1.  You Arrive And The Night Is Alive

2.   These Are The Days

3.   Dark, Divine Intervention 

I wanted to stay in bed. “Up,” said Son 2 aged 2. “Up,” said Son 1 aged 5. I consider anything after 7.30am a bonus. But the boys were crabby and cantankerous. Son 2, as usual, wanted breakfast, and then wanted to lie in front of the telly with his face on the floor. Son 1 wanted to fall out with everything.  The Boat, we felt, not liking the idea of a day at home with over-tired, horrible children just wanting to watch telly and sleep.  We packed up and had a text from friends saying they were taking their boat out with a barbie. So I defrosted some yellow-sticker burgers in their honour. The Man picked us up from the quayside in a dinghy. A beautiful day, with flat water, light winds, scores and scores of yachts, kayaks, cruisers, powerboats, racers, fishing boats… all out pootling.   We pootled off to Lighthouse Beach and anchored off it.  The mother arrived with two small girls in a powerboat, and moored against ours. Maybe I should learn about boats. She looked quite cool zooming up. The girls came aboard, and Mother zoomed off to get Father.

We went ashore in their boat. Lighthouse Beach is only accessible by water or a couple of sheer Amalfi-style zigzag paths.  The bay was busy, the beach less so.  Golden sand, turquoise water, great walls of cliffs with water dripping down them to form pirate caves.  Son 1 was in raptures, Son 2 wanted to stay close to me. Son 2 and I dug, Son 1 rolled around in the beach tent. Other families arrived. I went for a swim in the sea. It was heaven. The best one this year. I think. Can’t really remember and I haven’t got time to look back at this blog.  The water was, as usual, blood-thickeningly cold… but it was still, no current, no rocks, no wind.  I swam up and down, keeping an eye out to make sure all the boats heading for the beach had seen me. Son 1 came down to the shore so I went in. We played in some caves liberated by the outgoing tide… and then we went rockpooling on the ohter side of the beach.  The reason children can skit about on razor-sharp rocks is because they weigh nothing. For the more traditionally-built, like me, walking on upended layers of granite hurts.   Back with the others Son 2 changed into his tiger robe, lay face down on a yoga pillow I’d bought with us Just In Case, and went to sleep.

Son 1 was engrossed with the other children, so I got to wander along the shoreline in the low, September-solstice sunshine, picking at the shells and looking for a stone big enough to Bash A Fish with.  The sea hush-hushed in the background. And then suddenly the golden sunshine vanished and the sky was filled with low, dark clouds. We idly packed up and headed back to our boats. Son 1 was a nightmare all the way back. Crying because he’s tired.  It was gone nine by the time we got them to bed.  They will so not be able to get up tomorrow morning.

1.  Sardines

2.  Flounder

3.  Shark

So. After yesterday’s triathlon, what sort of a lie in do you think our perfect children game us? 6am.  Little Baskets.  We put them in the Double Bed with us.  Son 2 aged 2 tried pestering The Man. Didn’t work. Tried pestering me. Didn’t work. Reached over me to bat at Son 1 aged 4 y 11m.  Giggles to the left.  Giggles to the right. “Sweets,” said Son 2. ”Son 2, are you hungry?” “Es.” “Do you want your breakfast?”  “Es.”  Son 2 ate nothing but peas-in-the-pod and biscuits yesterday afternoon.  They promised they’d have a sleep during the day. 

The weather was fine, the water was flat.  We knew we were for it if we stayed in.  We rang round for reinforcements for a Boat Trip.   A Wednesday Mum and her family came. We packed leftover quiche and chocolate cake.  We went to the Yacht Club. The Man brought The Boat into the quay.  We chugged around, fishing.  The Wednesday Mum had a real, live fish on the end of her line. It Got Away.  And then… she, Retired Army Captain husband and The Man started catching fish. RACH took them off the line… And he’d brought a large stone with him.  For killing the fish with a blow to the head. At first, he did it. Then, his son, Five Year Old Friend, did it. And then, Son 1.   I watched him do it.  He’s killed a living creature before he’s five. Forty years older, I still haven’t.  I can clean and gut a fish, and always enjoy meat-eaters’ squeamishness when they see my matter-of-fact technique. But I have no idea whether or not I could kill a crittur.  I just felt as Son 1 lives on The River, he should be able to catch a mackerel.  And put it out of its misery.  He walked round clutching the stone.  “Anyone want to bash a fish?”

