On Saturday Mr.A and I deposited our baby with her grandparents and hot-footed it to an evening wedding do. This was the first time we have ever left her anywhere for longer than 2 hours and although she is generally quite personable I was a little anxious. The anxiety, it turned out, had nothing to do with whether Lily would behave herself and be dazzling company; but all to do with me missing her and feeling like one of my very useful limbs had been severed.
With the help of an enormous amount of booze, the actual party was manageable but Sunday was not. I woke at 8.00, even though I only went to bed at 4.00, and had ants in my pants all morning, trying to ignore the very physical 'missing Lily' pangs I felt like little knife stabs in my chest.
What will I be like when she decides to leave home?
Tuesday, 10 June 2008
Thursday, 5 June 2008
Trumpets and Snorkles
I've been kicking myself into next week about forgetting the camera on our first visit to the beach last sat. Missy LLT just loved the feel of sand between her toes and in her sandwiches and I kept seeing these fantastic photo opportunities as her and her Daddy paddled in the slightly brownish-looking sea. I don't think I will have any problem enticing my water baby in to the waves once we get some warmer weather and some cleaner waters.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
Self Congratulatory
Andy and I are repeatedly blown away by what a beautiful thing we have created.
Even on my most exhausting of days; when I spend every moment from 7.00am willing 7.00pm to arrive, it is more than likely that once she is safely tucked up we will spend most of the evening flicking through photos of Lily, watching our home movies of Lily and just generally chit-chatting about Lily and how very wonderful she is.
Sickening isn't it?
It makes me immensely proud to see this happy, charming, funny, independent little creature stand before me; chatting loudly, kissing generously and laughing freely.
Ahoy Me Hearties!
Lily has been lent a fabulous pirate ship paddling pool and she absolutely loves it. The weather here is hot, hot, hot, for a change and perfect for hoisting the mainsail and shivering her timbers. I wanted to record that we have had a least one warm week so far and that we are definitely making the most of the sunshine.
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Play Group
My baby has a place at the Steiner playgroup. Makes her feel like she is a very big grown up girl indeed, makes me feel like a big old hippy. Having assessed the fellow playgroup-goers I might have made a mistake naming her something quite so sweet and simple as Lily; if I'd had known she had to fit in next to a Tamaris, Magdalena and Cyril I would have opted for something altogether different last Saturday...Bathsheba springs to mind.
Monday, 5 May 2008
Birthday Girl
Happy Birthday Beautiful Lily.
My, how the time has flown by, seems like only yesterday you were a tiny dot in your Mama's arms and now you are this joyous little banana shouting creature we see before us.
It was a lovely hot day and we picniced in the park and played on the swings. Your Godfather baked you muffins and we all sang happy birthday rather untunefully.
You laughed a lot and ate many daisys.
I hope all your days will be as delightful as this one.
My, how the time has flown by, seems like only yesterday you were a tiny dot in your Mama's arms and now you are this joyous little banana shouting creature we see before us.
It was a lovely hot day and we picniced in the park and played on the swings. Your Godfather baked you muffins and we all sang happy birthday rather untunefully.
You laughed a lot and ate many daisys.
I hope all your days will be as delightful as this one.
The Naming of Names
We named Lily on Saturday.
Of course she has had a name for quite some time now, being a full One Years Old and all but something has long been nagging me about the importance of ceremonies, marking occasions and honouring rites of passage. I have been wanting to celebrate Lily's arrival and her name since she appeared but it has taken us this long to remove our heads from our backsides and make it happen.
The day turned out just splendidly and it was also an opportunity to formally introduce her godparents or 'supporters' as I am reliably informed is the correct non-religious title. It was just a joy to be surrounded by all our closest friends and family and watch them laugh and drink and eat together, getting slowly sozzled under the apple tree.
My father (who is a very fine man indeed and a published poet) wrote this poem, which made me cry:
It's May, and the blossom's off the tree, my Lily,
but not for you, though generations gather
around you. Light is playing in your hair,
and splintering in bubbles of champagne,
for this is your naming of names.
There was a day when our fathers left the forest
for holes in distant hills. The Shaman said,
"Will you be more than a herd, or a flight of birds?
How will you be different?" We could not answer
until he gave us names.
Beneath the standing boulders, gods of stone,
our tribe assembled. We had not yet dreamed
of billions howling in a swollen world.
One mother held her child, one father sang,
we drank to the gift of names.
Once more we've gathered, looking through glass, not stone,
through envious lenses can not catch us here.
and I, a relic from an earlier scene,
may spill rough verses on a tolerant crowd
who drink to Lily August.
In the faint fantastic glow of an evening sun.
I watch her grow into a silhouette
that I may never see. The film of my mind
snap-snaps at images not yet created,
time's gift to Lily August.
May she have whatever she needs to have,
and may she love whoever she ought to love,
and may she hold her children out to be named
but this is Lily August's naming day,
so drink to Lily August.
Of course she has had a name for quite some time now, being a full One Years Old and all but something has long been nagging me about the importance of ceremonies, marking occasions and honouring rites of passage. I have been wanting to celebrate Lily's arrival and her name since she appeared but it has taken us this long to remove our heads from our backsides and make it happen.
The day turned out just splendidly and it was also an opportunity to formally introduce her godparents or 'supporters' as I am reliably informed is the correct non-religious title. It was just a joy to be surrounded by all our closest friends and family and watch them laugh and drink and eat together, getting slowly sozzled under the apple tree.
My father (who is a very fine man indeed and a published poet) wrote this poem, which made me cry:
It's May, and the blossom's off the tree, my Lily,
but not for you, though generations gather
around you. Light is playing in your hair,
and splintering in bubbles of champagne,
for this is your naming of names.
There was a day when our fathers left the forest
for holes in distant hills. The Shaman said,
"Will you be more than a herd, or a flight of birds?
How will you be different?" We could not answer
until he gave us names.
Beneath the standing boulders, gods of stone,
our tribe assembled. We had not yet dreamed
of billions howling in a swollen world.
One mother held her child, one father sang,
we drank to the gift of names.
Once more we've gathered, looking through glass, not stone,
through envious lenses can not catch us here.
and I, a relic from an earlier scene,
may spill rough verses on a tolerant crowd
who drink to Lily August.
In the faint fantastic glow of an evening sun.
I watch her grow into a silhouette
that I may never see. The film of my mind
snap-snaps at images not yet created,
time's gift to Lily August.
May she have whatever she needs to have,
and may she love whoever she ought to love,
and may she hold her children out to be named
but this is Lily August's naming day,
so drink to Lily August.
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