1.  Spellbound

2.  The Evil Queen

3.  New Lamps For Old

And again, I couldn’t get them up.  I have decided to Be Positive and Not Take This Personally.  It is getting darker in the mornings. That is why Son 1 aged 5 and Son 2 aged 2 are struggling in the mornings. Still, it gave me time to tumble dry Son 1’s school shorts. Which he sprayed yoghurt on in the car on the way home yesterday. Bloody Frubes again. So. I was Mrs Perfect Housewife and had them cleaned, dried and ready to be worn when I finally tow-trucked him out of bed this morning. He tipped milk down them when he was having his breakfast.   

Mrs Perfect Housewife turned into Mother From Hell this afternoon.  I picked up Son 1, who was leaping and laughing because we were going to the Joke Shop in The Town to see if they have a magic kit.  A reward for coming home with Heavenly Photos.  Son 1 wants a magic wand.  I agreed, thinking he wanted one of the ones he sees at parties - rigid in the hands of the magician, floppy when the children hold it.  Since saying ‘yes’ it has slowly dawned on me that he thinks a magic wand is… er.. magic. Anyway. Outside The House. Heading for The Town.  “I want to ride in the Pram.” “Darling you’re five, you’re too big. And anyway, Son 2’s in the Pram.” “Wark.”  “No, you go in the Pram, then we can get to the shop before it closes.”  “Wark.”  “Oh all right, but you’ll have to wear your reins. And walk, Son 2, no, don’t stop to look at a feather. If you want to walk, then walk. Son 1, I cannot manage you in the Pram and Son 2 on the reins. Son 2 will you walk! Put the stone down!  If you don’t walk you’re getting in the Pram…”  So.  I stuffed Son 2 in the Big Pram “Wark! Wark!” He cried and  corkscrewed and twisted himself out. Everytime he got out, Son 1 got in. I put Son 2 back in. He screeched so loudly people on the other side of the street stopped talking to look over.  And so I marched us all home, with Son 1 crying and begging to be allowed to go to the Joke Shop. At home I stripped Son 2, put him in his sleeping bag (to stop him climbing) pulled the blinds down and shoved him in the cot. Gave Son 1 a vast chocolate bar to stop him crying and poured a large glass of white wine. 

Son 2 and I are also developing a battle of the wills over toilet training. He wants to give it a go. I have just bought 132 nappies in two big boxes. “Wee wee!” “Oh, do it in your nappy.”  “Want loo. Want pot pot.”  He did another poo in the loo this evening.  I wanted to lie on the bed reading books to him. He wanted to get up and wee in the potty every five minutes. I have run out of chocolate buttons. Which should slow the little beggar down a bit.  I got them to bed and then sorted out the recycling.  Two birthday teas, two birthdays and a huge party have passed since the last collection. We have generated mountains of cardboard, paper and bottles.  I have positioned our pile far down The Terrace. To make it easier for the recycling men to load it on the lorry, of course.

1.  Finger shadows

2.  Finger walking

3.  Finger food 

 I am comforting Son 2 aged 14m to sleep  by putting the fan on for white noise, sticking my head in the cot next to him till he drowses, then straightening up my pulverised back and kneeling down with my hand on his chest till I dare take it away, put the cot side up and tiptoe out.  This is progress from the weeks of getting him to sleep by lying next to him on a double bed, and having him in the bed with an adult overnight.  So.  He woke this morning at 0515.  The Man went down and lay next to him on the bed.  Son 2 cried and cried.  I gave in. I went down, put him in the cot and did my bent-over-the-cot-my-head-next-to-his-soft-fluffy-hair.  He went quiet.  He lay still.  And then he started making shadows on the wall of his cot by waving in front of the light from the extension lead… and making fish noises.  Which progressed to bah bah bah bah bah.  Translation: I’m really bored and I want to get up, but I can keep myself busy if you want your head like that.”  My back again made the decision and I took him downstairs for milk and a snack.  It was five to six.

We went to The Beach.  Both sets of Wednesday Friends, a gloriously mild day out of the north wind.  I’d wrapped both boys up, but they ended up just playing in sweatshirt sleeves.  Son 1 aged 4y 1m and his Friend stuck together, dug together, menaced smaller children together, raided the food together, demanded ice creams together.  Son 2 crawled and finger-walked and watched them, and watched the dogs and ransacked the food bag.  Doesn’t like peanut butter.  Spat it out.  We got coffee and tea, they got smoothies, the weather was great.

Back home Son 2 went to bed (in the cot… second time today, hooray hooray.)  Son 1banned from watching telly for squirting bubble mix in his brother’s eyes this morning, lay on the kitchen floor sticking Charlie and Lola stickers in a book.  I made a roast chicken meal.  A lovely young man came round to mend the tumble drier.  Nanna arrived.  Son 2 woke up and went nuts in the kitchen because of the cooking smell.  First The Man, and then Nanna took him outside.  We managed to sit down, all five of us at the meal table together.  Star for us in the Family Mealtime book.  Both children asleep by 7.30pm and then I went running.  That’s quite a few more than three good things.

1.  Early reading

2.  Flashing Blue Lights

3. Down In The Cot

Son 2 aged 13m started off in his cot but wailed long and loud at some time post-midnight.  I had taken a whacking slug of Night Nurse so The Man went to the rescue.  In the morning we were all up late. I felt a lot better this morning… some clear blue water now between me and death’s door.  Son 2’s started having an opinion on which books we should do in the morning.  Today’s favourite was the little Word book… pictures of things to do with The Park, The Beach, The Farm, Wild Animals etc.  I think he’s using it and other similar books like dictionaries.  He sits very still staring at the pictures and listening to the words.  And then at the end flips the pages back to his favourite ones.

In the car, Son 1 aged 4y 1m played with his flashing blue light sabre from last night.  He was late for Nursery, and clung and clung.  He wants Son 2 to go to Nursery with him.  He wants to stay at home with Wonder Nanny and Son 2.  Oh boy.    I really do think he’d be bored at home, but maybe the New Nursery is just too far and too school-like.  The Office was, as usual, like stepping inside a mad computer game where for every one thing you successfully swat, three more leer up laughing.  For nine hours.  I staggered out, got into the car and drove home, remembering this time to put my headlights on.  A blue flashing light followed me for many miles.  Till I realised Son 1’s light sabre had bumped itself on in the rear passenger footwell.  

The Tumble Drier man came while I was at The Office.  It’s mended, hooray.  And Wonder Nanny made muffins and minestrone soup while Son 2 was sleeping.   Son 2 was being bathed when I got back.  Son 1 was playing with a Pirate spotting book I bought from an Usbourne woman’s stall.  I cuddled Son 2, sang him his lullaby, gave him his milk and PUT HIM DOWN IN HIS COT hooray hooray.  Much excitement.  I can’t remember the last time I put him to sleep in his cot - not since well before I stopped feeding him.  I gave up at the point where I just couldn’t feed him to sleep any more, so it must be a couple of months.  He woke up once just as I’d finished with Son 1, and he yelled and yelled so I had to start again with him.  But he’s been sleeping there quietly so far for the rest of the evening so far…