1.  Driving Away

2.  Driving Instructor

3.  Driven

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when The Man went to bed last night and then could not be settled.  The rolling around in the cot, the propping himself up, the lying down, the sighing, the wah-ing… and underpinning it all the great talent he has for lying as still as possible for long enough to convince me that he’s gone to sleep, waiting till I’ve gone and WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH.  He woke Son 1 aged 4y 2m up, he kept The Man awake, he broke my back as Yet Again I bent over the cot with my head next to his.  And in the end of course I just got fed up and left him to it.  My scientific, highly-researched I-love-you-and-I-hate-you-being-unhappy-but-I-just-have-to-sleep-now technique for problem sleepers.

And then we all got up too late to get Nursery on time.  So for the second (Nursery) morning in a row, I had to ring up and confess we’d be late.  I missed out reading to Son 2… I barely saw Son 2.  We were so late we saw Wonder Nanny.  In the car, Son 1 interrogated me about stolen cars.  I told him the story of how my car had been stolen from outside An Office, many years ago.  He promised to catch the Burglars and Kill Them.  I gently did the “we don’t talk about killing anyone, Son 1, even burglars, because killing is always wrong,” thing.  “OK. When I catch them I will kill or spray them with space goo.  Which do you want Mummy?”  I chose the space goo.   

There was an Office Business Lunch today, and the two new people I met were both runners.  One was just back from the New York Marathon, so we swapped stories about how fab it is.  The other is a triathlete, and we swapped stories about injuries.  I told the triathlete I felt guilty about spending what little time I have at home with the children on running, like I did on Sunday.  He said neither of his children is sporty, but they are both driven in their own chosen fields and he thinks it’s because they’ve watched him and his wife - a runner - work towards their events.  I was buoyed and inspired.  And then I got home, and I was tired, and it took an age to get the boys to bed, and it’s raining… And I didn’t go out for a run.

1.  Mushrooms

2.  Shopping

3.  Ten Steps

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when I went to bed at 2215 and would not go back to sleep.  I went down to him at 2230, gave him Calpol and water and did my head-in-the-cot thing till 2310.  And then at 2315 he woke again.  I’ll just leave him, I thought, and if he’s still up at 2345 I’ll go and get him.  I couldn’t get up at 2345.  See yesterday’s entry about the 0515 start.  At midnight I went down, switched his fan back on, told him he was being very naughty and had to go to sleep now.  He cried for about 10 minutes more and then went to sleep.  At 0630 I woke up with an oh-mi-god he’s dead start.  He wasn’t.  Son 1 aged 4y and 1m slept in till 0715.  We were at Nursery a bit earlier than usual and parked further up the drive than normal.  There were many, many mushrooms the size of dinner plates in the leaves under the trees.  Son 1 was delighted, and rushed to tell his Nursery teacher. “I like mushrooms now Mummy.”  See http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/04/01/zoom-zoom-zoom  

Marks were having a 20% off everything sale today.  I would like to have gone, but there was so much to do at The Office that I didn’t get near it.  I might boycott them now because I don’t want to pay 20% more than everyone else just because I work.  And the bags thing is annoying me too.  I have a house full of Bags For Life I never use because I am Too Busy to remember them.  So being positive instead of just crabby,  I went to Tesco instead after work and did a Big Shop.  Free carriers.  The Man had kept Son 1 and Son 2 up waiting for me to get back.  I parked the car outside, and Son 2, in The Man’s arms, burst into loud angry tears as soon as he saw me.   

The boys ransacked the shopping.  Caught in friendly fire: 2 Innocent smoothies; 1 yoghurt, 1 gala apple and 1 grape.   Upstairs I tried to get out of my work outfit and into clothes Son 2  could snot on.  He gazed at me, holding on to the red chair.  And then walked, confidently about 10 or 11 steps to get to me before plopping down on his bottom.  I called Son 1 and The Man and they came rushing up. We tried and tried to get him to do it again.  We stood him, we balanced him… and he plopped down and crawled off, laughing.

1.  A lie-in

2. Flesh and blood

3. Captain Hook

The good news is I got a lie in this morning because Son 2 aged 11m didn’t wake up till 8am.   However.  He slept in because he was up for HOURS.  He’s got Son 1 aged 3y 11m’s cough.  He doesn’t seem to have the fever, but he’s still very uncomfortable. I wish I could be a bit more forgiving at 4am when I’ve been up since 6am the previous day.  But I kissed him, dumped in his cot, said bye bye, closed the door so I couldn’t hear the ROOAARR and went downstairs.  I made a cup of tea, wrote some birthday cards, copied out Son 1’s New Nursery dates onto the calendar, hung out some washing, drank my tea, went back upstairs… And he’d stopped crying and gone to sleep.  

I fed Son 2 while Son 1 hopped up and down, trying to cuddle his brother, trying to get on my knee, trying to do anything to get attention.  “Why don’t you tell daddy not to empty the dishwasher till he’s brought my coffee up?”  I suggested, helpfully, thinking that would send him padding down 2 flights of stairs.  Son 1 walked to the top of Flight 2.  “DADDEEE. DON’T EMPTY THE DISHWASHER.”  Then there were little sorry-for-himself whining noises from the landing.  Back in he hopped, blood all over his hands, streaming from his nose.  Are there any other children who give themselves really bad nosebleeds by shouting?  It’s his second one in four days, and the other one was caused by a high-pitched shriek.  I suppose I should be grateful he hasn’t shattered any glassware yet.

