Surviving week one

9 days without my partner to support, help and encourage me and I've survived!! Tonight it feels like "I've survived - only just". Giving in to the boys earlier pleas of "just one more game" or "just five more minutes" led to a good few hours of struggle through dinner, dog walk and bedtime routines. George was left without a routine. When he decided to start jumping on the bed at 8pm, I decided to accept my fate and brought him back downstairs to play whilst I hoovered and did my best to turn the chaos into a house I'd be willing to let people step into. (5pm today and the furthest I'd let you get was the door step.)

Looking back over the week though the boys and I have done much more than survive. We've soaked up culture at the children's museum where they were stacked by snakes, made a ninja film, travelling to Narnia "its terrifying mummy", sat in a kennel watching Wallace and Gromit and donned dressing gowns before bedtime stories in the world's largest bed. Walking along the high street in Oxford with George in the pushchair and Alby on my shoulders probably wasn't my most glam of moments but it was most definitely necessary and i was fuelled with a delicious ice cream and scone from the Ashmolean museum cafe. (Where, I've just remembered, for a bit of tho massage, an American lady who now has two grown up sons informed me I was wonderful mother.  Go figure). 

Turning books to film

Quick nap in the bedtime room

Making story titles 

The next day George was tumble tot extraordinaire - first, as he should be, at tumble tots but later too during our after school, the sun is shining, trip to the park. As well as giving Eddie the Eagle a run for his money George coerced Alby into some light bulldog mocking . Poor Percy.  (On reflection I think he really has only just survived this week). 

It was arts week at school last week with a lion king / Africa theme with the children being treated to touring choirs and dance groups from the continent. The children did their own dance production on Wednesday afternoon, were treated to face painting on Friday (fearful of his wound Albs went for a snake on his arm) and have had a lion king inspired menu all week. There was also an art competition; every child in the school received the same picture to colour in with three different prizes being given. Yes, I was quite smug when Albs ran out of class on Friday clutching his (now laminated) picture, certificate and prize having won. As he told me: "I was just so surprised when they said my name. And then everyone clapped and I got all these sweets. I just was so surprised". Love him. 

Double superstar points actually for this little dude who also got the Headmasters award on Monday for "really good tidying up".  

Smalley meanwhile has taken to telling me how amazing the world of is. I used to think about which bits of Mark and me our children would inherit. Would they get his sense of humour? My competitiveness...? Fair enough questions with Albs but completely redundant with the littlest Monkey who gets everything from Alby. Mannerisms, laugh, sense of humour, dare devil ways and words. This week, inspired by Albug's enthusiasm for life, everything has been "amazing". He's also managed to give himself the new nickname of "Pickle" after shouting "Let's Pickle" before shooting off on his bike on pretty much every single dog walk he's been on.  I'm not sure I'll ever get him in a pushchair again. Telling him we're going to get his bike is my new go to - distracting from tantrums and episodes of not sharing almost as effectively as offering him an ice pop. 

Den and telly time

We've also had lots of testing of colours, counting to ten (- which he did all by himself when in the car with GG, what a time to perform!) singing (twinkle twinkle, incy wincy spider, heads shoulders knees and toes, rainbow world...) and a fair amount of arts and crafts - more on that later.  The boys continue to tell the most awful jokes, Albs generally offering nonsensical punchlines or ones which rhyme with the subject of the joke as if that's funny enough: why did the chicken cross the road?  Because he was licken. Hahahaha.  George has mastered the "Knock knock" format until we get the punchline which continues to be a very serious "no" no matter what has come before.  Joke making, games of eye spy and playing "what are you thinking" have probably tested me the most this week.  

What the photos don't show is how much naked there has been around the house this week.  The weather has been glorious and my boys don't need telling twice to strip down.  We've had naked racing, naked football, naked bubbles, naked daisy chain making, naked digging, naked ninjas, naked water play, naked drawing and even a naked picnic.  

Horse going in for the bulldog snog at Lydiard Park

We finished off the week with bike rides, den building, car washing, swimming lessons, shopping and, today, a trip to Lydiard Park for duck feeding, horse stroking, park playing and, you guessed it, more bike riding. If it's possible to feel both refreshed and shattered at the same time then that's me.  Buoyed by the fresh air, laughter and madness that is my life, exhausted by the cleaning, driving, cooking, late nights and broken nights that are equally my life. 

Sleeping like a baby - someone has to 

Smalley turns 2

What's that?  I'm two...?

*I wrote this entry the day after Smalley turned 2.  It has taken me until now to post.  Thanks for the chaos little fella!

