Category: journal

A catch-all for the day-to-day meanderings of these parents-to-be

slightly less delightful

P1050972In the meteorological sense, that is: it started to rain as I stepped out this morning. Neve and Lola remain as delightful as ever. Though Isa may not be agreeing at present as Neve woke at 06:00 this morning and would not be cajoled back to sleep. And, by the time I left at 06:40, Lola was also awake (Neve having kindly taken her her rice milk. It’s going to be a long day…

Neve can now say, “Mama,” and “Dada,” and “Lola” — the latter in her own special way which I am unable to transliterate. She also, like Lola before her, like to do “Cheers!” (“chszz”) with her beaker. Seems quite civilised, you might think, until you see her grabbing fistfuls of
cottage pie and smearing the contents in and around her mouth.

Hearing her shout for her food is quite something. If the food is not ready when she expects it — say you put her in her chair and then go to dish out her food — she’ll be shouting Mama or YumYum and jumping up and down making excited noises. Much delay and she’ll be crying, shouting. During a meal, every time something new is brought to the table she’ll be pointing excitedly, wanting to try. If it’s something she knows she likes, the excitement is intense. When she finishes and wants more, she’ll hold out her empty bowl: “yum-yum, yum-yum!”

a-wobbler

Neve at Rosie's birthday party The enduring image of Neve at the moment has her walking backwards and forwards in a wobbly manner carrying things. Preferably, things that are just a little too heavy. And then finding a step or ledge upon which she can sit.

She loves to chase, or be chased around the sitting-room/hall/kitchen circuit — and Lola is happy to oblige. Or she’ll go on a trip around the kitchen table with a little bag with some interesting items in, waving goodbye with a “Ciaii” and then waving hello with a big grin as she rounds the table.

wah, heat

Nonna and Stefania have now gone home after being with us for three weeks. Three sweltering hot weeks — we’ve not seen a summer like this since the year Lola was born. It was absolutely lovely to have them here; Lola was over the moon to have ‘Tefi to play with every day. Isa and I were over the moon to have Cesarina extending her calm, “get stuff done” aura over the otherwise frequently frenetic and fraught Hooper lifestyle. Neve was just over the moon.

gli italiane

Cesarina and Stefi arrived a few days before Lola’s fourth birthday: it was to some extent the reason for Stefi’s visit or, at least, the timing of it. We’d decided to hold the event in the playground between the end of Stourbridbge Grove and the common, and to lay a trail of balloons from our house, through the back, across the common. A plan which would have been more successful if a) the herd of bullocks hadn’t decided to hang out on the relevant section of the common and b) we’d finished the trail and decamped before all the guests arrived.

Of course, these things never go to plan. Almost everyone had arrived before we’d left the house and the one or two who hadn’t encountered Isa or me scurrying between the house and playground.

It was a scorchingly hot day, as were most during the Italians’ visit, which made trundling a wheelbarrow full of party fare across dungy hillocks past curious bullocks both surreal and deeply enervating.

All good fun, though. The playground was empty save a group of laconic youths playing basketball and the kids had a great time chasing each other around the comparitively (to our garden) vast playground. We’d even organised a few games (knowing Stefano was coming!) — Lola had wanted a “monster” party, so we’d bought some fun fur and cut it into scraps and fitted elastic to it so it could be strapped to limbs, torsos, heads, and thus monsters created. It turned out that many came as, or subsequently became, fairies, too. So games where monsters chased fairies, and vice versa, ensued.

There was also a more traditional egg and spoon race, and a rope knotted for tug of war which found other uses. Nor were the chairs we’d carted down there used for musical chairs. But I did give a quick rendition of a song or two on my guitar.

I’d made a cake: plain fatless sponge with a whipped cream and raspberry filling and lemon icing. Quite yummy, if a little uninspired in the shape department. Nothing has really beaten the monkey cake we did for her first birthday.

Oh, darn. I’ve run out of steam. Again.

dinosaurs and old age

So, we’re going to the zoo for Lola’s birthday and she wanted to know if there would be dinosaurs there. So I explained, as best I could in terms a newly-four-year-old might understand, the current absence of dinosaurs. Which led to a discussion of what we would do if a planet hit us now (“would they put us in a museum?” and “would they take our skin off first?”). Which led to death in general and how all people die eventually — of old age if nothing gets them sooner. Which led Lola to surmise that I might die soon as:

“You’re getting old ‘cos your foots are all rusty.”

