Patisserie, high wind and strange doings.

1. To buy up the last of the macarons for tomorrow's game. I always like going into La Roche, the patisserie on the corner, because I like to see the bright and fanciful cakes arranged on the cold white marble counters.

2. A rush and a scutter of leaves blows past me on the road home.

3. I warn Alec that there are all sorts of strange things on the High Street (it's late night shopping). We peer into a jewellers and see a wicked witch and a fairy godmother. "I'm a nice witch, really," she says and to prove it hands Alec a bag of chocolate. And then Father Christmas appears. "His eyes are like saucers," she says.

Postcards, parcels and self-sufficient.

1. Postcards arrive. Alec won't let me read his. He informs me "It says: Dear Alec, how are you?"
I read Bettany's for her -- Grannie misses her and Alec.
Alec brings his over to the sofa. "Does it say she misses me?"

2. There are also parcels -- a secret Christmas present, some bean bags that I ordered off Etsy, that I have to whisk away from Alec and a large box of chocolates (ditto).

3. Every week Bettany lies on her blanket and watches us do Alec's ballet class. She is very patient and doesn't even mind when we gallop off down to the other end of the room. It reminds me of the self-sufficiency we thought we detected in her when she was first born, and it reminds me why we call her bundle -- because she seems to come bundled with everything she needs.

Saving the day, fighting back and leaf fall.

1. I've been up again and again in the night, what with one thing and another and I feel as if I have been nursing non-stop. I am worn out and utterly despondent. Alec wakes up, whines for bub and when I say no, takes a deep preparatory breath. "Stop that! Please don't shout," I tell him.
He stops, sits up, snuggles in close and pats my arm. "It's all right," he says.
I stop, too, and manage a smile.
"Have I saved the day?" (I wish I could express the inflection).
"You've saved the day."

2. "No, Charlie, not the baby!" This is the sort of cry I hear quite often wherever toddlers gather. I tell the mother that it's absolutely fine, that Bettany has seen much worse. He pats her face, she waves her hands and smiles and it's all rather adorable, until she gives his nose a good gumming.

3. The Grove is suddenly -- finally -- naked. Autumn was very nice, but it's winter now and time for bare trees and cold, dirty colours.

Pearly whites, turning a corner and siblings.

1. "Let's have a look at those beautiful teeth," says the dentist as Alec climbs on to the chair.

2. I'm definitely spending less time bubbing than I was, and Bettany is more self-sufficient than ever. While she lies on a blanket rustling a piece of tissue paper I clear a shelf that has been collecting clutter since the week she was born. I also find the time to give Alec's toys a quick organise, which he will appreciate (not in words, but by playing with things that he hasn't used for a while).

3. Alec has had a busy day, what with the dentist and then a visit from granny newly home from her holidays. He has a melt-down while I am bubbing Bettany in the run-up to bathtime. I end up nursing them both on the sofa. Bettany twines her fingers in Alec's hair, and Alec reaches up to hold her hand.

Letter, Christmas box and kneading.

1. "What shall I put?"
"I would like a fire engine -- a toy one," says Alec.
"And I'll put that you've been good this year, you've got a new baby sister and you've learnt to use the pot." I like having a natural opportunity to remind him of the great things he's achieved in the last 12 months. Later he and Nick will take the letter down to the post box.

2. To bring down the December 1 box and unpack the Christmas books. To squirrel away a few decorations to share with Alec over the next few days (the little German Christmas tree and the änglaspel*). To enjoy the splashes of red from my Christmas apron and the Christmas blanket. To put a wreath on the front door.

3. Kneading bread dough with my right hand as well as my left hand -- my right arm is definitely getting stronger again.

* It's called a rotary candle holder in English, but I think the Swedish is much more charming.

On a blanket, help is on its way and nesting.

1. We have a family photo session with Polly Coupée. It is hard to relax until we all lie on a blanket to be photographed from above. There is so much wriggling and laughter that we hardly notice what is happening overhead.

2. The boiler is now leaking. I leave a message for the landlord and within moments, it seems, he appears at the door with a ladder and all the DIY know-how we don't possess.

3. To come home early from the walk -- it's so very cold -- and sneak upstairs with Bettany and the tablet. I give her a quiet, cosy, focussed, uninterrupted feed.

Grace, listening in and being boys.

1. Alec falls off a chair while I'm in the shower. With bad grace (because the hot water has been unreliable these last few days) I give him a damp cuddle and an arnica pillule. Afterwards I apologise for not being properly sympathetic. He says "But you gave me a cuddle and I felt better".

