Monday 25 July 2011

Today's the day?

Today is meant to be the day Blodwyn is born, but of course, I'm 170 miles away on a Writers' Holiday in the Land of his Great Grandmothers.

A text to Giovanna, enquiring after her status, has informed me she had pains at 4.30 this morning. Since then, nothing. I'm in a quandary, part of me not wishing continual discomfort on her, the other part willing her to hold on. It would be lovely to hear of Blod's safe arrival, but it would be nice to be there on day 1.

Giovanna jokes that her birth is the only time in her life she wasn't late for something. Time will tell if her son takes after her.

Ultimately, he'll come when he comes.


Will Blod take after his mummy?







Friday 22 July 2011

Trigger's Moses Basket.


Last night I put together little Blodwyn's Moses basket. Both his mummy and Uncle Jack slept in it, so it's a bit of an heirloom.  I had to buy a new stand, mattress, sheets and blankets. The basket and covers are fine - apart from a little overstretched elastic which can be easily replaced.

One generation down the line though, maybe Blod, or one of his siblings or cousins, will be replacing the covers, or deciding the basket's a bit worn. Another generation on, things may be replaced for the second or third time. Then it'll be like Trigger's broom - it's lasted four generations, but had two baskets, four mattresses, four sets of covers, three stands...

But for now, half of it is original.

Three days(ish) to go.

Monday 18 July 2011

Great Grandfather TC and the problem of names.

It's been a long haul finding a (real) name for Blodwyn Bubaloo. In the early days, looking at Welsh names, Giovanna came up with Myfanwy and JW liked Dylan. I had to point out that Dylan is pronounced 'Dullan' in Welsh, and Myfanwy is as old-fashioned as Ethel. Another name toyed with was Aaron. That's guaranteed to cause confusion on the pronunciation front. It used to be pronounced 'Airon', which is how Giovanna said it, but these days people say 'Arun'. Why, I wonder? If you want to call your child that, why not just spell it Arun, or Aran, or Arran. You get the idea.

I had an email from my father-in-law, Great Grandad TC today, on the subject of names. Seems he's worried what Giovanna and JW might come up with for his great-grand sprog. He's afraid Posh and Becks might have started a trend.

'We've heard of the Shrewsbury Two,' he told me. 'We all know of the Champagne Four of course,' (our nickname for ourselves and our spouses!). 'Then there's the Renault Five (guilty as hell we always thought!) - the Birmingham Six - but the Harper Seven?'

He has a point. It does sound rather like a crime syndicate. However, he thinks it, 'Sounds more like a detergent cleansing fluid.'

I pointed out that he'd forgotten the Weatherfield One and Ocean's Eleven. Then it struck me. 'Oceans Eleven'. What a great name! Now where's my daughter's number?

Seven days(ish) to go!

Saturday 16 July 2011

Meet the Fockers

I’m glad to report that the ‘Meet the Fockers’ evening went well – not at all like the film. As I suspected, they are as crazy as us. I was told beforehand by JW that at family functions they're split up because they laugh too much. This I can believe. 

It helped that the soon-to-be grandads both come from the same place ‘oop north’ and have a similar profession. Many bizarre-incidents-at-work stories followed. They never got onto music, but I’m assured the other grandad is as keen as my husband on all things ‘hifi’. They’re what you might call Northern Stereo – Types. (Don’t blame me for that – it was on a birthday card I sent my husband a couple of years ago.)

It always breaks the ice to hear funny stories about the offsprings’ childhoods, and us grandmas had plenty. Uncles Peter and Jack, along with JW's sister, Aunty J, also put their two penn'orth in. Not that Giovanna and JW appreciated it. Spoilsports. What’s not to love about sons weeing in the corner of their room because they were half asleep and thought they were in the bathroom? Or that your daughter has a phobia against little round things like beads which started as a hatred of peas when she was a tot? (She blames me for that one, as I apparently told her not to put them up her nose in case she choked. That’s sensible, isn’t it?)


At least now my husband and I will recognise our opposite numbers when we see them at the hospital. Nine days to go. Give or take.



Thursday 14 July 2011

Timing

A few days ago, and with two official weeks to go, the midwife told Giovanna, 'Only four weeks at the most.'

It wasn't what she wanted to hear.

'I feel like I'm going to explode!' she complained to me last night. 'I'm ready to have it now.'

It does look like someone's suddenly blown a whole load of air into her bump.

I hope she produces a little early too, as I am away on a writing holiday on her due date. It was all planned a year ago. I have struggled with my conscience. But you know what? I bet if I'd cancelled, Blodwyn would have been late. I'm only going to be in Wales. If need be, I'll get a train back for the day. Anyway, there's not a lot you can do while they're in hospital. Giovanna doesn't seem troubled by my possible short term absence.

My friends and I did threaten to take her with us, being a writer herself. There's an 'ysbyty' across the road from the uni where we're staying (hospital, for the benefit of the unWelsh). She could have popped along when she felt ready to 'pop', as it were.