My ebay bid was a flop, because after I got outbid, I couldn’t work out how to top the higher bid that kept appearing.  I have consulted a Young Thing at The Office who explained what I needed to do.  (”It’s easy.  My husband and I went on a diving holiday last year from the money we made on eBay.”)  Anyway.  The object of my heart’s desire was a Captain Hook outfit, aged 3- 4.  I ordered it full price on Sunday and it arrived today.  I had to let Son 1 try it on to … see if it fits.  He looked fantastic, and he was just so happy.  Bouncing on the bed in it, looking in the mirror.  “Ha-harr.  Give me the treasure lady.”  I gave Son 2 a toy sword, and he gave his huge grin and held it out to touch Son 1’s.  And then whacked me round the head with it, laughing.  He has spent his entire infancy watching Son 1 fencing using swords, sticks, dracaena leaves, wrapping-paper middles, lolly sticks, pencils… So of course he knew exactly what to do when he finally got a toy sword in his little baby fist…     

1.   For crying out loud

2.  Bloody help

3.  Oh bother

Son 2 aged 11m slept for an hour at The Nursery today, his longest yet.  Possibly related to me going to bed at midnight last night, waking him up as I went upstairs, and deciding not to go to him. The Shop is Shut, I thought.  The Man is away.  I have done a 19 hour day.  I am not doing any more.  I know how tired you are.  You will go to sleep soon.   At 0115 he finally passed out.  When I got to The Nursery to pick him up, I could hear him hollering from the road outside.  “He’s only just started,” they said.  I think that one’s in the book, just under “He stopped the minute you left.” 

 Son 1 aged 3 y 11m occasionally says “Bloody help” when things go wrong.  “I can’t get through this bloody gate,” as he tears the stairgate down.  “I don’t want any bloody breakfast” when I’m trying to crowbar him away from the telly to come downstairs.  The Man and I are ignoring it, and have mended our language ways.  Friends cry silently, shoulders shaking, when he does it.  The Man thinks he’s to blame, although I know there were a good few “Oh bloody, bloody, bloody, bloody f**ing hell”s witnessed by Son 1  during Son 2 ’s darkest refluxing days, when gallons upon gallons of  curdled acidic slop was vomited over me, the carpet and the soft furnishings five and six times a day.   My only mitigation is that Son 1 does say “Oh bother” more than anything else.

But, now he’s said to me: “You bloody f***ing girl.”  Ah.  I thought. That’s not charming.  That’s not going to go down very well at the Posh, Inaccessible, Outstanding Nursery when he starts on Thursday.  Casually I said “Those words are a bit angry and rude.  Daddy and Mummy have stopped saying those words.”  “I’m not going to stop saying them,” he said.  The only remaining tactic I have left is to wait a couple of weeks and then  complain to the Posh Nursery teacher.  “I’m not being funny, but he never used language like that before he started with you.” 

1.  Back at the beach

2.  Back at the stove

3. Back and forth

The Old Faithful beach where we have spent most of the last three summers.   Rockpools to prod, rocks to climb, a Cafe selling peppermint tea, and a cliff face between the children and the road.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m had a wonderful time, tearing back and forward.  It took forever to give Son 2 aged 11m his lunch.  Son 1 was right down the other end of the beach… up on the promenade, hassling the Cafe Lady with his Friend Aged 3 and his Friend Aged 4, running in and out of the sea, shaking seaweed around, collecting shells and digging a very big hole indeed.  I took Son 2 to the sea to paddle.  He looked and laughed and laughed and looked.  He loves water.  We had to stop when his jaw started chattering and his lips went blue.

Back home I had two boys asleep at once.  Hooray.  I’ll have a bag of crisps and read the paper.  But I’ll just sort the washing out.  I’ll just put Son 2’s lentils on.  I’ll just do the veg for Son 1 and me to have tortilla for tea.  I’ll just wash some stuff from  the veg box.  I had a cup of tea, but Son 2 woke up after an hour, so I didn’t get my sit down.  But we did have a very nice meal together, the three of us - The Man is on a Business Trip.  Son 1 and I had corn on the cob, straight from the veg box.  Sweet as sugar.  Well, it is sugar, but you know what I mean.  I did a little round of it for Son 2, who liked chipmunking at the corn, but didn’t like gagging on the skin, and so threw it overboard.

The sheer relief when I got back downstairs after the two and a half hours it took to get them to bed is my Third Good Thing.  Jeepers, as Daphne says in Scooby Do.  I bathed them together, and they were lovely.  They splashed each other, poked each other, prodded with legs and arms and elbows, snatched toys back and forth, giggled, threw things out of the bath, threw things into the bath… enchanting.  “I will give myself ten bonus points if I get them to bed without yelling,” I thought, as I gave them my best Madonna-smile.   Nil points.  It was hell. It took about half an hour to get Son 2 drowsy…and then in walked Son 1.  “I’m scared.” He got in the big bed, but couldn’t stay still, or quiet.  So Son 2 thought it was morning.  And then when I gave up trying to get him to sleep, thinking that I’d just leave him so I could at least get one of them off, he ROOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRREDDDD.  It was awful.  He didn’t cry it out of course.  I went  back, several times, and held his little panting body, with his thumping heart and his hot head flopped on my chest.  He loves me, yeah, yeah, yeah.