1.   Flats

2.   Steps

3.   Short Cuts

In the last 62 hours I have had 8 hours’ total sleep. I  have travelled more than 1000 miles.   I have had a puncture at 80mph in the outside lane of a motorway.  I have had my roots done.  I told you there is Always A Good Thing.  No idea where to begin.  A long trip for the Office, which I did by car because it’s the fastest way to get about the UK.  If you count your time in the numbers of breakfasts and bedtimes missed with small people you cannot go by train or fly.  It just takes too bloody long.  My colleague drove us back to The City.  A very long way from home indeed, there was a loud, horrible clacking noise.  Captain Sullenberger steered us across two lanes of traffic to come to a smoking, stinking halt on the hard shoulder.  Trucks the size of car ferries whizzed by feet from us.  We scrambled up the freezing embankment and took refuge on the side of a gantry for the junction far away.  I was in a black linen frock and 3 inch heels.  I went back to the car to put out the red triangle. And to burrow in the boot for a pair of sensible shoes. 

Wheels sorted and more than two hours added to the trip, we motored back through roadworks, traffic queues, rain, wind and spray.  We realised I wasn’t going to make it back home, and I checked into a hotel at 1am this morning. Crashed out, got up again at 5 and headed back. It was 0645 when I drew up outside The House. The lights were on downstairs.  The Man was in the kitchen, dressed. He put the kettle on.  Son 1 aged 5y 4m and Son 2 aged 2y 4m were upstairs watching telly.  “Mummee!  Mummeee! I’s coming!”   Little Son 2, sweet and smiling.  Son 1 not far behind, hanging back, curled up on the stair in his playing-hard-to-get pose. He suddenly sprang up.  “Can I look in your bag?”  There is always the chance of a present.

I had today off, but still needed to go into The Office. And then a visit to Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser.  LGH knows everything. The going rate for the Tooth Fairy (Son 1 thinks he has a wobbly tooth.) Whether I should be compulsively blagging party places for Son 2 for every invitation Son 1 has (she says she blags places for children she has staying with her as well.)  How to beat the School Run traffic with a secret shortcut.   i collected Son 1. At home both boys were exhausted.  I dished out presents. ELC fish for Son 2. “I go bed now. I wan’ my barf.”  Ben 10 Lego for Son 1. They were in bed and asleep at 1930.   I will go up as soon as I can heave myself off this sofa.

1.  Green Shoots

2.  Retail Results

3.  The Great Crash

We were so late to School yesterday that I resolved today we would be Up and Out even earlier. Sort of.  We left on tim.  Success in prising Son 1 age 5y 3m from the house: “The flight to the Big Town is leaving now! Will all passengers with tickets for the Big Town please proceed to the boarding gate!” Son 1 came haring down the stairs, closely followed by Son 2 aged 2y 4m “I got ticket! I got ticket!” We kissed Son 2 goodbye and went out into the gloom. 10C said the dashboard. That’s more like it. “Yellow car!” yelled Son 1. At last we had time to park up the Muddy Path.  We skipped, hopped and dodged towards the School. And there, just by the road to the old building site, four or five clumps of tightly-packed, inch-high daffodil leaves. 

An Office Trade Show. I did three hours on my feet. You’d think I’d learn.  Standing in heels again. Never wanted to. What am I to do. I can’t help it.  Dropping with fatigue, I left early, and got to School just after 5pm. Still light. All the way in, all the way out.  This is no thaw. This is Spring.  Son 1 and I went to Tesco for a Big Shop.  I’d bought him a little velvety drawing thing and pens to keep him occupied, and he sat in the trolley seat colouring.  Till he got pins and needles, because he’s about three years too old for it.  We bought marked-down Peppa Pig pants for Son 2 - one day I might get round to potty training him - and vests and marked-down pyjamas for Son 1.  He was exhausted, his little face pale and his eyes tired.  He kept lying down on the shop floor.  He was also hungry. He had a gingerbread man.. and then, in the queue, a strawberry yoghurt drink thing.   He was a saint.