The only problem is, if Blodwyn does arrive while I'm away, then every year his birthday will be during the writers' holiday. Now that will be a dilemma.

Come on Blod, hurry up!

Babies - A whole new excuse to shop

The one thing all the grandmas have in common? They've all been busy acquiring clothing and equipment for little Blodwyn Bubaloo. Just when you think you've run out of reasons to go shopping - along comes a new one!

Even Giovanna's sister, Aunty C, has been trawling the charity shops with my step mother-in-law. They've come up with some lovely stuff, dinky all-in-ones, shorts and t-shirts with doggies and bears on. Clothes that look like they've never been worn, quite frankly.

In actual fact, I've done little shopping so far. The reason? I am more of a hoarder than I thought. Take the nappy situation. Giovanna decided she was going to use eco nappies, shaped like disposables, but washable. I used them 20 odd years ago and thought they were fab. With the pram, cot and high chair already taken care of by the other grandmas, I said we'd buy them for her. I'm glad my husband made it into the loft first. I still have all the eco nappies up there, every one, all in good condition. Who'd have thought? There was also a whole range of clothes, neatly packed in old disposable nappy boxes with ages scrawled on the side in felt pen.

'These are great,' said Giovanna, surveying the pile of pastels. 'They have history. I like that.' Then she noticed the green and lilac striped shorts and matching mauve top. 'Mmm. Not sure about these. They're a bit - way out. And these.' She pointed to another set. 'I'm not sure about lilac for a boy.'

'What do you mean?' I replied. 'They're cute.'

'Some things don't stand the test of time.'

Oh well, maybe I'll have to sneak them on when I'm baby sitting.

You're going to be a grandma (or great grandma!)

When Giovanna told me she was pregnant I was far more laid back than she expected. What can you do when your daughter announces she's with child, even when it's sooner than you expected? But maybe my reaction was a little too underplayed?

The other grandmas were not so unforthcoming in their reactions.

JW's mother, new to grandmotherhood like myself, apparently burst into tears. Ahh. Well, I'm guessing it was 'ahh', and not 'oh dear'! Yes, I'm certain it was.

My own mother-in-law, 'Great-Gran', was over the moon. She is a little shell-shocked at being the first great-grandmother in the group, as she keeps telling me, even though she wasn't the first grandmother. Other than that, she's enjoying all the updates.

My step mother-in-law got so excited when we told her, she spilled a whole glass of champagne over my husband. Sacrilege darling!

I wonder how my own mum would have felt. I'm sad she's not here to see. She would have been as thrilled as his other grandmas, I'm sure.

Crazy Uncles

Tonight is going to be our 'Meet the Fockers' evening. That is, the first time we've met little Blod's other grandparents, mum and dad of Giovanna's partner, JW.

It sounds like their family might be as mad as ours. I'm not sure if that's good or bad. Giovanna's brothers, Uncle Peter and Uncle Jack are vying for spot as craziest uncle. This is in no small part down to their own Uncle M (soon to be Great-Uncle M!). He's my husband's brother - I take no responsibility for him. He's been the weird and wonderful uncle who has introduced my children to things like sailing, juggling and unicycling. As a young man, when my husband was settling down with a family, he was travelling around the world, coming back full of stories, if none the wiser about the languages he'd encountered. He's always bought the looniest presents - little plastic people you throw at walls so they stick, potty putty that drove my mother-in-law up the wall. One Christmas, having just moved house, he wrapped up a pile of unwanted lamp fittings and shades to give as presents. He thought it was hilarious. Once upon a time he used to refuse to dress up for nice restaurants, favouring holey jumpers and worn jeans.

I guess you'd call that eccentric. Blod's uncles would like to emulate him. They're part way there already.

Friday 8 July 2011

Surprise, surprise

When you've got four children, it's going to happen sometime. Now there's only 17 days to go. Give or take.

I didn't expect it for a few years, but I knew what was coming last December when my no. 3 child, Giovanna, sat me down to 'tell me something'. It had come as a bit of a surprise to her too. She and her partner had not long set up home together and weren't planning this event for a while. Still, there it was, their first baby and my first grandchild.

I wasn't as shocked as she expected. 'That's bad news,' she decided. 'You and dad are always like good cop and bad cop. That means he's going to be the cross one.'

She was wrong. Probably because he couldn't quite take it in. I don't think he has yet. It'll take the appearance of little Blodwyn Bubaloo (my nickname combined with her partner's nickname) to make him realise he's a grandad. Not that he's decided on a name for himself yet.

Me, I decided long ago I was going to be 'Nonna'. My name and that of my daughter might give a clue why. My father was Italian and Nonna is what they call grandmothers in Italy. My husband doesn't fancy Nonno, the male equivalent. I agree it doesn't quite sound right in English. I'm also half Welsh, so I did briefly consider 'Nain' (pron. 'nine'), the male equivalent being 'Taid' (pron. 'tide'), but the Italian side won out.

The only name my husband has come up with so far is 'Grand Sponser'. It is, of course, a joke. I hope.