2. To sit in a cafe with Bettany and half listen to the conversations around us (some of which run along the lines of  "awww, bless her..." and "...such big eyes...".

3. When I pick up Alec from nursery I am told that towards the end of the day they opened all the rooms up and let the boys run around "just being boys. They encourage each other, shouting and jumping and when one gets tired the others wake him up." I think I'd have liked to see (and hear) it!

Are we, tiny adventure and booking up.

1. Alec asking -- again -- if we are going to the Natural History Museum this afternoon.

2. To step from an appointment into the misty afternoon. I cuddle Bettany close in to me and wonder what we should do with our free time.

3. To book up a visit to Father Christmas for Nick and Alec.

Joining in, in the other room and wide eyes.

1. There is a dear funny little girl at ballet who is as tall as Alec but much more sturdy. She waggles a severe finger at her naughty toes and smiles at her good toes but then frowns because they have not complied. She is not the best mover, but she is turner upper and a joiner inner and she will go far in life with that.

2. The sound of Alec playing with a train in the other room while we drink tea.

3. To notice that Bettany's gummy eye is wide and bright once again. I treated it with a squirt of my own milk, as recommended by the health visitor

Not going, megatherium and pterodactyls.

1. At the imposing front entrance of the 'Natricity Museum' Alec loses his nerve and says he doesn't want to go in and see the dinosaurs. We promise him that there are plenty of other things to see and that he needn't look at dinosaurs, and he is happy with that.

2. I stop startled at a megatherium skeleton posed with a tree trunk as if it is munching on some high foliage. I knew they were large (giant sloth, see) and elephant-sized, but I hadn't processed the idea of an elephant-sized sloth. While I am staring I lose Nick and Alec. I find a glyptodon skeleton and lose them even more while I am picturing an ice age swamp abounding with car-sized armadillos.

3. Pterodactyls fossilised in sheets of rock in a tangle of wings and limbs like insects on a windscreen.

Slow down, end of autumn and what are you doing.

1. Alec complains that his scooter goes too fast down hill. I make a suggestion. He gives it a try and I feel as if my heart will burst at the stylish way he uses his scooting foot to touch the orange brake.

2. The beeches in their end of autumn colours look like the heart of a log fire.

3. A particularly sanctimonious parenting feed on Facebook asks us to say what our children are doing right now -- "It gives such a wonderful snapshot of play!" My honest answer would be "Watching television and eating cake." I don't offer it up -- who needs a bunch of insecure sanctimummies lecturing you about activities more wholesome than TV?

Baking, breaking an egg and cheered up.

1. "This is pastry, son, not cakies. This is proper cooking."

2. Alec taps his egg as he's been taught, and puts his thumbs in. The yolk and white fall perfectly -- and then he throws the shell into the bowl after them.

3. Bettany is arching her back and grumbling as I change her. I turn my back for a moment and when I turn back she has done a tiny poo on the towel and is smiling and blowing raspberries as if she's never known a moment's hardship.

Company, stay away and tea merchants.

1. Louise comes and sits with me while I bub Bettany. It's good to finally chat while my mind is (relatively) unoccupied.

2. Alec holds my hand firmly and says I am not to go any nearer the large animatronic Tyrannosaurus rex in the toy shop "because it's a meat eater, Mummy".

3. The owners of Perk and Pearl, the new tea and coffee merchants round the corner greet Alec like an old friend. Last week they offered him a taster of fudge and now anyone who takes him walking is escorted in -- just, you  know, on the off-chance that there is another free sample available.

3b. I'd forgotten how much I like lapsang souchong -- the osprey variety we had for tea was particularly good, lots of smoke, not so much bitterness.

4. One I forgot from Friday: The Tunbridge Wells webcomic Miriam's Daily Adventures has gone a bit noirish recently as Miriam unravels a doppelganger mystery. I spend a happy few minutes catching up while Alec enjoys spotting local landmarks.

A pink foot, one line and the whale.

1. When I turn back to Bettany she has a pink foot in her mouth and a blissful expression on her face.

2. Meredith brings a box of Paul's macaroons. "You do one line," she says, "And I'll do the other."

3. I tell Alec about Jonah and the Whale and he recounts the story back to me -- except that it's Alec who gets swallowed by the whale, and it's 'Mummy' doing the telling, not God.

To look, noticed and our anniversary.

Fourth Wedding Anniversary

1. I am glad to wait because it gives me time to look and look at my sleeping baby with her features sleep soft and translucent.

2. "They wouldn't do well in the wild, would they, babies. They're completely helpless," says the physiotherapist as if it has never occurred to him before. Bettany spends my treatment lying on a blanket practising her rolling and smiling whenever I catch her eye.