He fell asleep in the car on the way home.  I double-parked and heaved bag after bag of shopping in. The Man appeared in the open doorway. “Son 2’s in the bath!” he yelled, and vanished. I finished unloading the car, carried a fretful Son 1 inside and drove off to park. No spaces on the first lap. I was about to pass The House again when I saw a little figure in the bay window.  I double-parked again. Son 2, waving, blowing kisses, giggling madly. I went inside and told The Man to park the car. Son 2 trashed the shopping, and scored a melting jellytot floppy lolly and his Peppa Pig pants. “Me take my nappy off,” he said, pulling at his PJ trousers. “Not tonight, we’ll try them tomorrow.” He looked me in the eye. “Me take my nappy off.”  Rather than have He Take His Nappy Off, I put the pants on over his pyjamas. He was delighted.  “Me show Son Son.” And off he cantered.  I followed him up to the bathroom, where he had emptied the entire pants packet. “I don’ wan’ wear my nappy.”  Tough luck kid, I just bought a box of size 5.  Bedtime was overlong and bad-tempered.  Afterwards The Man and I compared elbows.  i fell over in the ice last week, and my right elbow is completely black. The Man fell down the stairs last night - do not leave folded jeans on the last-but-three stair because if anyone treads on them in the dark they act like a little one-foot sledge.  The Man is a Big Boy, and fell very heavily. He doesn’t have a bruise, but his arm is swollen.  Being Positive, at least it wasn’t me who left the jeans on the stairs…

1. When It Snows, Ain’t It Thrilling?

2.  Though Your Nose Gets A Chilling

3.  We’ll Frolic And Play, The Eskimo Way

Thursdays are very busy at The Office, so I don’t usually blog.  However.  Too many adventures today not to.  We started off like yesterday, gathering round the radio in our pyjamas to see if Son 1’s school was open. Son 1 aged 5y 3m and Son 2 aged 2y 3m sang and screeched and shouted everytime we hissed “Sshhhh!”  Nope. Not on the list.  I went for my shower… The Man coaxed Son 1 into his uniform. He went outside to start the long and tedious process of getting the car out of the frost and ice.  In we went.  I stopped off for fuel, feeling it wasn’t the day to play my usual “I wonder how far it will go with the orange light on” roulette.  Little specks of snow fell as I filled up. By the time I pulled out of the garage, the specks were the size of cornflakes… then of 50ps, and then one wipe of the windscreen didn’t clear it before the next lot blotted out visibility. What A Difference A Child Makes, I wrote, nearly a year ago. I was simply not going to drive in thick sticking snow with a child in the car, so I turned round at the next roundabout and went back home.  It got worse and worse.  Son 1 chattered loudly, incessantly. “Son 1,  please be quiet, this is very difficult and Mummy really needs to think.” Son 1’s moods are linked to mine as surely as if we’d never ditched that Cord.  I’d made him nervous, so the chat got louder and more insistent. 400 yards from home, my mobile rang on the passenger seat beside me. “That’ll be Daddy trying to tell me to turn back,” I said. We pulled up outside The House.  The Man came out. “Good call.” I just rang you to tell you to come back.  Son 1 danced on the pavement and caught snowflakes in his insect gloves.

