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. Welcome home, Daddy

2. The Last Day

3. The First Lesson

The Man got back at 2.30am.  Son 2 aged 11m woke up at 0345 and SCREAMED.  I tried everything.  I rocked him standing up, put him in the cot, lay him on the double bed with me next to him, and he just wriggled and writhed and cried and crawled up and down the bed till I had to put him back in the cot.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m had been in the Big Bed with me, and came padding down looking for me, went into his room, and to his delight, found The Man there, so they were both in the single bed.  I gave Son 2 calpol, I changed his nappy.  He was beside himself.  In the end we moved the fan from Son 1’s room to Son 2’s room, I lay down with him  and he passed out with the white noise.  I was telling a colleague from The Office about it this morning: “He just wanted to be held upright.”  Ah, I thought as I said it.  The one thing I didn’t try was Gaviscon.  I bet he had reflux.  In mitigation Your Honour, it was 4am and I have just done five 19 hour days in a row, solo. 

It was Son 1 aged 3y 11m’s last day at The Nursery today.  This is quite a big thing for me, but I know nothing about it.  The Man picked the boys up, and I got back from The Office late because I needed to finish something off.  Son 1 never has a clue what he did at Nursery, and The Man, who did a 20 hour day yesterday, plus the 4am family get together, went to bed after his takeaway.  Son 1 went into The Nursery a day before he was 6 months old.   The Man did stop off and bought the Nursery Nurses a couple of boxes of Milk Tray, but… but… but… it feels like An Event to me, and we haven’t had An Event to mark it.  I do hope Son 2 will be ok there without him.

I’ve given in and have bought a couple of learning to read and write books.  Son 1’s vaguely interested.  On Saturday, in the car with Mother on the way to the Bird Park, she said “I wish I had a memory like yours, Son 1.” And he said “I’m good at finding things too.  The only problem is, I can’t read.”  He said it to The Man this morning too.  He has got such a spookily fantastic memory that I’m kind of wondering if it will in fact be easier for him if he learns now.  Oh well, I’ll try it and if he hates it we’ll toss the books aside and have another Teddy Bears’ picnic instead.   We’ve got as far as A a.  

1.  White noise

2.  Peter Pan

3.  Quality time

Lordy, Son 2 aged 10m. 0030am, woke up howling.  He was really hot, so we gave him calpol, water, and put a fan on.  White noise, I thought.  Bound to help him back to sleep.  He just sat up, pointing himself in the fan’s direction (too dark to see it.)  0600 up, wants his feed.  I think in cave baby days the mothers just used to curl up on the bearskin with the snoozing children in the daytime.  It’s the only way this can be evolutionally possible.  On a positive note, because The Man was going away today, he stayed up with Son 2 last night.

The package full of Son 1 aged 3y 10m’s birthday party stuff was delivered to The Office.  I was late back, and completely crashed Wonder Nanny’s finish time.  She was, as always, saintly about it.  Son 1 was just gibbering over his box.  He was allowed to open it; he was allowed to get out the packets and look at them; he was not allowed to open them.  Peter Pan napkins, cups, plates, banners etc everywhere.  Son 2 was absolutely into it too, pulling things out of the box, shaking them, looking at them, making the plastic on the packets rattle and eating them.  “Thank you mummy for my lovely Peter Pan things.  I love them,” said Son 1.  I got kisses, I got cuddles.  And then I got: “My birthday is too long.  I want it now.”  “It’s Son 2’s birthday first,” I said.  ” You need to think about what you want to get him for a present.”  “I know THAT,” said Son 1, crossly.

Got Son 2 to bed.  Got Son 1 to bed.  The Man rang.  Put the side of Son 2’s cot up.  Woke Son 2.  MELTDOWN. Fed him again.  He’s batting his ear madly.  I  wonder if he’s going to,  again, prove me entirely unreasonable and come down with some bug.  I have decided to view the crying not as time stolen from me, and not to think about my delayed food, or the pile of work I still had to do.  Instead I will view it as what I’ve always wanted: more time with the baby.