1.  Stirrings

2.  Back to School

3.  Sprint Finish

It was hell getting Son 2 aged 13m down in the cot last night - took more than half an hour - but he stayed in till nearly 6am, which I am counting as a second night sleeping through.  If he makes it tonight I will start seeing if I can put him down in the cot, rather than leaving him lying on a double bed with pillows either side.  He was hungry and he was thirsty.  A clear, definite “Na na” Which he ate in less than five minutes once we were downstairs.  He was brilliant for his books this morning, sitting still for The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Well most of it.  As soon as the pages you can stick your fingers in had gone, he was off.  His favourite is still the animals book.  He can now fling his arm up for the elephant, make fish mouth noises and roar like a lion.  There is a little confusion between the noises for a duck’s quack quack and a crocodile’s snap-snap but it’s easily done.  He is also definitely yeh yeh ing, and nnnnnn ing. And Ma Ma has returned, but with considerably more “SORT ME OUT NOW” welly.

We were a bit worried about Son 1 aged 4 y 1m going back to Nursery, because with his two-week half term and his ear infection it’s been three weeks.  He was ok.  He made me park way up the entrance road, and we arrived just as the children were sitting down for the register.  He plonked himself down on the floor and gazed up at the teacher as if I wasn’t there.  Wonder Nanny picked him up and said the teacher had said he’d been very tired in the afternoon.  Again, it’s the playground.  Too noisy.   

Other good things: my computer came back from the mender’s, which will make The Office a bit easier, because I can work in the evenings again, hooray hooray.  We have a number for a chiropodist for The Man’s sore feet.   Wonder Nanny has sent off the registration form for Ofsted.  We’ve accepted a party invitation for Son 1.  “That’s good news, isn’t it Mummy?”  He’s getting the hang of this.  And Son 2 stole the show.  As he was exhausted, I held him under his armpits to let him practise walking - one of his favourite things, and I thought if he did his usual hold-on-to-my-fingers-walk he’d stumble and get fed up.  When he felt the extra support he just sprinted.  Up and down the kitchen like Forest Gump, with me having to do a running, bent-over waddle to keep up with him.  He chortled and squealed and laughed and laughed.  So did Son 1.  I knew we were in for it when he finally walks… it never occurred to me that it will in fact be much worse when he can RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNN.

1. The dozen

2. The new beach

3. Swimming

A fine morning with flat water.  Forecast for dryish day with rain later. Ah.  That means we’ve got to take The Boat out.   And Son 1 aged 3y 11m will want to go to the beach.  Taking all 4 of us onto the beach by boat is just about at the outside of what we can manage safely and drily.  We need more people in our team. We rang up the 4 year old/2 year old boy house.  Eight tickets please, as they have guests.  A couple and two teenage boys.  The Man took Son 1 to bring in The Boat.  We piled on. 

Captain Seadog took us to a new beach - just a bit further along from the public ones at the edge of The Town.  This was entirely tidal  and accessible only by about 9 flights of rickety steps down from the most beautiful cliff top house.  I must work harder.  We had it to ourselves.  Very Famous Five.  Dripping caves, a little tunnel, cowrie shells and cockles and mother-of-pearl winkles.  Seaweed and sea anenomes.  I spread out the mat and gave Son 2 aged 11m his lunch.  The small boys ran off. The teenage boys cracked open the hula hoops.  The adults cracked open the wine and lit the barbies.   Food kept coming.  Son 2 was a terrorist, and kept diving into the cool bag. He wanted raisins.  He wanted fromage frais.  He wanted his milk.  He wanted a hula hoop, suspecting that the things everyone else were stuffing their faces with would be worth tasting.  He was a sand monster.  Everything he touched, sand, sand, sand.

The Man put the beach tent up.   The boys wrecked it.  Son 2 wanted to play too, and did his first dummy walk over to it, holding on to my hands. Son 1 and 4 year old played collecting shells to make treasure.  Then rockpooling. I went with them, first with a glass of wine, and then with a coffee.  Then I changed in the tunnel (sky showing through a hole in the roof, of course) and went for a swim, via the anchor of the tender.  It was cold and seaweedy, but fantastic. I swam to the other end of the beach where the boys were playing, and past the rocks jutting out to another hidden beach on the other side.  More dripping rockfaces.  Shells and light round pebbles.  I went back in to swim back, and then turned round and started to swim out to sea.  “Mum-meeee!”  Son 1 at the shore. “Come back!” The Man felt the same.  Grey clouds cantering towards us. I couldn’t hurry to change - my fingers were too cold to do up my buttons, and too cold to dress Son 1, and too cold to do up Son 2’s lifejacket.  Rained on a bit on the way back, but a brilliant day.  Spontaneous and successful.