3. It's our fourth wedding anniversary. We mark it with Champagne and boxes of sushi in the front room. It is very romantic and sophisticated (apart from Bettany rolling around blowing raspberries in the background).

Picture by Katherine Pope

Push, wakeful and soothing.

1. "Push my chair in!"
But I'm bubbing Bettany on the other side of the kitchen. "I can't reach you. You'll just have to stretch until I've finished."
He puts his feet against the table and shoves so the chair slides away from the table and towards me. "Now can you reach?"
This makes me laugh and I scoot my nursing chair in his direction.

2. I'm about to get back to work when I hear a sad little voice calling for me. "I want you to stay up here. I'm sad all on my own," and then he's asleep again.

3. Bettany is struggling with wind. To pick her up and hold her and kiss her through her flossy hair and to jiggle her until she falls asleep again.

Tea in bed, distract and towers.

1. The offer of morning tea in bed.

2. Because Janey is here to distract Alec I can clear the lunch things completely, rather than piling everything into slidey towers on the work top.

3. To marvel at Alec as he leans long Duplo 'ladders' on precarious building block towers. He didn't have had the fine motor skills to do this a month ago.

How it works, good work and babysitter.

1. "...and my shoes are getting smaller so Bettany can wear them..." says Alec when I tell him that his old shoes have now gone away.

2. When I comment to next door's roofer that the storm must have created a bit of work for him he shrugs and says sadly "Yeah, but it's other people's misery, isn't it."

3. We leave Janey in charge of the children (one asleep, one watching silently with wide blue eyes) and go up the road to the pub where we have one drink and talk mainly about the children.

Flashing shoes, lorry and hanging on.

1. I have been secretly longing to buy Alec a pair of those shoes with flashing lights because... well because they weren't available when I was little and how cool is it to have flashing lights on your shoes? But they weren't available in his size, and then they weren't available in the style that fit him best... today however, he and Nick return from the library swinging a shoe shop bag. Little red lights flicker on Alec's shoes. "We got halfway up the hill," explains Nick, "and he complained that his feet hurt so we dropped into Jones and they measured him." He's gone up two sizes since September.

2. The lorry driver at the ice rink because he let Alec and Nick climb up into his cab. "And I pressed the horn because there was a car coming HOOOOONNNNNNKKKK!"
"And it was a properly big lorry," says Nick, "We had to climb up to here," he indicates the level of his head.

3. The autumn leaves that still hang on bravely into grey November for our viewing pleasure. Warm yellow leaves shimmering on a birch tree stand out today, and berry-red leaves on suburban acers.

Breakfast together, get out and stash.

1. At getting up time Bettany is still in a deep sleep following her unusual dawn feed. Alec and I go down to breakfast. He sits colouring until I am ready for his help with breaking eggs and stirring batter. In the past few weeks we've noticed that he has become a lot less intense and less demanding -- sad in a way because he it means he is less of a baby; but it does make him easier to live with.

2. I sometimes (often) don't do things that I really want to do because it is so much effort to get out of the house. Today I have Nick to help me get ready, which makes it less of a mission; and I am meeting Katie and her girls, which gives me the kick in the pants I need to get moving.

3. While searching for a tin to put the parkin in I discover a secret (forgotten) stash of Cadbury's chocolate cake bars. Yum yum yum.

Pear, not my place and free mince pie.

1. To peel a very small pear and share it with Alec.

2. I put Bettany down on Alec's side of the bed and she giggles as if she thinks we're doing something naughty.

3. To find a free mince pie in our Abel and Cole box. And later, to go through the Christmas catalogue with Nick.

Trim, pot and shoulder.

1. Alec's lovely hairdresser turns her special tractor seat round so he can look out into the street while she works. (If you're looking for a child-friendly hairdresser in Tunbridge Wells, I recommend Cutz on Grosvenor Road).

2. I take Alec to the loo and offer him the pot. He says no. I ask him if he's sure, and remind him that the last few times we've eaten out he has asked to go just as our food arrived. "I not ask to go before lunch EVER EVER again," he assures me.

3. "...and you can stop protecting it," says the physio. For the first time in months my shoulders go back. It's partly because he's explained what's going wrong -- and partly relief because I've finally got treatment.

Reflection, not needed and mystery package.

1. To spot the reflections of a particularly good sunset on west-facing buildings, and to meander through the village looking for a viewing spot. And to hear Alec saying: "Look at the orange in the sky!" He told me there was no pink or grey, though (he was not entirely correct in this assertion).

