Snot. Gross: So far this year, we have had a precious 2-week period of no runny noses. It was bliss. I even washed the sofa covers etc and loved being able to pick up my kids without first assessing which was the best way to make contact AND keep my clothes presentable.
However, those days are long gone. We are back into the constant snotty nose era and it seems endless. Where is so much of the green/yellow/miscellaneous coloured stuff coming from? And why do I suddenly feel like I have OCD as I run around after the young terrors waving a tissue as if it was a white flag to surrender? (By the by, another OCD moment for me is when the kids ask to help with baking. I thought I would be totally relaxed and a super-chilled mum in this situation. Nope. It’s not always about the experience, I also want a decent cake to eat at the end of it, so back off!). Photo reference: it was raining outside and I suggested we built a tent. Gravy interrupted this as ‘lets bring a ladder inside and climb around the living room’. Thats miscommunication right there!
Big news: I have an office space!! We finally sold our baby furniture and said a long overdue (yet still a little emotional) goodbye to that era, and Gravy immediately jumped into creating a space for me to unpack my boxes of paper after 10 years. It is great! And it is of course, a total mess. There are piles everywhere. I would like to say these are temporary, but let’s see. Plus the walls are empty waiting for all my genius ideas to come to fruition. Still. However, a major advantage is that I have cleared the downstairs table by just moving everything up to the magical office space. Moving I said, not filing. Still, small steps. The best part of the office, and the one that certainly provides the most amount of entertainment for other people, is that I have a desk and a chair that exactly fits my size. Aka, hobbit style. Really. 
My desk is lower than Squeaks shoulders, and he is 2.5 years old. See photo of Gravy chuckling to himself! And I am basically sitting on a mushroom sized chair – of which I am only using half of what I paid for as the rest of the chair is folded within itself. Oh, the perils of being short-legged: Desks so close to the floor that you practically trip over them, and always having to turn up the bottom of my trousers. Not so perilous in relation to other woes in the world, more but you get my drift. Laugh at my little legs but gasp in admiration at the unusually long body I have – biology works in mysterious ways to balance itself out.
Parenting woes: Bubble has been shooting me a lot recently. Figuratively speaking, not literally luckily. But I really struggle with that. Especially because what Bubble does, Squeak does. I understand boys will be boys etc etc and at school there is a lot of ‘police and prison’ games, but I remember playing ‘who has the prettiest dress on’ and ‘who can plait hair’ games’ when I was that age, so this is new territory for me, and it’s not comfortable. We have come to arrangement that if he shoots me he sits in his room for a few minutes. This is for me as much as for him. Speaking to other mums of boys, it seems that we all struggle with this. 
I realise he is too young to fully comprehend the meaning of shooting someone, but I also feel that if I don’t gentle approach this subject then at some point, it will be too late and it will be ‘normalised’ to shove a carrot stick in my face and shout “bang bang”. As normalised as that can be. When is ‘too late’ too late, and when is it ‘too early’? The meanderings of motherhood.
I have defiantly been shouting more in the last few weeks. Mostly the boys love to play together. But sometimes they really don’t, and it drives us all insane. I had a moment recently when I dealt with an argumentative situation in a really calm and serene manner, only for poor Squeak to interrupt my imaginary pat on the back by demanding some food, again (wow, are they ever full?) and I screamed at him. Moment truly shattered. Bad mom!
Luckily, going out usually helps us all. And the trampoline in the garden is priceless. But sometimes finding the motivation to actually pack up everything and leave the house is tough. Especially when it means putting on the extra 3 layers of clothes that are needed to brace ourselves for the ‘winter we thought was over but isn’t quite yet’ days. And why can I never find the gloves?? Anyway, once out and about, it’s all glorious, merry and filled with fun. Until Squeak gets cold or Bubble rolls around in the snow so much it works its way up his trouser leg and gives him a bit of a shock. 
Cue quick retreat back into the warmth. And begin with the undressing and rounding up of odd shoes sprawling around the place. There is always a moment peace, as if the house is taking a breath, when the boys are asking if they should start demanding food immediately, or check out what toys they can throw one another first. It must be a tough life being young, but I appreciate that moment, as it is just a moment, where I can unzip my own coat and prepare myself for round #2 or #27 of the day “No, you have just eaten, you have to wait” or “Bubble don’t throw the aeroplane at your brother and Squeak take Mr Potato Head’s nose out of your mouth”. Fun times.
My boys are growing and its a bit scary: Bubble has had his first post-school playdate with a friend from his class! So grown up 🙂 I was a complete idiot and had no idea what was expected from me, so I basically had to ask if I was supposed to walk with him to their house from school, take a bike etc. I figured it was best to ask and look like a fool rather than spend 2 days stressing about it. Anyhow, it all went swimmingly aside from a kick in the ear and a mass game of shooting with the big boys (see above – let it go Sophie!). It was also pretty clear that she wasn’t going to invite me in for coffee, which a friend advises me (perhaps sympathetically) that this is very Dutch. We have lots of friends here and are lucky to always have people to call on if I need to kill some time or need some adult company whilst the kids run around. But this was Bubble flying solo, and a whole new dimension. Well done. I’m so proud of you. Only maybe next time you could come with me when we have agreed its time to go home and not leave me standing like a lemon in the playground, having to choose between a) chasing after you and 10 other boys looking like a wilde woman or b) screaming your name and demanding you come home with me knowing full while it will have zero effect. It’s always a tough call, and one that comes around a little too frequently for my liking!
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