1.  Outdoor Shoes

2.  Running in the Rain

3.  Day 3

The Man has gone off on another Business Trip.   It made for an odd day, he was buzzing up and down, looking for this, re-charging that, downloading the other.  We decided not to go out so we could say goodbye. So Son 1 aged 4 got very cross because I was washing/cooking/cleaning instead of giving him Mummy time. And Son 2 aged 13m burst into tears everytime he thought he was getting Wonder Nanny instead of me.  Son 2 is in hand-me-down shoes.  Son 1’s first pair, they’re too big for him.  But he knows they mean outside.  He pulled them out from under the drawers and held them up to me, beseeching: “Uh… Uh…”  “Let’s put these on and go outside PLEEEESE” in babyspeak.  He can quack like a duck now. Roar like a lion.  Snap like a crocodile.  And he’s making efforts at mastering moo-ing and barking.   We’re very proud.  He says  “Huwow” many, many times a day, at anyone he thinks might twinkle back at him.  And he does a passable ”tractor” subsitute.  One of those where the vowels aren’t right, the consonents aren’t right, but you can hear he’s confident he’s got it.  Otherwise it’s pointing, tantrums and “uh.” 

After lunch Wonder Nanny put Son 2 to bed (screaming.  Wanted Mummy to do it.)  Son 1 and I looked for Wally - he’s memorised every page in the books and just flips across with a double-jointed finger going “there’s Wally, there’s Wenda, there’s Odlaw.”  He fell asleep.  I thought about dawdling round the shops in The Town, but then knew I had to go running.  I got wet, but I think I escaped the worst of a dismal day.

I put Son 2 to bed and he cried and cried and  arched his back, his old breast-feeding sign.  Oh dear.  Three days now without, so it’s clear that neither of us is going back.  I’m feeling much better about it now, with relief crowding all my other stuff.  Soon I will be able to get rid of the feeding bras and the breast pads.  I’ve already found a home for the feeding pillow. 

1.  Treasure

2.  Biff and Beaujangles

3.  Countdown

A friend came with her son, aged 2.75.  She’d made Son 1 aged 4 a treasure chest for his birthday, and was setting up a treasure hunt in the back garden so he could find it.  She came round as I was putting Son 2 aged 13m down for his sleep… and while Son 1 had fallen asleep while watching telly upstairs.  He was hot and bothered when he woke, but recovered after Calpol and a drink.  Son 2 woke, and all three boys went outside. Son 1 found the clues, found the treasure chest and has gone to sleep with it under his bed.

The elder two boys started ricocheting off the walls after too much treasure chest chocolate and marshmallows.  We all walked into The Town, said our goodbyes to our friends and went to the dinghy park to watch the crane lifting boats out of the water.  The Man knows how to show a girl a good time.  We had coffee looking over the marina - hence Biff and Beaujangles.  Back home I played peekaboo with Son 2 round the high chair while Son 1 - who really isn’t feeling well- laid on the floor upstairs and watched telly.  Son 2 clearly asked for “na na” when he saw one.  He stuffed his face at teatime; Son 1 ate almost nothing.

We put the boys to bed.  In a manner of speaking, Son 2 is still going down on the double bed and crying every time he wakes up without a grown up beside him.  I am cutting back on the bedtime feed, with a view to stopping entirely in a week or so’s time.  I feel very strange about it.  Pleased I’ve managed to feed him this long.  Sad that we’re leaving that special him-and-me thing behind.  Proud I did it - it’s been crap.  But the fact is I won’t feed another child.  And I would of course love to.  Anyway.  We are indulging Son 2’s need for an adult while I move him off the breast.  Then we’ll leave it a week or so and get him back in his cot.  Somehow.  And of course that will be as easy as it sounds.  

I got out for a run tonight, and it made me feel much better.  The moon was nearly full, so I ran up to the top of The Headland. Not all the way round, in recognition of the fact I haven’t been out for more than a week.  But it was a lovely evening, crisp and cold, with The Town full of life as I ran through.  There are street lights only half way up the Headland, so about 400 yards was in pitch black.  It was harder running in the darkness - even with moonlight - than it used to be because there are some very bright lights from the docks which are too far away to light the path, but so bright they stop your eyes adjusting.  I really must defeat my Inner Robbie and Just Go, four times a week.  I have such a good time when I’m running, I sort out all kinds of stuff in my head and, in principle, it will get the weight off too.  Although on the way back I called in to The Spar and bought chocolate and crips.     