The snow stopped, the sun shone. Only make essential journeys, the police said on the radio. i put an overnight bag and my packed lunch in the boot, The Man drove me back to the Main Road, and off I went again. Jaysus what was I thinking. (Sh. To be honest, I secretly know what I was thinking. “If I’m going to get snowed in, I’d rather be at The Office than At Home.”  Don’t tell anyone. )  Two miles out, round a roundabout and then downhill on ice for more than a mile. I was in first gear in a slow snake of traffic.  We were all crawling, we were all suffering, we were well spaced.  I got on to level ground at the bottom of the Valley and the queue stopped moving.  We sat and sat and sat.  It started to snow.  Heavily.  I got out, got my briefcase out of the boot, found my phone and called The Office. “You can’t get into The Big Town, they’ve shut the road!” said my colleague. “You said you were getting the train!” “I know,” I wailed. “But it was sunny and still when I left! I thought it was over.”  I sat and sat and sat. The Man rang. “A Neighbour has rung. He set off before you, first time, and he’s just rung to say tell you he’s giving up and turning around.  He’s been stuck for two hours.” I tried calling our Neighbour.  Answerphone. Then I saw him drive past me in the opposite direction. I crawled to a roundabout and turned round.  The road was white in front of me, even with cars ahead. The snow fell too thick and fast for wipers on double speed.  It was hateful, horrible, harrowing.  Should I pull over at The Pub On The Road and wait it out? As soon as I went past I regretted not stopping. The string of cars coming down towards me were slipping, sliding and swerving. I realised it would only take one to lose it and cross over my way to wipe me out (”They’ll be all right,” I thought.)

Nearly at the top of the hill, I saw a yellow truck-like vehicle with flashing hazard lights heading across the roundabout to the by pass in the dim gloom ahead. Snow plough? Gritter? No idea, but the snow was browny, in places you could see the surface and it was a whole lot better than all the other exits.  I followed but couldn’t catch whatever it was.  I got within a mile of home, but we live at sea level; I was on the 70 mph clearway high above The Town and I just don’t know how to drive down steep hills in a blizzard on compacted ice and thick snow.  In the end I got down by doing a massive detour, slaloming in first gear, in half mile sweeps back and forth across The Town.  I cannot remember being so afraid - I couldn’t touch the brakes without losing control of the car.  My long, slow downhill route took me past The Town’s secondary school, clearly at the instant they shut it.  Teenagers were making slides in the road and tumbling across it in snowball fights. And I was chuntering towards them, in a two-tonne block of metal I had no way of stopping. I passed them, and then headed on downhill towards red traffic lights.  I stalled, skidded, grinding the handbrake, and coasted through before stopping six feet the wrong side of them.  At last I crawled along the riverside road.  Hundreds of yards from home, I saw a drive in space by the side of the road.  I switched off the engine. I was shaking. It had taken me an hour and a half to drive five miles.   Still trembling, I yomped up The Terrace back to The House. Through the snow I saw The Man walking towards me.  “He’s come to meet me because he’s realised what’s happened,” I thought. “I’m going into The Town to get something for lunch,” he said. “Do we need anything?”  I carried my own bags back to The House.

1.  False Alarm

2.  False Hope

3.  False Words

The Man needed to get up at 6am to leave on a Business Trip.  Son 1 aged 5y 2m was in the Big Bed with us. I heard The Man get up.  I got up too, thinking 0530 would give me chance to get everything ready in good time.  I padded downstairs to put the kettle on. And looked at the clock. 0245. I went back up. The Man had just headed down for the Double Bed because Son 1 was kicking him in the back and he wanted to sleep.  At 0530 proper we got up again.  The Man went off. I made lunches, cleaned, cleared up, got the boys’ breakfast out, made coffee, ate breakfast.   Not a sound from above. I put the washing machine on and had a shower.  Nothing.  I went into our bathroom, dried my hair and used my electric toothbrush. I put Milkshake telly on. Son 1 remained, still, in the Big Bed. Finally I took him up a tray with a bowl of Frosties, some strawberries and a cup of milk on it. He very slowly stirred. “Why don’t you ever do this on a Saturday or a Sunday?”  I asked. He laughed at me.

The atmosphere at The Office was grim as we heard from the Colleague whose daughter was taken so desperately ill. It’s now even worse than on Saturday.  We can think and speak of little else.  I managed to get out to get some presents for Wonder Nanny.  Photo frames, candles and chocolates.  I picked Son 1 up late, so we were way past Wonder Nanny’s leaving time when we got back. Son 2 aged 2y 3m waved from the window as I parked the car.  I had a hunt for a photo of the boys to put in one of her new picture frames. Couldn’t find the school photo pack. But I did manage to find the birthday cards. 

