Don't!

Ezra sounds like Mariella Frostrup, and they are both hacking like professional pipe smokers.
Despite their obvious illness, Seth has managed to perfect his walking skills, and can turn, walk sideways and- most importantly-dance. Last night they played with some spooky balloons, chasing the floating ghostly faces around the room and I faced my future; the fighting will only get more violent now they are both capable of kicking.
Seth is maximizing his only tooth, by continuing to eat virtually anything (corned beef, beans and tomatoes for lunch) and biting chunks out of his brother's head.
Ez has us in stitches with his singing (Razorlight and Hard-Fi mashed with Fireman Sam) and his comprehension makes him wise beyond his years. ("Mummy don't shout No! at Sethy- he doesn't understand.")
His favourite game is checking his emails and writing his blog. Do you think I might spend too long on the computer?
Ezra is as precocious as ever. And very bossy. He despairs at other children not doing exactly as he dictates. I feel like I am wading through a mire when I try and explain the merits of empathy, generosity and democracy. I can remember with crystal clarity how shattered I would be when other children lied, broke a toy, or broke the rules. If I'm honest, I haven't changed much since I was almost three.
I wonder if should be trying to help him modify his behaviour when he is disappointed and frustrated, as opposed to learning to live with the disappointment itself.
Sometimes, I hate being a parent. This era has shown how responsible we are for informing our children's development. I often make the wrong choices.
This is the guilt my mother talked about. Its amazing how it grows as they grow.

tragedy

They're both sickly with colds. Up for most of last night, and because I am a good and generous mother I dragged them around the shops because, despite being broke, I need new trousers for tonight. I'm going out with some grown ups- many of whom don't even have children!! Also, I have lost some more blubber and can declare some of my clothes officially too big.
Tragedy number one struck when in Hennes trying on trousers. Folding my baby bulge (will the excess skin be there forever?) into what I thought were size 14 trousers, I noted they were a tad tight. "I'll just get the 16's" I thought and "my bum doesn't look too big in these- what shall I have for lunch and will that affect my bum size?". When I took them back to the changing room attendant and glanced at the label. There, in bold black writing- size 16. That means I need an 18. I've gone from healthy, to overweight and now obese in 3 minutes. Still, I upsize and buy them (my bum did look ok).
So, leaving Hennes I realise I am tired and fat and Seth is wailing, because he is sick and Ezra is whinging because he is hungry and wants to watch The Magic Roundabout- because he is "quite sick, Mummy." I want to buy a new eyeliner. I make a mental note not to go shopping with them ever ever again.
We settle on two DVD's from WHSmiths. Seth is now hysterical- Ezra has joined in because he is, by now "very sick mummy. I need an ambulance"
I drive home, listening to them demand food, drinks, bears, dummies and "Daaaaaaaahdeeeeeeeeeeee", and I contemplate the size of my bum, what to make for lunch, whether to wash darks or whites and what shoes to wear with my trousers. In that order.
Lunch is a disaster, and lies strewn across the floor, as Ezra is, by now "too sick for food Mummy. I can only eat a cake"
I throw them both into bed- covered in leftovers, and hurl a load in the washing machine.
My trousers are too long- even with my heels on. I am now tired, fat and short.
They wake up after an half an hour and I yelp and sprint to the DVD player. The shop assistant was so busy trying to tell me how to stop my children from crying, he inadvertantly gave me two copies of the same film.
I lie down in a pile of toys and ironing and expire.

artisan parenting

Violence rears its ugly head once more. The first time around Ezra was but a wee toddling baby and was busy waddling around pushing shoving and pulling hair as only babies can. I was mortified by his behaviour, but together we were able to learn that it was wrong to try and rip other children's arms out of their sockets. (Seth is teetering on the edge of this phase and I go into it slightly more relaxed than last time.)
This time its other kids attacking Ez- and worse, him replicating this behaviour. Now they're all a bit bigger, they spend their time tugging, snatching and stealing each others toys. Everyone has a different way of dealing with this, and I am in no way criticizing other parents methods of tackling this behaviour. I am old school, and so I wade in when there's a visible snatch going on.
Similarly, if another child is hitting Ez (or he's pushing or shoving some other innocent) I wade in and remove Ezra. Occasionally, I've been so incensed by an act that I've even removed the other child and offered them up to their parent. I assume that all parents would want to tackle violence straight away- head on and sternly. I am a zero tolerance kind of Mum.
I am learning that I am wrong in this assumption. Some parents don't seem to care at all (and they should be shot at dawn See? No tolerance.) Some parents believe that a bit of push and shove is all part of learning to socialise and develop independence and confidence (I can see where they are coming from), and some think its character building (oooh, he knows what he wants! He'll be fantastic on the rugby/football pitch.)
I am also learning that in comparison to many middle class parents, I am a working class, shouting, stern downright hard mum. When Ez has been particurlarly naughty (oh no, I labelled my child- he'll become a murderer now!!) he gets a strong telling off and a time out. In public this involves being put in his pram, or standing against the wall away from the rest of the children for a period of time. I can see other parents staring, aghast at how cruel I am being.
I give him incentives for good behaviour- I remove toys and treats for bad behaviour. I think nothing of hollering across a crowded room if I spot him grabbing or pushing, or snatching.
I am aware of how I must appear to others- I cringe at how my desire to be in control often materializes as bullying. I hope I can get the knack of this parenting thing and learn to be less domineering. All I can say is, I'm new at this. As are all of the other parents. I have good intentions. I care about their future and I am trying to teach my children that there are consequences for there actions- both good and bad.