Total catch: 10 mackerel and 21 crabs. The crabs went back in the river.  Back home, we wrapped up four fish in greaseproof paper and hung them in a bag on the neighbours’ front door. She told Son 1 that if he ever caught any mackerel, she’d buy them from him. He was heartbroken when she wasn’t in. The Man lit a barbecue, I made new potatoes and broccoli, and we barbecued the two fish we’d kept. The Man wasn’t sure, but I told him he had to eat them to Be A Good Example For The Boys. Son 1 wouldn’t. Sucked a few bits in his mouth, but that was it. Son 2 wolfed it. We had just started to suspect Son 2 may have been a fish in a previous life.  It would explain the unswerveable fascination with both fish and wah-wah.   From the way he gobbled the mackerel, he must, of course,  have been a Big Fish.

1.  Round Turn And Two Half Hitches

2.  Bowlines

3.  Splicing The Mainbrace

A glorious day, and we took The Boat out for a crabbing trip.  Oh ok then, we took The Boat out because both Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 2 were so knackered that they were almost certain to fall asleep with the drone of the engine.  It worked perfectly.  They scoffed the frozen Frubes and ice pops I’d put in a flask with some ice cubes for lollies… they each had a sandwich, and Son 1 was already lying down in the cabin. I bribed them of course. “Boys who have a sleep on The Boat can have some chocolate when they wake up.”  Zzzzzzzzzz.  I really did mean to have a go at steering it, but ended up sitting out back in a fold-up chair reading the Sunday supplements, The Man was Captain Seadog at the helm, spotting jellyfish, a line out the back for any fish capable of doing 5 knots.   The sea was turquoise and the coastline was a dazzling green.  We motored a couple of miles round into The Bay.  “We did say we’d moor up and have ice creams,” I reminded The Man.  He headed back Up River.  “The batteries needed a spin anyway.”

We reached a Yacht Harbour and moored on a pontoon.  “I can climb off on my own!” insisted Son 1. He wanted to tie us up and to untie us.  He wanted to play with the fenders, trying to yank them out at just the point a 24 foot boat could crush a Little Boy Arm against the concrete.  He never seems quite so keen to help out and learn at home. Son 2 was just as bad, wanted to walk without his reins and without holding my hand. “You walk on your reins or I pick you up,” I said. He walked on his reins. Son 1 chose a Twister, Son 2 chose a chocolate Mini Milk.  I was reminded of why I only ever let Son 1 have strawberry or vanilla. We went into a Chandlery. Sticky fidget fingers were everywhere and into everything.   On the pontoon, we put out some crab lines. A slow start, but we got 20, with Son 1 as usual doing the hauling in, netting and tipping out into the buckets.  “And me! And me!” said Son 2, walking all the lines together with his fat little legs. A Business Acquaintance of The Man’s came and sat on The Boat.  We all had a beer and basked in the sun.

Back home, Son 1 wanted another picnic.  “Which do you want, to watch telly or have a picnic?” “A picnic! With my Peter Pan flags!”  The Man, Son 1 and Son 2 went out to hand out skulls and crossbones, and Peter Pan bunting.  ”Tay Bears!” called Son 2. “Tay Bears.” The big bag full of cuddly toys came down. I made steak and chips from scratch in half an hour flat.  Son 1 still won’t eat oven chips or stringy chips. Doesn’t like them. Not as nice as Mummy’s. Which, girls, are made by putting a baking tray coated with olive oil into a mark 7 oven, cutting potatoes into chips, microwaving them for seven minutes (with a shake up half way,) drying them off and then coating them in the hot oil from the tray and shoving then in the top of the oven for 10 - 15 minutes to brown off.  Outside on the ground the Captain Hook table cloth was screwed up and the teddies were everywhere.     The boys wanted to eat their meals sitting down with the teddies. We let them. After, they played a kick/hit the balloons game with two of Son 2’s birthday balloons and The Man. The sound of their giggles, shrieks and laughter rang out.  “Son 1, you’re so tired,” said The Man, after Son 1 missed and fell again. He sprang up:”I’m not tired, I’m just happy.”