After Wonder Nanny had left, Son 1 got out his Hama beads.  Son 2 tried to join in, but again got frustrated and hurled beads on the floor. I went upstairs with my paper - a sure way of getting them both to come buzzing near me.  The Man is the same. “You do too much,” he says, in a critical tone. “You can’t go on like this. You have to rest.” Then if he ever catches me sitting down and reading a paper he comes up with a dozen things I ought to be doing instead.  The boys were a delight. I read to them, each had a shower and a bath, each had their teeth done and then I put them to bed. Son 2 took ages to settle. “I want my DayD,” he cried. When I at last got downstairs I found someone had picked up all the Hama beads Son 2 spilled on the floor and put them back in their tub.  Son 1, being an angel. He’s going to be so cross when he realises I’ve been doing this rather than ironing his picture.

1.  Son 1’s Party

2.  Son 2’s Party

3.  The Office Party

Hah.  Wear Your Own Clothes Day at School and we got Son 1 aged 5y 2m there in jeans and a rugby shirt. We have two previous convictions for Failing To Notice. Here’s one:    last day of term     Can’t find the other one, which completely negates the whole Capture Their Childhood part of doing the blog.  But never mind. It’s Son 2’s School Christmas Party, and the teachers were wearing fairy wings and tinsel halos. I dropped him off and then spent the day as I’ve spent the week, racing around Late For Everything. How do people do it? On Tuesday I met a brilliant woman, younger than me, just achieved a distinction in a professional qualification in a men’s field, single mother, working full time. And of course, Christmas shopping done “I do a lot online.” “I bet you make your own cakes for birthdays and school things too,” I said, again in that place where marvelling and envy mix. “Oh no.  I just make our Christmas cake and that’s it.”

Wonder Nanny took Son 2 aged 2y 3m to the Playgroup Christmas Party. There were apparently games, dancing, Christmas lunch and Santa.  His present was glitter. He is apparently noted at playgroup for having hugely enjoyed playing with glitter pens in craft sessions. I knew that. I have taken him to Church, where they do crafting for kids ahead of the service.  Son 1 and I just made it back home before Wonder Nanny left.  There was glitter all over the floor, in Son 2’s hair, on his face and on his clothes. Several very nice glitter pictures, ideal for home-made cards - were drying on the windowsill. Wonder Nanny had a piece of glitter in her nostril.  She laughed and wiped it away.

And The Office Christmas Party.  In the middle of nowhere - 47 miles on the clock to get there. I had to leave at 6pm, to Son 2 crying real tears and stretching out starfish hands: “I don’ wan’ Mummy go party. I don’ wan’ Mummy go work. I wan’ Mummy home wi’ me.”   Cheers for that Son 2. I’ll getcha later. “Mother always makes me feel so guilty at the end of my  monthly visit to Sleepy Corner Nursing Home. “  So I walked out and left him. It was a Good Do, everybody went, good food, good entertainment, and our table won the pub quiz, thanks to our detailed and contemporaneous  study of Eighties Music.

1.  Geography

2.  History

3.  Biology

I was late out of the door because we were up in the night. Son 1 aged 5y 1m was hot, thirsty, uncomfortable and wanted his Mummy.  On my way out I met a friend, the same age as me, with granddaughters aged four and 10 months.  Her 27 year old son went to Afghanistan a month ago. He’s still got five months to go.  Her daughter-in-law’s having a hard time with the News, the Remembrance coverage, and being on her own with the baby.  My friend aches for any contact from her son. And lives in constant dread.  

At lunchtime I went for a sandwich with another Mother, a few years older than me.  Acutely worried about her brilliant, but vulnerable 20 year old daughter. For the first time, I heard the story of the eldest child, who would have been 25 on Friday.  She died, from a chromosomal disorder, a few days before Christmas when she was 2.   “There’s a programme on tonight. I think the little girl has what she had.  She just looks the same.”  Because, 23 years later, you remember.  