1.  Signs

2.  Mimes

3.  Reminders

Looking on the bright side, I’ve started to stop breast feeding, and I’ve cleared out a cupboard.  But big attack of the Pangs.  I didn’t do the morning feed.  I’ve probably picked the worst time to drop it… Son 2 aged 1 is still sleeping badly… his teeth hurt… he’s lost Son 1 aged 4 from his life three days a week… Wonder Nanny is on holiday so he’s done two days in  a row at the Old Nursery for the first time ever… and along I come. You Are One Now So We Have To Stop Breast Feeding.   Son 2 asked and asked (When will Justin do that sign? Launch yourself forward with an open mouth at Mummy’s chest… “you sign ‘I want to feed from your breast.’”) But we did without.  And then I sorted Son 2’s baby clothes round for a friend who’s just had a little boy.  Pa-a-ng.  Horrible.  To start with I was doing a bit of “I could keep this,” and ” I could sell that.” But I decided to just give the lot away.  It hurt.   I’ve taken my first step towards the place where I accept there isn’t going to be another baby. 

But, the day got better.  We went to a party - one of the children from the New Nursery.  Well, one of the children and the entire New Nursery class.  Oh dear.  Now what do I do? Go through the whole year going to New Nursery parties without admitting that we already had a big one… or watch Son 1 not get invited to New Nursery parties because he didn’t invite the whole class.    I am amazed at how much I care about Son 1 and parties. While it’s good to still be able to surprise myself at my age, the old, BC me is standing on a hilltop in a parallel universe willing me to get a life in this one.  I think it’s just because I love seeing Son 1 so happy.  Today he didn’t really know any of the other children, yet he knows the language, pass-the-parcel, the parachute, the team games.  He made tiger claws and roared, he was an aeroplane, he was an elephant.  All unselfconsciously and with sparkling eyes and intent concentration.  Till he sees the party bags. “Can we go home now?”    

Then we went to the friend’s house with the bin bags.  New little three-week-old, lying asleep in his Moses basket.  His 4 year old sister playing instantly with Son 1.  They haven’t seen each other since Christmas, so it was good to see them click. Son 1 shared his party bag chocolates with her… unheard of.  Son 2 carpet-bombed from his nappy. And then crawled up to her keyboard and played and sang into the microphone.  He’s still feeling awful.  And olgaorbit has reminded me what a rubbish time he’s having. I think I’ll sleep with him tonight.

1.  Getting out

2.  Dropping off

3. Picking Up

I got Son 1 aged 4 to the New Nursery on time.  This is a Good Thing.  It involved, several days ago,  booking Son 2 aged 1 into the Old Nursery early.  Then we had to get out of the house.  I am trying so hard not to chivvy Son 1 because I don’t want him feeling stressed about going to the New Nursery.  And, like his father, under pressure he g-o-e-s i-n-t-o v-e-r-y s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n while I zizz around like a bluebottle on speed.  So when, having strapped Son 2 into his car seat, Son 1 stood on the pavement and said “I want a poo,” I did not take it well.

Poor Son 2 was the first into Nursery.  However.  Wonder Nanny can soon work for us four days a week, so I don’t need to worry about the look of betrayed grief in his eyes when he sees I am going.  I’m trying to keep things easy for him because I want to stop feeding him.  Hopefully, today’s will be his last morning feed.  I will give it a go with just the beaker tomorrow.  So at night it’s me or The Man lying beside him on the bed and edging him into the cot if we can…  and in the day he just clings and clings.  I know I’ll be sad in a way when I stop, because I’ll never feed another child.  But I know I am very ready indeed to Move On.. 

I promised Son 1 a bow and arrow if Mummy Got A Nice School Photo.  And he did the job.  Dazzling smile.  So off to the wooden toy shop I went in my break.  No bows and arrows left.  When I picked Son 1 up he came running back across the playground “Where’s my bow and arrow?”  Ah.  Pretty inconsolable.  Son 1’s tears only stopped when he looked at the TK Maxx presents I’ve bought for the party/visit this weekend.  He ran his fingers over the mini-Bratz doll and pink accessories.  “I’ve wanted one of these for a very long time.”   Son 2 was the last-but-one child left at the Old Nursery. Pang.