Author: lolabump

Is Neve going to be left handed? She seems greatly to favour using her
left hand, almost to the point of exclusion of the right. When she’s
practising her Karate moves, it’s always the left that is slicing the
air in front of her eyes. And when little cat gets one on the nose, it’s
always Neve’s fast left hand that delivers.

When little Nevey is not having tummy aches, she likes to chat. She’ll
sit in her bouncer or lie on her changing mat and coo in a convincingly
conversational way, responding to questions and seeimingly putting
effort into reproducing the sounds presented to her.

We don’t remember Lola being at all vocal at this age.

Neve continues to have tummy troubles and spends some considerable time
every day crying in pain, arching and tensing. Often there’s no way to
console her: it’s all about trying to hold her in the ‘correct’ position
and walking around until your back reciprocates with its own agonies.

When she does settle, almost invariably while being held, it’s
impossible to put her down — or even sit — without her waking and the
process starting all over.

She eats well and burps like her father but she’s not so fluent at the
other end, sometimes emitting nothing for days on end except for the
occasional fart. On Tuesday, she did her first poo since the previous
Thursday — I think that’s her record so far for anal reticence.

The amazing thing is that when she’s not hurting she’s a good-natured,
smiley, alert and engaging little girl.

If you’re ever in North Wales and pondering a route home then, assuming
home is somewhere you might get to by first aiming vaguely at
Birmingham, don’t hesitate: take the B4391.

Or, perhaps: don’t, as one of the things I liked about this road as we
drove down it on Monday was the utter lack of traffic. I don’t think we
encountered more than a dozen vehicles in an hour and a half’s driving.
What I liked most, though, was the sheer, raw beauty of the
landscape this route passes through. Running from Ffestiniog nearly all
the way to Shrewsbury (you take the B4393 for the last few miles, but it
takes up the mantle very well), the road starts in the
wild, bleak, craggy land of Snowdonia, and snakes down into the more
cultivated, hillock-strewn terrain of Shropshire. One minute tiny, winding,
and sheep-strewn, threatening to toss you down the sheer side of the
valley; the next looping at speed across a great marshy expanse with
glowering peaks in the distance.

Well, I don’t have the words to evoke it right now; or ever, perhaps. You can see the route here

I’ll have a poolooga and a pilla-nani. And a paruga. Now we need a
koonan. And a malinka.

Having fallen over in the garden: “Sometimes I fall over: I don’t know why…”

Talking of stopping wearing nappies at night: “But when I’m big, I don’t know how, why I’ve got my hands!”

On finding her piggy book behind the radiator: “It was hiding! I don’t know why it was hiding; but it was hiding.”

“But why do you not know why?”

“Why am I little? I don’t want to be little! I want to grow up today!”

“Brown is nasty for babies — they don’t like brown ice-cream.”

“I’m going to run away and you’re going to chase me! Did you know that?”
No, I didn’t.
“Oh — but I just told you!”

Regarding the toothbrush in her pyjama pocket: “Shall I keep it for my life? Maybe not.”

Of a stick she particularly liked: “I’m not going to put it down. I might hog [sic] onto it forever.”

Only three weeks or so until Lola’s sister is due. Lola is *so* excited!
We’re off to the hostable [sic] to get a scan of baby
to see if she’s head down.

.. . .

Oh, dear — she’s in a breech position. Time to get the smelly Chinese
sticks out and start crawling around on all fours.

Isa was in the bathroom today when Lolly rushed off and opened the front
(internal) door. She came back a few seconds later saying, “Look, Mummy,
the piglets have come!” and cupping the imaginary young things in her
outstretched hands. “This one is yours,” she said, then headed off to get
a blanket to wrap her one in. Later, they both went down to the park
with Isa and Lola; luckily, they were able to walk and didn’t need to be
carried.

Lolly-pie went to Bounce Club today and had a excited time playing at
the YMCA with Rosie and Isla and Eddie. Actually, I think it was called
Bubble Club; it’s baby Crunchy (as Lola insists she will be called) who
has been to Bounce Club — she’s been amazing us (and causing a little
internal ouchiness for Isa) with her in-womb shape-throwing. She much
more lively than Lola was — obviously keen to get out and join in the
fun. Lola’s excitement must, I’m sure, make it through the fleshy
wall…

“OK, I sleep now and then maybe one, two three birds come flying up the
night and in the morning the ragwing[sic] comes. And maybe you come in
up to my bed and call Lola! Lola! LOLA! Then I get out and put my
clothes on and my BIG crocs and go out in the garden and see the ragwing
and say ‘hello, ragwing, what you doing? are you eating worms?’ and he
says Yes! I am!. And what now? I need to sleep now and today morning the
ragwing comes and [repeat ad infinitum]”

I wish I’d recorded it; it’s lost something in the transcription. And I
did spy a redwing in the garden this morning. Très joli.