1.  Swimming By Dozens

2.  A Nine Turtle Stack

3.  The King Of The Pond

A very tired Son 1 aged 4y 11m was in bed with me when I woke. No idea when he arrived.  We had a vague plan to start getting the fish tank ready for fish. But a friend texted… partner working and in the market for a trip. We decided crabbing on The Boat. The Man went down to the shops to get picnic stuff. Son 1 watched telly. Son 2 aged 23m came in the shower with me. He’s grrrr-reat.

We chugged for about 45 minutes, then The Man anchored and we got out the crab lines. Our Friend had brought with a vast pile of saved washing tablet net bags. “I knew they’d come in handy one day,” she said. They are just the best thing for crabbing. You fill them with bacon, add a stone, chuck it overboard and wait.   We caught 61 crabs. Son 1 was fab, he’s so confident now, he was hauling them in, catching them in his net and plopping them in the buckets without any adult help.  Son 2 was weeping with frustration because Son 1 wouldn’t let him hold a net with crabs in.  Poor little titch.  Living with us has taught him that he’ll always be left out and treated like a baby, and he’s responded by barging into everything without caring if he’s physically big enough to Have A Go.  In the end he got so tired we had to put the engine on to get him to sleep. Which meant emptying out the crabs.  Hmmm. We had our 60+ crabs in four  beach buckets. The ones at the bottom of the pile did not look happy.  I think we re-created Yertle The Turtle.  In my role as official animal welfare inspector I think next time we need either bigger buckets or fewer crabs.

Both boys fell asleep in the cabin on the way back, and Little Friend eventually passed out in his mother’s arms.   Back on the mooring, The Man switched the engine off.  Son 2 woke instantly and sprang into action.  The other mother couldn’t believe it. Happens every time, we told her. Back home, the boys were tired, we were tired, but Son 1 was determined to Wash Gravel to prepare the Fish Tank.  “I’ll make the tea,” said The Man. “You wash the gravel with them.”  “No, no, it’s ok,” I said. “I’ll make the tea, you wash the gravel.”  Son 2 insisted on being involved. I listened to the sounds of a bucket of gravel getting washed in the back sink.  “Son 2!” “No, Son 2!” “No!” The Man was more patient that I’d've been.  They both ate their stir fry, with Son 1 proclaiming:”This is the best chicken I ever tasted.”  Farm shop chicken, ridiculously expensive.  He can spot the bad stuff at 20 paces too.

1.   True Love

2.   Little One

3.   A Swell Party

Son 2 aged 23m has a hacking cough. Son 1 aged 4y 11m is sneezing and coughing.  I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.  It’s the end of August, and because The Man has spent the summer re-fitting and painting and sanding we’ve only been out on The Boat twice. The forecast was so-so, and worse for tomorrow.  The Boat it was.  Son 1 and The Man went off to get the dinghy ready. Son 2 ran after them, a sandal in each hand, “and me!” and sobbed when they left without him.  I put him outside in the yard on the astroturf, naked,  with a bowl of warm soapy water, some washing powder jugs and two beach buckets.  I started on the sandwiches.  Son 2 toddled back in carrying the empty bowl.  “More wah wah!”  “Who tipped out the last bowl?” I asked. “Me!”  Off he went.  I carried on.  He came back in twice more for water.  I chopped vegetables. Then he came back in and pawed at his clothes. “Dest.” “You want to get dressed?”  “Yes peez.” And then “Pooo.” He pointed to the yard. There, on the sodden, soap-soaked astroturf, was a damp, squashed poo. 

Son 2 was hard work. Clingy, insistent, tearful.  He also kept falling over.  The Man and Son 1 came back and we went down to the Yacht Club.  Son 1 and Son 2 played races on the lawn. “Ready… Steady… Go!” yelled Son 1 as they pelted across it. Son 2 was still falling over.  “Try ‘Ready, Steady, Lie Down.’” I said.  “Ready, Steady, Sleep!” called Son 1, and they both fell down. In lifejackets. Stuck on their backs like upended tortoises. 