Son 1 being at home gave me an extra half hour after The Office. I went for a Twilight Run.  Cold, damp, crisp and grey.  I’m still half-walking and half-running, but who cares.  I was out, in the kit, in the dark.  Back home Son 1 seemed much better, until just before bedtime, when his voice was shot and I could almost hear the wince in his eyes as he swallowed. We doubled up, again, on Calpol and Ibuprofen to bring his temperature down.  He had a clear mission. To get tomorrow, Mummy’s Day off, off school so we could have Adventures again like we used to.  As he wilted, The Man and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and give him the extra day, just to make sure. And Back To School on Thursday.

1.  Fed And Watered

2.  The Breezes And The Sunshine

3.  Soft, Refreshing Rain

Son 1 aged 5 and I arrived at School. It’s Harvest Festival Day.  His class, all dressed as scarecrows, is singing a song. Son 1 will pop up wearing a straw hat. I said I would try and get there. And was then told the time.  2pm.  No bloody chance.  “Are lots of parents coming?” I asked Mrs Smiley. She smiled, as she always does. “Oh yes. There’ll be a very good turn out.”  Outside the school, I rang Nanna, and Wonder Nanny. They can go. “Have we got to take something?” asked Nanna. “I’ve got strawberries.” Nope. I sent in a bag of groceries earlier in the week. I hunted high and low in the cupboards. I found two tins of Lite Evaporated Milk which were Best Before Apr 2005… and a tinned Fray Bentos steak and kidney pie so old it didn’t have a sellby date. I looked for things I wouldn’t use.  But deducing that someone getting a School food parcel would not feel too grateful for Chestnut Puree and Aubergine Pesto, I put tea, coffee, tuna, baked beans, soup and tinned tomatoes in a bag instead.  

Not the easiest day I’ve had at The Office, mainly because I did 16 hours yesterday and I’m knackered. Halfway through I remembed a snag in the Harvest Festival plan. I’d promised Son 1 an after-school trip to Tesco.  Last night Son 2 aged 2y 1m had done some blackbelt tantrumming because I wasn’t there… and Son 1 had behaved beautifully.  Plus he’s managed to get up for School for more than 6 weeks. I rang Wonder Nanny. Can they take him to Tesco as well if he wants to go.

When I got back home Son 1 was throwing small plastic balls which transform into aliens around. Son 2 was sitting in his highchair eating strawberries and sweets, giggling. ”I wan’ si’ on Mummy’s lap.”  It was late, so we rounded the up for Books And Bath And Bed.  Maybe The Man was making up the behaviour last night. Could this shiny-cheeked cherub with dancing eyes, sitting in the shower, laughing and splashing Mummy, possibly be the roaring banshee who was put to bed without a bath, without teeth cleaning, and without anything?  Teenaged Niece bought the boys new pyjamas. Son 1 was dashing in bright red Lightning McQueen, Son 2 in oversized bright green Buzz Lightyear. Another Good Thing: Son 2 seems to be getting a bit bigger.  If it carries on he may even get into 12- 18m trousers…

1.   Hoarse

2.   Croaking

3.   Rasping

I’ve got a throat infection from somewhere. Voice has gone, feeling hot and bothered and sleepy. Hey ho. I spent today travelling back after a night away because of an Office Thing yesterday.  I was with three colleagues, so I didn’t have to drive. We spent hundreds of miles talking, eating sherbert lemons and ringing our mates. I was aiming at a 3.15pm appointment at Son 1 aged 5’s School - the replacement appointment for the Parents’ evening I can’t make.  I got to the School in time, and then got stuck in the queue of cars waiting to go in. Another advantage to being  a Working Mother. You have genuinuely no idea what happens at the end of the school day.

Mrs Smiley the Teacher was lovely. Happy with Son 1’s reading, maths, communication, It, arts and crafts and PE.  He is Popular And Has Lots Of Friends. A bit of a discussion about how sometimes he seems dreamy, unresponsive and slow to respond. Not as smiley on some days.  How’s his sleeping? Does he share a room with Son 2?  Ah, I croaked. We have had rather a mad Birthday Fest September.  He could be… er.. knackered. “Well I wouldn’t of course say that…” she said. Subtext: That’s Exactly What I Mean.   Poor old Son 1. And then of course I forgot to mention the midnight bed-hopping. “What is the first thing in your head when you wake up at night?” I asked once, wondering if he was having bad dreams. “I think: ‘I’ll go and find Mummy,’” he said. 