Oooooooo-dahh!

neve the gardener Such is Neve’s current favourite vocalisation. Or it least it was a week or so ago; it’s possible that now it is *our* favourite vocalisation and she has moved on, wondering why on earth Mum, Dad and Lola have abdicated from proper speech to wander round the house calling, “Ooooooooooo-dah!”

Neve is now, of course, awfully grown up, having reached the grand age of one a couple of weeks back. We had a lovely party on the day with all the old Thursday group and Tom, Esther and Grace.

Neve and Lola in the paddling pool This weekend has been a scorcher — let’s hope it doesn’t represent the entire summer — and Neve has been as happy as Larry (probably: I’d have to admit I’ve never actually met Larry). We got the paddling pool out and she and Lola had a great time playing in there. Neve has learnt to stand, and she would pull herself up on the sides of the pool and stand until she lost her balance and fell back on her bum with a splash. She liked that.

Then, on Sunday, we moved her cot into Lola’s room (henceforth, “the girls’ room”) and she slept there the night. For the first time in four years, Isa and I had the bedroom to ourselves: a very odd feeling but one we could get used to!

Neve the Beve

Neve is in an adorable phase. She’s nothing but big toothy grins. She leans forward to accept a kiss, often inviting one herself. She has a wide range of conversational vocal sounds, though no actual words save for prototype mama and dada noises. She says “Hiya” a great deal (so perhaps she does have a word), and “Oooo Dah”. She laughs if you play peekaboo or similar. She loves to hava a bath; and she really loves to roll and jump around on our bed.

A weekend in Cambridge

Up. Croissants for breakfast. Fixing TV to wall with £30, “lifetime guarentee” bracket. First drill out two new holes in the universal backing plate as the universe does not actually include our telly. Then work out required height of wall fixing, drill out holes, fix mounting thingy to wall, assemble rest of bracket , hang telly, note sag on bracket means telly to low for tallboy to sit underneath as intended. Confirm this by going upstairs, transferring contents of Neve’s tallboy to the spare (which we plan eventually to ditch), then manouver Neve’s downstairs. Calculation is correct: it doesn’t fit. Unhang telly, disassemble bracket, unscrew mount, drill two new holes, re-fix one vertical-screw-gap higher, reassemble bracket, rehang telly, cofirm tallboy fits easily under. Bodge bracket to stop it presenting telly at 10 degrees off horizontal.

Go for relaxing drive to St Neot’s and its historic beaut Lidl. Rethink decision to take main road there and scenic route back when caught in traffic jam on A483. Manage to cut out after a half-mile/-hour and join intended return route, the B1046. Serendipity. A fine route: good roads, lovely villages and country. I can’t see why anyone would take the big A roads, but I’m glad they do. Lidl’s found and raided: parmesan, olive oil, a waterproof cycling jacket, … All bargains, though a lot of bargains are not cheap. Back downthe 1046. Home around six and Isa’s getting us all fed while I get telly running so Lola can watch a bit of Bianvaneve before bed. Then it’s kids to bed and fractious, weary parents to follow.

Sunday morning and emptying long Ikea sideboard thing we used to use for hifi as Dave is coming to pick it up: we’re offloading it. He comes, we load it up, I go with him to help him decant. Back and Isa is distraught and ready to take kids to park: Neve must sleep,Lola must stop whingibg, I MUST COME, TOO!

Trundle-trundle, swing-swing, Zzzzzzz, trundle-trundle, and we’re back. Isa cleaning, me setting up hifi in tallboy. Lunch. Then a change and to the front garden to put gatepost back up. Neve comes out, too, and Lola is playing with Sophie around the various gardens. It’s warm and sunny: the first day of spring. Gatepost done, gates rehung. Minimal spot of weeding then back to sorting front room.

Once hifi working, clear out old chest which was housing waiting hifi kit and repurpose as toy chest. Isa takes over rearranging room while i put seed potatoes out to chit and make some dinner. Pretty relaxed dinner followed by the usual, but slightly later than usual, bedtime routine. Downstairs again and Isa and I rewatch the excellent gangster film with Jude Law and Paul Newman about the hitman father and his son, the name of which escapes me, of course.

And then to bed.