So we took the baby with his fluey cold and balance problems and put him on a motor boat in a heavy swell.  He fell over. In the cabin. Bump on the forehead. He fell over on the deck.  Bump on the forehead.  We had lunch, and then bribed the boys. If they went to sleep they could have a sweet when they woke up. They both slept.  I read the paper, The Man and I drank coffee.  When they woke up we caught crabs. The world-record for Biggest One Yet.  Barely fit in the bucket.  Son 1 was a stroppy, screeching pain all the way back. I did not cope well.  I think that’s Three Down, and The Man in charge.

1.  Secret Screams

2.  Secret Pictures

3.  Secret Peace

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has escaped Night Terrors. Other Mums have sat there with their screaming, staring children, sleeping spookily bolt upright in bed as they yelled and yelled.  Not Son 1. Until we put Son 2 aged 21m in with him.  And lo.  Last night.  Shouts and screams, loud enough to wake The Terrace.  While sound asleep.  Son 2 - who can be woken by an eyeblink  - slept through it. 

Wonder Nanny has an eye problem, so we were on our own today.  The children were worn out, so we aimed at a Boat Trip, the idea being, as usual, that the chug of the Little Fishing Boat engine would White Noise the lads off to sleep. And The Man and I would get Peace And Quiet.  Son 1 didn’t want to go on The Boat.  Son 1 had seen Mr Maker doing secret pictures.  White wax crayons, biscuit cutters and ink.  He was busting.  We left Son 2 playing with water (”Wa Wa. Wa Wa.”) in the garden while we quickly made the secret pictures. I crayoned. Son 1 inked.  He loved the results.

Son 2 saw some choc rolls going into the picnic bag.  “Choc choc. Choc choc.” He pushed a little green chair across the kitchen, stood up and pulled the picnic bag off. It fell on his head, and knocked him off the chair. He landed on his bag on the floor with the picnic bag on top of him.  Both boys dived for lunch as soon as we got out on The Boat.  I’d forgotten the suntan lotion, which ruled out the beach as an option.  We chugged along the river instead. Son 2 eventually went to sleep. Son 1 didn’t. He painted in the cabin. The Man and I drank coffee. ”Is there any hot chocolate for children?” asked Son 1. Good point. We’ll get some.  The river is wide and peaceful, greenly wooded on each side below great expanses of sky.  Like swimming in the sea, it helps.

1. Lazybones

2.  Young Bones

3.  Old Bones

A lie in till 8am… mainly because I worked so late last night I couldn’t get up. Not even for Son 2 aged 21m’s “Mummeeee!”  “Mummmeee!”s.  A Day Off.  The Man vanished off to Work. Son 2 posted blueberries in the funnel of his Postman Pat steam train.  We plodded around.  Son 1 aged 4y 9m had the Moon Sand out before Wonder Nanny arrived.  Son 2 wanted to play with the Moon Sand (banished, for throwing it,) write with a pen (mainly left handed but still swapping to the right to keep us guessing) watch the Bin Men (”Up me! Up me!”) and play outside.  Son 1 watched Cars.

We took The Boat out. As soon as we got aboard, Son 1 scoffed all his cheese and marmite sandwiches while Son 2 ate hummous and pepper.  Wonder Nanny and I hovered around him all the way so he didn’t hurt himself. We had our first chat and took our eyes off him. He went running to find Son 1, fell over and cut his chin.  We anchored at Two Pirate Cave Bay. The tide was so high the caves were full.  I got in the dinghy with the boys.  Wonder Nanny, in her bikini and belly button stud, dived off The Boat and swam to the shore. The beach was shingle, with sheer cliffs heading 200 yards up, covered in greens and white flowers.  There was boat debris on the highest water marks.   We coaxed Son 1 and Son 2 down from the rocks. “Cave!” said Son 2.  

I swam in the sea, taking forever to get in, but invigorated once I was in and moving. The water was dark green today, with patches of turquoise near the shore.  I swam to The Boat just to prove I could, and then across to a big rock near the entrance to the Two Caves.  I went in one, and then went back for Son 1 and carried him round. He was in Pirate Captain heaven. “Dig for treasure, me hearties!” “Dig till you find it!”  Son 2 cried “Cold! Cold” and we put the tent up to give him a bit of warmth. He ate more.  Wonder Nanny had us all looking for Sea Glass - bits of broken glass polished round and smooth. We found greens and browns and blues.  Son 1 wasn’t that interested, but I could see PIrate Treasure potential in a good collection.    Son 1 found a twisted, dessicated tree root. “A dinosaur bone!” “Yes, it’s just like a dinosaur bone, like a foot, but it’s a tree branch that looks like  a dinosaur bone.” “No, it’s a dinosaur bone, look, it doesn’t break when I smash it.”  A great shoal of shrimp was feeding near the rocks at the water’s edge. I netted 12, and Son 2 sat, fascinated, staring at them in our yellow plastic bucket.  BAck on the boat, we had everything. “Where’s my dinosaur bone?”  The dinghy went back to get it.

