always wanted snow haven’t I?” He tried throwing snowballs at me… but as he’s never made one he hasn’t quite got the knack.  He wanted to laugh and play.  I couldn’t see how we were going to get back.  I finally got him in the car and decided to try for home.  It was slow, it was horrible, snow fell continuously.  Before Son 1 was born I would have just gone back to The Office and stayed somewhere overnight.  I wouldn’t have been worried about making the trip with no snacks, blankets or water.  But That Was Then.

The main roads were worrying, but passable.  The Terrace was a snow sheet in the dark.  Son 1 was asleep.  I parked at the end, scuffed the snow away and realised I was on a double yellow line.  I rang The Man.  “There’s a space outside the house, just bring it up.”  I drove up the hill.  I double parked by the space and went to get The Man, thinking he’d be better at parking it than me.  I turned round and the car was rolling away from me backwards down the hill.  A young girl ran into the road to try to stop it.  “My son’s in there!” I shrieked.  “Jump in and put the handbrake on!” she said. “It is on!” I yelled.  I got to the door, leapt in, stood on the brake and yanked the handbrake up as hard as I could. The car stopped.  I looked back.  The girl and a man were standing behind the car.  I thanked them. “Are you all right?”  “No,” I was shaking.  Son 1 woke up and started to cry.   I drove a bit further up the hill and abandoned the car on the side of the road.  The Man opened the front door, holding Son 2 in his cotton pyjamas.  “What have you put it up there for?”  He’d looked out the window, seen me in the car outside, come downstairs and seen me take it up the hill.  Missing a teeny part of the story.

1.  Be Good For Goodness Sake

2.  A Winter Wonderland

3.  Santa Baby

Had a lie in till 0715.  Heard the boys and The Man downstairs but couldn’t get up and didn’t. Eventually a cup of coffee arrived, and then Son 1 aged 4y 2m.  I tried reading to Son 2 aged 15m, but Son 1 was maddening.  Loud, boisterous, destructive, annoying.   Eventually I said “What is in your head when you behave like this?” He said: “My heart is broken because Son 2 is getting all the Mummy Time.”  Ah.    They  both do this.  They’ll both take turns and be sensible when it’s just me, but as soon as The Man or Nanna is added to the equation - which I think will make things easier - they both squabble and roar and irritate, ready to fight to the death not to be the one who gets the second best.

We went to a Garden to see Santa.  It rained as we drove there, grim charcoal-black clouds getting thicker and lower.   When we arrived the boys were asleep, and the rain driving harder.  And it was ARCTIC.  I bought the tickets and sent everyone else into a barn to keep out of the rain.  “Follow the Christmas Trees to Santa,” said the chap in the booth.  Son 1 wouldn’t pull his hood up because he was wearing his Santa hat, and wanted the Great Man Himself to see it.  And then it started to snow.  Proper, light, swirling, coming-faster-and-faster snow.  It snowed all the way down to Santa.  It snowed while we were waiting and looking at all his small but gorgeous reindeer.   A rainbow arched across the sky… faded and then re-appeared.  “This is how you know it’s really Santa,” I told Son 1.  “He needs the snow for his reindeer, and he’s using magic to make rainbows.”  “With his computer?”

Santa was very well done - he sat in a chair and said nothing, a female helper read “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”  Son 2 was scared, but calmed down for the story.  The eight other children were transfixed.  Son 1 sat straight the whole time, shooting his hand into the air for every question.  At the end they got a toy reindeer and The Man took photos.  When we got outside the snow had stopped, and a man on a tractor was stirring a vast vat of fake foam which was being blasted around Santa’s log cabin as we left.  In the cafe Son 1 took one of the decorations off their enormous Christmas Tree.  “Son 1!” I snapped. “I can’t believe you’ve done that here!  You know Santa is very near - is he sees you do that nothing I can say will get you presents on Christmas Day!”  Total disintegration of small child.  Red face. Distress. Real tears.  The Man had the same effect on Son 2 later on when he gave him a Salt and Vinegar crisp.