We celebrated Smalley's birthday at Bocketts farm with our most favourite family and friends. The weather was glorious, the pig racing fast and furious, the play area the perfect distraction for mini people and the feeding station a disgusting mix of animal mess, long tongues and cow slobber. The pregnant sheep were visibly bouncing as they attempted to pant out the heat of the day.

We ended with a cousin and grandparent family tea back at my parents which involved a bit of orchid trampling, compost moving and ended with a full set of naked children.

It was a great day despite my five minute tantrum when my lovely top got covered in bright orange ice lolly - thank you George.

What can I tell you of Goblin at 2? 

...YAY!

Well, he's just a goblin really.

He's a vocal chap; He enjoys shouting at the end of meals. He enjoys calling for family members "where are youuuuuu Alby/daddy/mummy?"

His words are coming along and we have to watch what we say as he copies everything. There's still a good amount of baby in the mix though - probably a good 20% of what he announces is completely incomprehensible despite him tilting his head, looking into our eyes and talking slowly whilst he says it. Albug claims to be his interpreter but relying on that message generally leads to more questions than answers!

He loves singing. Mostly twinkle twinkle little star and monos rainbow song, both of which he gets caught in a round on. The former with him confusing the last line with the first so at the end of the song we go straight into "up above the world so high..." Momos rainbow song makes my heart smile. I have a two year old who will happily repeat the colours of the rainbow for twenty minutes - with one minor but vital error..."red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, vio-red, orange, yellow, green..."

And tandem 

He also loves cuddles.  Bog monkey cuddles where he wraps his arms around your neck and holds on tight.  Sometimes he snuggles into the crook of your neck or your chest in order to up the cuteness factor.  Best feeling ever.  

Solo tractor riding 

He loves his dad.  He loves his bulldog.  He loves me.  But it's probably fair to say that most of all he loves Albug.  He loves to follow Albs around, copy him, laugh at him, mimic him, look for him and even interrupt all of his games if it will get him a reaction.

The other day Smalley bumped his head in the kitchen.  Big brother was there and quickly sprung into action "show me where it hurts little one, show me your owwie.  Blow here and I'll give it a magic rub. All better?  All better."  I was in the room next door overhearing this and suffice to say my heart almost burst.  

Best buddies off to the shops 

I used to worry about the impact of adding another monkey to an already crazy household. I used to wonder how we'd find the time and the love for all.  Two years in and it's noisier, busier and even more chaotic but with laughter, love and cheekiness.  We're kept on our toes by a little chap who refuses to slow down because he wants to be involved, be included and be part of whatever everybody is laughing about.  Thanks for the past two years Smalley - they've been a blast.

Smalley bulldog

I don't feel this video actually needs an introduction however, in the spirit of generosity I shall set the scene:

The boys had been playing in the garden for about an hour. Percy included, who had been jumping about like an idiot at the mere mention of going outside. Having pushed Smalley around the garden in his car four or five times, Albs was having his own game of football. I was entertaining Percy and Smalley was doing some good people watching from the comfort of his little tikes cozy coupe. He called me over with a very serious face, pointed at Percy, giggled and this video showing Smalley's impression of a bulldog, was created shortly after...

Sadly the weather didn't keep for us, though we sneakily managed to make the most of a lull in the rain for the afternoon dog walk. I say dog walk, it was more puddle splashing whilst the bulldog looked on despairingly. By the time we got home both boys were soaked to their pants. They'd been watching a Blaze and the Monster Machines earlier - their favourite shared programme at the moment. I missed the episode but clearly it had something to do with the Monster Machine called a Pickle as Smalley spent the whole walk, and I really do mean the whole walk, shouting "let's Pickle" before charging through a puddle or trying to catch his brother.

I was hoping his love for Blaze would mean I could leave him downstairs with Percy and the telly whilst I put Albs to bed. Such was not to be. Within minutes he was crying and making his way upstairs. So, in true modern parenting fashion, I got Blaze on my phone, threw it into Alby's camper van tent, and carried on reading to Albug. At the end of the episode out waddled Smalley asking for more, then after a quick kiss from his brother, he was back in the tent again. Not quite what I had in mind but not a bad fix whilst daddy is away.

Afraid I can't finish for the day without sharing this photo of Albs enjoying chocolate cake in the cafe. Don't be fooled into thinking this was some sort of action shot. Let's be quite clear that this is his no nonsense, "oh my goodness I love this cake" face.