1.  All Aboard

2.  Swimming With A Seal

3.  The First Round

The better forecast of the two days, so we decided to get on The Boat.  The Man warned that all The Boat was good for was travelling, because he’s ripped the cabin out so there’s nothing inside. We aimed at a barbecue.  We were up late, the boys were fractious, The MAn and I were snappy. We could probably all have done with a quiet day in. But a sunny day was on offer… so we invited two friends and their three year old. Last time we went on The Boat, Son 2 aged 21 m had to be carried down to the Yacht Club. Today I asked him, in his sun hat and lifejacket, if he wanted to be carried or walk. “Wor,” he said, and off he went.   The Boat was in a terrible state. Fibre glass strands and bird dung everywhere.. little bits of splinter-sized wood chippings, pieces of plastic and steel.   We swept up and fed the boys fruit while we waited for The Man and Other Dad to arrive in the dinghy.

Just a middle aged couple and their large dog were on The Beach By The Lighthouse when we turned up. Son 1 and 3 year old were in raptures, Son 2 splashed, sat and dug.  The Man barbied sausages. The big boys played pirates in the caves. Other boats turned up, other dinghies ended up on the beach. It was  heaven.  Incredibly hot.  I swam in the sea.  Absolutely freezing. Coldest yet. I swam out to The Boat, the waves slopping me in the face if I mis-timed them. Turquoise water, golden sand, not another soul in the sea.  Except one shiny, sleek-headed seal, about 50 yards away, watching me in a horribly human way. I wasn’t sure about Swimming With Seals. They are very large, their teeth are big, their breath is rank and I didn’t fancy being goosed from below by a fast-moving two-tonne sea beast. 

Son 2 was getting less and less able to cope, and more and more clingy. The MAn took us back to The Boat, where son 2 refused to go to sleep.  There were portholes to look through… and bits to pull off the walls.  Back at the Yacht Club, more friends were having a drink. I cannot resist the longer evenings, so although I knew Son 2 would make us suffer… I thought we might get away with it.  Son 1 sat on a bar stool with a two-pound coin and asked for two orange juices with straws.  The children ran round. Smack. Son 1 pushed Son 2 over. His nose started to bleed.  Two drinks later, we brought them home, like Good Parents.

1.  A Coating

2.  Paintwork

3.  Varnish

0030.  Crying from downstairs. Wailing. I was barely out of bed before: “Mummeeeee!”  Son 1 aged 4y 7m, at the bottom of the stairs, two small splats of sick on the carpet. ”I want a shower!” “You’re all right, let’s get you to the loo.”  He cried.  I mopped him up and he flopped on the floor.  I sent him up to The Man and cleared up the landing carpet.  Then I went into his room to check the bed.  Which was fine.  There was a massive splat on the floor though, with splash marks up the wall.  I cleared that up.  I went upstairs to get Son 1 out of the Big Bed - hard if he was ill again. “Has someone been sick?” asked The Man, blearily.  Son 1 didn’t want to move, so I hoisted him up to carry him back downstairs.  He was sick over me.  We cleaned him up, cleaned me up, cleaned his teeth and went to bed in his room. 

All three of us Gastro Bug victims started the day with stewed apple and banana.    Son 2 aged 19m was weak, fed up and was happy only when he was either sitting on my knee or being held against my shoulder.  Son 1 was on better form, but clearly still wasn’t that well.  The Man wanted to check The Boat, so we put Son 2 in the Big Pram, and Son 1 in the buggy and pushed them through The Town.  The Boat is a sturdy little fishing tub, but is looking sorry for itself.  Rusting and flaking, needs a lot of paint, a mooring rope fraying…  The Man switched on the engine and the pump.  Son 1 and Son 2 pulled off bits of paint and splinters and threw them overboard.  If we’d have left them long enough they’d have chucked the whole boat in the river, one flake at a time.