urgh

I was going to blog about being skint and having to use my nectar points to pay for my shopping until I realised two things
a. This is so incredibly boring read and highlights how small my world has become.
b. The fact that I could use my nectar points for my shopping shows how much we spend on food in the first place.
So, instead I'll drivel on about how our Seth woke up a record six times last night. He's got separation anxiety and is very distressed by our refusal to let him sleep with us/jump all over us.
Now, radically, I don't mind the lads sleeping with me on occasion. Daytime naps together are the most delicious treat and best kept secret. I can sometimes sleep much better when they are purring peacefully next to me. However, our bed isn't big enough for us all, and so John usually finds himself on the sofa. In addition, their sleep cycles are very different from an adults, and they wiggle and wriggle, and chatter and get up and walk/crawl around the bed before settling back down. This is very annoying- especially as I find it difficult to get back to sleep once I've woken up.
And really, I know the value of independence and self soothing. They really should sleep alone in their own beds. People might start asking questions if we're all still bedding down together when they're in their twenties.
So, mostly the lads are in their room and we are in ours. Amazingly Ez now sleeps like a top and we don't usually hear a peep from him until morning (a very early morning mind you)
They only climb in with us when they are sick, have wet the bed, or we are just too damned tired to keep getting up to comfort Seth back to sleep.
Except that that boy is canny and clever and knows that if he wakes every hour or so and cries loud enough and for long enough eventually he will get his own way and will spend the majority of the night either in our arms or in our bed.
Well- I'm wise to that kid. More importantly, I've had enough of being being 'The Most Tired Person In Tooting' (yes, John-I am more tired than you. *FACT*)
So, like all parents who never learn their lesson and foolishly believe they can take back control, I'm helping Seth go cold turkey. Again. I wonder how many times I'm going to tackle this sleeping issue, and even if its worth it. Still- it makes me and John feel better to at least try. Its getting embarrassing, watching a grown man cry every morning.
I'll see you in three days, when my eardrums have burst, my heart has broken and Seth has damaged vocal chords from all that crying. But, at least he'll be sleeping in his own bed, and hopefully putting himself back to sleep on occasion.

toddle on

Seth is walking. How can I possibly keep an eye on them both? I want to tie them together and then strap them to me. Two of Seth's teeth are emerging. He has a penchant for emptying drawers, bookcases and he loves black pudding, beef (chunks not puree) and prawns.
The fun of having two littlies is that they occasionally share things like sleep disruption and teething (Ez is getting more back teeth- ouch!)
As Ez is a little shorter than the average two and a half year old and Seth is pretty much average height (and double avergage girth- he is hench) they are sharing clothes. The double buggy weighs a ton which is giving me wicked muscles, and a bad back.
The great news is that this season's Minks hats are in production. Ez is already sporting an bonfire inspired orange and red stripy number with bobbles which he insists on calling bells "just like Noddy". Seth is modeling a oceanic themed blue green and turquoise beanie. John wants to divorce me after only a week of clacking knitting needles.

(Yes, Ezra is indeed bereft of clothing. He is still going through his "I be naked!" phase)

Why I know biological drives are independent of the rational mind

I haven't had a full nights sleep since I was seven weeks pregnant with Ezra. That's over three years.
Seth has a cold/is teething/separation anxiety/stubborn as a mule and has been waking at least three times a night for roughly six weeks now.
Ezra is terribly two.
I have lost a stone. I weigh less than I did when I became pregnant with Ezra.
I will be 32 in December.
I like drinking booze, smoking (occasionally)
I can honestly say that the first few months with a new Seth and existing Ezra were rock hard.
I rely heavily on the help of my friends when out in public with both children.
I fantasize about 'nights off', adult-only weekend breaks, and all day drinking sessions.
I tend to almost die during childbirth.
We are poor.
We have two beautiful, healthy (mostly) handfuls already.
So why am I staring adoringly at new babies, feeling that deep primal longing to procreate.
Madness (and for the record, I am most definitely ignoring it.)

just wait while I catch my breath

Ezra painted the curtains,telephone, walls, and himself and all while I changed an evil nappy- which squirted its contents all over our bed and floor- which was covered in clothes after the the nappy wearer had emptied every drawer- while I had been getting out paints for Ezra, so he would stop throwing toys around the front room because he couldn't find his bear- who was being dried after the nappy wearer had been sick on him.

blue

Seth has had a cold for a few weeks, which has developed into a shocking cough. For a week he woke every hour leading John to lose all concept of time and space "he's been like this since he was born- why won't he sleep? I'm dying from sleep deprivation." Thankfully, the more severe his cough has become, the more soundly he is sleeping- alas, I am wavering between relief at getting some extra hours in the sack and lying awake worrying that he will stop breathing.
Ezra had a week of wetting the bed- an abrupt reminder that potty training isn't quite over yet. He seems to have returned to dryness in the majority, (with the exception of last night when he awoke from a nightmare and found he had done a huge mattress soaking widdle.)
I've now lost nearly a stone- which is shocking in that its happening quite suddenly and quickly. I wonder if I can reach my outlandish goal of 'Kate Moss thin' by Christmas.
The most exciting event is that we have reached an understanding with our generous Landlord and we have painted our kitchen blue. I imagine my front room with putting green walls and a forest green flock accent wall. clean white bathroom walls. A calico hallway. I am giddy and delirious. Perhaps that's the paint fumes.