2. Nick is late and both children are asleep. For an hour, no-one needs me.

3. A parcel arrives after 8pm and I can't remember what it is. I'm bubbing Bettany on the sofa so I have to wait and see (it's Christmas cards and rolls of wrapping paper from my Phoenix supplier).

Back at you, paperwhites and tactics.

1. Alec asks to watch a DVD. I am eating my breakfast and I think it's too early for watching TV and too early to debate this point so I tell him that I don't know how to work the DVD player.
"Mummy after breakfast you must practise and practise and practise until you can," he tells me earnestly.

2. Sarah, Anna and I meet to plant up paperwhites. It's becoming a bit of an annual tradition -- we started doing it because we wanted to remember Elspeth Thompson. We all loved her writing and her style and she was kind enough to encourage me in my writing career. We still miss her and are still mourning this friendship that might have been. The paperwhites are for me a pure white light in a dark time of year, and I plant them up because I know from her books that Elspeth loved them in her house at midwinter.*

3. To hear two mothers who are a bit further ahead than us cackling with laughter as they describe phoning their husbands when the children were crying just to make the point that being at home with toddlers is the hardest work you will ever do.

*This is a rotten time of year if you suffer from self-destructive thoughts -- please talk to someone, don't walk alone. There is an international directory of suicide prevention hotlines here for anyone that needs it.

Searching, hand over and in from the car.

1. We wake late but can't quite believe it and go searching round the house for Nick.

2. On a Monday so dark and wet that it looks like 4pm even before we've had breakfast to hand over most responsibilities to my mother. She even comes and picks us up.

3. My father brings sleeping Alec, shod feet dangling, in from the car and takes him straight upstairs to bed.

Forgiven, brights and a sound.

1. At 7.34am Alec comes back downstairs and tells me that Daddy says he doesn't have any sweets in his attic. I apologise and say that I was mistaken in my previous assertion. He climbs into bed beside me and asks for a cuddle.

2. The trees are almost bare but the leaves still left are all kinds of bright where the low-angled sun hits them -- green, some of them, lemon yellow, crisp brown, orange.

3. Before Alec started talking he used to make a lovely sound when he discovered something surprising that he liked. He never does it any more. This evening in the bath I built a tower out of some plastic containers and lids from his bath toy bag. When he saw what I was doing, he made that noise.

Gift of time, Katie's faces and out of the rain.

1. To give Nick a lie-in and then take the children away for lunch so he can have some quiet time.

2. To see Baby Loey doing Katie's expressions, and once, she looked just like Katie's mother.

3. To hurry through the rain with Alec safe in the pushchair bubble and Bettany in the sling peeping out of the top of my waterproof.

Menu, sitting still and exit.

1. "And we'll go to Wagamama and you'll have fish fingers..." (they call them cod cubes in panko breadcrumbs with amai sauce, but they are fish fingers with tomato sauce as far as Alec is concerned and he always asks for them. Once I dropped him off at nursery still clutching a cod cube because I was unable to prise his fingers open to remove it).
"I want spaghetti."
So he tries noodles instead -- I'm rather impressed that he remembered the other food choices as we don't go that often.

2. I spend the afternoon tanking Bettany up because I want to leave her for a couple of hours this evening. It is absolute bliss to sit down on the sofa with her and not feel I ought to be doing something else. This is where I am meant to be.

3. To burst free from the evening house leaving Alec and Bettany and bedtime in Nick's arms. I'm on my way to hear Chris Packham talk about conservation and photography; and to talk grown-up talk with Caroline during the interval.

Left foot, dungeon crawl and castle.

1. Bettany sucking her left foot with a very smug look on her face -- she has been fussing about it all morning, grunting at the effort of it and rolling over by accident

2. Meredith apologises for a short adventure, but I enjoyed my old school dungeon crawl with plentiful loot, lots of traps and shambling monsters, though I still seem to be rolling too many ones and twos and I came away with a mummy's curse. The curse is a great hook for next time.

3. At nursery they've been playing with a wooden castle all afternoon. She says: "I found it in the basement. I mended it and found a dragon and a queen and some knights." The dragon appears to be a dinosaur -- but I know Alec is very fond of knights and castles (and dinosaurs, too, for that matter).

Laughing, wind in the chimney and key.

1. Why is Bettany laughing when I push Alec on the swing?  I wish she could tell me (Alec is laughing, too, but he always laughs on the swing).

2. The sound of the wind rustling the plastic bag full of newspapers I've stuffed up the chimney to block out draughts.

3. The faint chink of Nick getting his key out on the other side of the front door.