A note to my man

To my love,

In case you were wondering I have had quite the fun afternoon. It started with me having to be all sorts of tricksy with work in order to collect Albug from school on time (where, in case you were wondering I was chastised for only having two types of food on me rather than three and was almost cried at for the lack of water until he realised he was the one who'd left his water bottle in the classroom.) I made the boys dinners with Percy under my feet then dashed off to get Smalley before nursery fined me for late collection (hampered by the sudden realisation that Albug's car seat was still in the hallway). Back on the road to negotiate terrible driving by the locals accompanied to Smalley's shouts of "mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy, tractor big driving wheel" alongside Alby's shouts of "mummy, mummy, mummy, I was talking first". Neither a train going past nor an orange digger sighting managed more than a few seconds of silence. Quick change in the car park before catching up on emails/chasing George/holding up a pad to be kicked and punched by 5 year olds (some of those children are strong) and we are back in the car. Next stop, download Blaze, grab jackets and the reluctant bullhound, bundle the boys into the trailer and off we go. In case you were wondering, yes, that was the exact moment the skies decided to open and Percy and I learnt what "soaked to the bone" really means. Snack, bath, teeth, pyjamas and the bedtime countdown to sleep really is upon us. 

Albs chose his books (4 Buddha stories please). George was not so happy about this arrangement. To distract him I asked him to go and get a book from his room and come back. Off he waddled, returning shortly after with his duvet. He was sent bank again and we heard rummaging away next door as I raced through Alby's stories. 

George reappeared and proudly presented me with "Animal farm" to read. He was sent away for the third time. 

Further speed reading to Alby and George comes back with a Peter Rabbit book. We pause Albs' story to read to Smalley then send him off again. This time he returns with Matilda and a dunnop for me. A little bit of multitasking at its finest, Alby's third story is finished and Monkey is clean. 

At this point Albug decides to tell me he thinks his front tooth is a bit wobbly. It is. Just a bit perhaps but there's definite wobble taking place. "What does that mean mummy? Will it fall out? When will it fall? How long until my new tooth grows?" As images predicting the next 2 years of a gappy, smiling child flit before my eyes I mumble a "just dont touch it" because that advice will definitely stick!! 

The final story was a mixture of Buddha story, dinosaur board books and my pounding heart. 

Albs had his kisses and the story cd went on, Smalley climbed into bed giggling and quickly calmed but has needed teetha and nurofen to turn sleeping cries into sleeping soundly. I've chatted with Drew whilst calming Percy who started barking like crazy after he heard Drew's dog on Skype. In case you were wondering, he checked the perimeter, gruffing in every corner before finally settling down on ted. 

So, if you were wondering if you'd been missed yet, yes you have. A lot. Xxx

Pint sized boy, gallon sized bravery

Alby had an unfortunate run in with a plastic cricket bat today resulting in his lip getting split open. There's a nasty wound on the outside of the top lip, cut on the inside top and bottom and bruising on the gums. It happened minutes before I collected him from after school club; I walked in to find him standing pink eyed and pale faced in the toilets, blood on his mouth, chest and knees, with two members of staff doing their best to clean him up.
If it had been me, I would have burst into tears at the sight of my mum. He just stood there, completely still letting them talk and continue cleaning him up. Our GP is in the village, we went there but were referred to the walk in clinic, a quick call to them and we were redirected to A&E.  We stopped home for snacks and supplies and made our way to hospital.
Alby's first words were a whispered: "can I tell Joey that I'm just like him" - referencing his cousin having to go to the hospital this time last year when he split his chin open. By the time we were on the road to the hospital he had not only cracked a smile but started giggling (rather inappropriately really, as we were talking about the time Narna fell off her horse - clearly he has his inherited his father's 'you've-been-framed'-loving genes).  Once at the hospital he ran off to play with the toys.

A big shout out to the NHS for, once again, being bloomin' marvellous. The staff were amazing. The doctor had a brilliant bedside manner and had Alby joking and feeling the hero. The children's A&E (who knew such things existed) was well equipped and had Disney films on repeat. They kept doors locked so George running up and down the corridor laughing manically caused no problem. And Alby played. He was tired and hungry and on nil by mouth until they worked out what to do with him but he took it in his stride. When we finally got home it was late and he didn't fuss or whine or complain. He hasn't once said his mouth hurts. He hasn't cried. He has just been this amazing little, incredibly brave boy.

I'd been having a rubbish day at work and confess even seeing George's face at nursery pick up wasn't  enough to shrug off the leftover emotions and unfinished tasks from the work. One look at Alby however, stoic, solemn and oh so brave, and it was forgotten. And it stayed forgotten until I finally had both boys sleeping. Our children keep us grounded. They act as a constant prompt as to what our priorities should be. And they teach us about patience, forgiveness and bravery. Thank you Alby for being the little super star that you are.

Fingers crossed you are happy when I wake you for breakfast in 4 hours - were nil by mouth from 6am tomorrow morning until the plastic surgeons get a chance to see him!! The life of a five year old is never boring.