Beastie boys

It's been almost a month since I updated this blog. Bad me. In my defence, I've been a little busy and I have a brief interlude before I get busy again. But between sailing the high seas and running a business, life with two small boys has continued with all the normal chaos.

A highlight has included son 1 learning how to ride his bike without stablisers. I am very, very pleased about this. Mainly because it means I can tick another thing off my to do list. Children come with long to do lists: get them to sleep through the night, introduce them to solid foods, get them potty trained, get them to dress themselves etc etc etc. Teaching them to ride a bike requires less sleep deprivation than getting them to sleep through the night and less mess than the introduction of pureed sprouts, but it's a killer on your back. It also requires much patience, something I am not blessed with.

Son 1 is a reluctant trier. He can be cajoled into trying something once. If he doesn't immediately get it right, he throws a hissy fit, lashing out, calling everything and everyone stupid before stomping off into the distance. His stablisers have been off for several months but due to many of these incidences, we've not made much headway. But last week we had a breakthrough and he can now balance (precariously) on his own and can even get started without someone holding onto his bike. Now we only have to teach him to read (hopefully school will help with that) and get him to swim without armbands (a task I've been tackling for ages with very little to show for my efforts). Thereafter I can sit back and wait till he's old enough to learn how to drive a car (god help me).

Son 1 has also finally come into his own on the football pitch and is not only joining in, but doing well. Hoorah! Unfortunately, these small steps forward in development seem to have coincided with him turning into a teenager. We have a lot of sulking, strops, name calling, door slamming, ignoring, aggression and a colourful collage of other delightful behaviour. As a result, he and his bedroom have gotten to know each other better and the timer on my cooker has been working overtime as his time-outs almost run into each other.

Son 2's achievements are slightly less impressive. He has mastered potty talk and name calling. Everyone is an idiot. Or a poopy pants. Or Farty Pants. His preferred meal choice is poo sandwiches with a side order of wee to drink. He thinks this is all hilarious. I find it less so. I've now resorted to the threat of spicy mustard in the mouth if the language continues. I had this administered to me when I was a tweenager and never quite got over the humiliation of it. I don't see me actually doing it, but spicy mustard has now become the ultimate in punishments. If either boy does anything wrong, the other immediately pipes up: "Bring the spicy mustard mummy!" Sigh.

Son 2 has also decided that 5.30am is his preferred wake up time. Funnily, it's not mine. Despite having several deep and meaningful conversations on the subject of not waking mummy up, every morning I still have a small beastie scraping his toenails down my legs in a bid to get me up. This does little to start my day on a cheery note and destroys my remaining shreds of patience for the rest of the day.

So you can see, not much has changed despite me being missing in action for a month. Hopefully by the time I blog again, the potty language will have been flushed away, the strops will have transformed in a bubble of loveliness, I'll be getting to lie in till at least 6am and swimming prowess will be demonstrated in the summer sunshine. But I won't be holding my breath.

PS - this was written while two small boys have been arguing over whether they should watch Dora or Mr Men, who can hold a blue balloon and who owns the Ben-10 watch, all with lots of hitting, kicking, screaming and general carnage as a backdrop. It's been relaxing.