Son 1 was excited because he’s completed his third sticker chart. As we drove back I asked him how he’d  got on that morning with Granny and Daddy when I was away. “Don’t know.”  “Was it brilliant, all right, or Truly Terrible.” “Truly Terrible.” “What about last night?”  “That was Truly Terrible too.” Son 2 aged 2 was delighted to see me, and then wouldn’t let go.  Neither he nor Son 1 like my creature-from-the-black-lagoon voice.  Granny had made them individual cottage pies for tea, and they did all right.    Nanna rang. Teenaged Niece is staying for a College Open Day. Can we see them tomorrow. We are taking Granny back to the Airport, but we will try, I said.

1.  Howlround

2.  Clash

3.  Bump

Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht. Alles schlaft. Until Son 2 aged 2 started SHOUTING FOR MUMMY. I sprang out of bed to get to him before he woke Son 1 aged 5, sleeping next to him, scooped him up and put him in the Double Bed between The Man and me.  Granny is in the Big Bed upstairs, and The Man and I are next to the boys. I checked the time on a clock downstairs.  4am. The little beggar.  He tossed and turned and wriggled and writhed. At 0445 I gave up and got up. On the Bright Side. I copied dates from 2009 into the 2010 calendar. I cleared out the mess in my bag. I paid a bill which had been outstanding forever. I ordered school photos. I made the lunches.

Son 2 wasn’t impressed with being left at home, Son 1 was Perfect Child. A long drive in this morning because of the rain. I dropped him off and had another Hard Day At The Office.  I have muddled up Son 1’s Parents’ Evening. I thought it was today, which I could have left early for.  It isn’t. It’s next Tuesday, and already my whole day is jam-packed.  The Man will have to go without me.  Bright side: I bought a new dress from TK Maxx.  There is an Important Office Do on Thursday night.  I took it round to the Godmother for a second opinion. She approved, and provided pashmina and handbag.

When I got home, Son 2 chortled, giggled and clung.   Both boys were excited… there were two plastic bags resting on top of the water in the Fish Tank. Granny has bought four more fish.  Son 1 has carefully considered, and named them Fluffy, Floppy, Zizzy and Sulky.  Friends for Flossy and Coupon.  An instant shoal.  They seem to be getting on ok.   In Son 1’s bag there was an apologetic note from his class teacher. We can’t have the time we asked for his Parents’ Evening appointment. She’s happy to do another day and time if it would be more convenient. Oh all right then.   As you’re unable to fit us in, we’ll re-schedule.  No, no, don’t mention it, we don’t mind at all.

1.  Travelling

2.  Leaving

3.  Arriving

Today was an 18-hour day. Everyone in bed when I left. EVeryone in bed when I returned.  Fortunately Son 1 aged 4y 11m had crept into bed with us during the night. So I did get a bit of contact with him.    I had some Office work to do Miles Away and was out of the house at 0530, struggling with the Sat Nav.  The trip up was ok, apart from the bit where I got there. As always, the Sat Nav got me within 500 yards of my destination and then just seemed to give up.  Turn Right On Such And Such Road it said, as I sped along.  0 miles to the next turning. 

I set off for home at 1630 and had a long, hard trip back. Roadworks… Friday evening traffic…  I queued on motorways for miles and miles.  I took my knee highs off as I drove along, which probably isn’t in the Highway Code.  A colleague sent me a text. His father has been rushed to hospital, gravely ill.  Not expected to survive the weekend.  Horrible, horrible.   

I got back at 2245.  Checked out Son 1’s school things - he’d clearly been swimming, and he had a little Jolly Phonics book. We have to practise Snaky Ss with him.  I have a dream in which when he can read he sits quietly in the corner with a book. Or does that only happen with girls.