Son 1 wanted Pizza Express, so we gave it a go.  He ate most of a child’s margarita pizza, Son 2 ate two slices.  They ate dough balls. Son 2 ate asparagus from my pizza.  Son 1 had ice cream.  It was ok - apart from Son 2 climbing out of his highchair with broken straps and clambering across on to my knee.  We got out without incident.  Son 2 was dropping with tiredness, and cried and cried nearly all the way home. When we got back I left him in The Pram and painted my toenails.   This is an Excellent Thing.  BC I would never have had bare toenails.   Even at 7 months pregnant, The Man was painting them for me.  And post-Caesarian, my first Recovery Milestone was when I slapped on the nail polish.  But in my new incarnation as Working Mother With 2 Small Children, I just couldn’t do it.  Now I have new TK Maxx open-toed sandals, and orange toenails.  I am Back.

1.  Back to The Beach

2. Back in The Sea

3. Back to Nature

Flat water, boats pointing upriver, a little hazy mist with a sunshape seeping through. = The Boat.   We rang the friends with the 2.75 year old.  The Beach by the Lighthouse again. According to Little Friend’s Mum, this is called Conception Cove.  More to do with late-teen sex with rich girls arriving in Daddys’ borrowed power boats than anything mystical and fertility-related.  There were one or two boats there when we got there… and 16 when we left.  Sailboats and motor cruisers, fishing tubs like ours,  little plastic speedboats and big clanking yachts.  Son 2 aged 1 just wanted to get stuck into the sand.  Son 1 aged 4 and Little Friend fought with toy swords, explored, beat back the waves with seaweed sticks and ran round the beach tent when I said “Don’t go near that, I don’t want sand in my beer or in Son 2’s lunch.”  The Man lit the barbie.  I clunked into my usual routine of Son 2 maintenance.  Food.  Nappy. Sunsuit, suntan lotion.  Then attempting to get him to sleep.  He was hollering with fatigue.   I walked him and down the beach until he stopped crying.  I lay down in the tent with him and he started again. The friends took the big boys to play football further down the beach.  And Son 2 passed out.

I had lunch, and then Son 2 woke up again. I went back in the tent to try to get him to go back to sleep.  Son 1 came in.  Son 2 smiled at him and the battle was lost.  I gave him to The Man and went for a swim.  Sea cold, but not as bad as Tuesday.  And harder to swim too, because of the dinghy/kayak/rowboat activity.  Launches speeding in, speedboats anchoring, tenders leaving and arriving from everywhere.  I kept close to the rocks, figuring they’d all stay away, and swam out past the spur so I could see The Castle and the Big Yachts racing in the distance.  The sea was flat as a pool, and warm and turquoise.    With belches of diesel every now and again.    I don’t know if I want that wetsuit, I thought, this is great. But I need the sea goggles and the snorkel and the mask.  And swimming lessons so I can do crawl at sea.  I stayed in about twenty minutes, and then went back because I thought I should be playing with the children.  Son 1 was being buried by Little Friend.  He had LF’s mother’s shirt over his head.  “Where’s Son 1?” I asked. “We don’t know,” said LF’s mother.  Son 1 emerged. “Go for another swim Mummy, so we can play that again.”

We played Vanishing Boys with the tent.  Two boys in the tent. We zip up the front and say Abracadabra.  We unzip the front and the tent is empty.  And there are giggles and squeals from behind the tent, and sometimes little feet and toes still poking out the back zip.  We packed up and went for chug up one of the tributaries.  Heavenly.  Vivid, vibrant greens on the riverbanks, deep black greens in the water.  Sleek cormorants swimming and diving.  Son 2 wouldn’t sleep.  Son 1 and Little Friend ate any food going.  We had coffee, made on The Boat stove.  In a tree on the bank were eight or nine egrets, big bright white splodges against the green, perched near a heron, convenient for scale.  They flew away in a little flock.  When I came here seventeen years ago, I thought seeing a little egret was good luck, a sign I’d have a good day. Much later I realised they’re breeding here now because the planet is dying. Oops. Slight misreading of Mother Nature’s signals.