March 2002

We spent yesterday morning at the zoo, with our friends Andy and Sue and their two-year-old son Jasper, who had travelled up from Somerset. It was a gorgeous sunny day, and a public holiday to boot, and by noon the zoo was a zoo.

Every family in London with kids under ten seemed to have had the same idea. We visited the aquarium, monkeys and apes, pelicans, hooved animals, owls, and giraffes. (I’m pleased to report that the okapi’s pregnancy survived Nova’s last visit, and she gave birth to her calf in December.) We had a picnic lunch, where Nova encountered grass (not sure about it) and chocolate (definite thumbs up) for the first time.

Back home, we flew about our various household chores, while Nova continued her nap in the car, exhausted by her exciting morning. She woke up after two hours, and when I went to her she opened her mouth and said, “dadadadada” for the very first time. She’s just sliding under the wire on the babbling developmental milestone. Our baby book says, “by the ninth month, your baby will probably be able to say mama or dada indiscriminately.’

She hasn’t really figured out how to walk in the thing, but she does scoot backwards and drag herself along using her hands, and with these techniques she was able to ensure that she was always as close to Mr. Clarke as her walker bumpers permitted. He’s a slow worker at the best of times (although he does a great job) and what with all the peek-a-booing and hand clapping and such, it took him more than three hours.

Window cleaners are as rare as gold dust in Highgate, and after our last one retired, it took a few months to find a replacement. Even so, we aren’t on Mr. Clarke’s “regular” list — he fits us in when he can, and it often takes a couple of phone calls to get a firm appointment with him, so I was quite surprised when he agreed readily to this date with only three weeks notice. It turns out his daughter is getting married next year, “so I’ll be working every hour that god sends to pay for it all.”

Went to Freddy and Beulah’s for Passover supper with Jeffrey and Jennifer, and Doron and Antonia. We brought the travel cot and settled Nova upstairs before dinner. Passover supper can take quite a long time — there are a lot of readings and blessings and eating of bitter herbs and unleavened bread and boiled eggs in salt water (surprisingly good) before you get down to the meal itself.

The food was marvellous, as always: an exceptionally good celery soup, an array of salads and cold meats, and winter fruits ice cream, chocolate mousse, fruit compote or raspberries (or all of the above) for dessert. Nova was most unhappy at being woken up at 11pm, and made her displeasure evident, as we hustled her home.

Fortunately our next door neighbour John offered to take her for a walk in her pushchair during my appointment. We set off up the hill together and I turned off to the hairdressers while he continued to the park. I don’t know if she even realised there had been a change of driver.

Went to see Gosford Park with Pascale last night, while our respective husbands looked after the little ones. It felt almost illicit leaving the house on my own. We had a really nice evening, and I enjoyed the film, although I don’t think it worked particularly well as a murder mystery. It would be a great one to see twice, as I spent the first hour or so trying to work out who was related or married to who…

I’ve wondered if something wasn’t right since she was tiny, but I kept thinking that maybe it was just a phase belly buttons went through (what do I know?) but when we were out in Canada mom said, “Oh! I’ve never seen one like that…” and she’s seen lots, so I thought it was worth getting checked out.

The doctor took one look and pronounced it a para-umbilical hernia. It’s a condition where the base of the umbilicus protrudes through a weakness in the abdominal muscles and it is not uncommon. They quite often repair themselves by the time the child is two, but if that doesn’t happen, it can be corrected with a simple surgery.

We went out for Sunday lunch sushi at Yaohan Plaza this afternoon — a 40th birthday treat for our friend Leigh. Nova sat on a stool at the counter in her car seat (we’d forgotten her pushchair), and was having a go at a piece of egg sushi, when I noticed a very definite pong coming from her.

I could see that the sushi chef had noticed it as well, and was likely worried it would put the customers off. Rummaging through the enormous sack that now serves as my handbag, I discovered that we’d also forgotten her change kit. The best we could manage in the whole of the Yaohan Plaza mall was a pack of 12 swim nappies and a jumbo sack of individually rolled and wrapped tissues.

Enough of a stop-gap to get us through lunch, but that swim nappy was far from watertight… It gets you thinking about the water quality of the local swimming pool…

I can’t help wincing when guest crash up and down the stairs, or pace back and forth above Nova’s room chatting loudly, but I’d feel stupid saying anything, because actually they’re behaving normally, and it’s Adam and I who have changed. (I hadn’t even noticed that the floors creaked before Nova’s arrival.)

You can always tell the friends with kids by the way they ring the door bell. Either they don’t — they knock — or they press it so briefly that it rings for less that half a second, while the childless lean on it for what seems like an eternity.

I don’t want to be precious about noise, and it’s far better if you can train your baby to drop off to sleep in the middle of a hurricane, but there’s no point in tempting fate when you just want to relax after a long day.

Anyway, Adam took the day off, and we took the tube to the Southbank to check out the Paul Klee exhibition, which was excellent. Nova enjoyed herself, and got quite excited at some of the more colourful paintings, clapping her hands and babbling. Mostly she enjoyed all the different people and made quite a few new friends.

Afterwards, we had a lovely three-course lunch at the People’s Palace overlooking the Thames: wild mushroom and basil soup, salmon on parsnip purée with roasted onions, and cassis ice cream, and again Nova did us proud. She was a great hit with our fellow diners and the waiters.

I’d brought food for her, but she was also able to share my salmon and parsnip, and had a slice of bread as well. Aside from producing a poop smelly enough to require instant attention (just as our main courses were arriving of course) she couldn’t have been less trouble.

Mellow afternoon and evening at home. Our friend Scott dropped by for a cup of tea (he’s over from Canada for the book fair), and Adam received a number of birthday phone calls. The only shadow on the day was that Arsenal were knocked out of the European Cup… oh well…

• extracting the batteries from the remote control (and attempting to eat)
• tearing the head off a ranunculus flower at the greengrocer’s (and attempting to eat)
• ripping half the spine off our hardcover copy of The Iliad (and attempting to eat)
• removing two shelves’ worth of CDs (a.a.t.e.)
• toppling an immensely heavy stone vase over (a.a.t.e.)
• sliding her nose down the back of the couch so it glowed like Rudolph’s all afternoon
• pulling up one handed using the standing lamp and swinging crazily round it
• rubbing broccoli into her eye then crying about it
• sneaking a small teddy into the tub and sucking gallons of bathwater out of it before leaving it to float face down like a drowning victim

and these are just the edited highlights. Every day there is another list to contend with. We’re in a flat out race to safety proof the house before she does herself an injury. We’ve made a lot of modifications already, but some things (like the lava lamp cord) escape your notice until you see her tugging determinedly on it.

Less exciting achievements include going “brmmm, brmmm” like a car revving its engine, and saying “maaaawww” (usually when upset).

Off to Brent Cross shopping centre (our new home from home) at midday. I wanted to pick up Adam’s birthday present, and we’d decided to buy a microwave oven. We discovered how convenient they were for preparing baby food when we were in Canada, and anything that saves time is a pretty high priority these days.

We talked about the feeding situation, and Trish (the health visitor) agreed that she is likely asserting her independence in wanting to feed herself, but that she might not be getting enough food into her mouth to allow her to sleep through the night. She suggested giving her a 9oz bottle of formula after her meals to ensure that she is satisfied. I’m willing to try anything that promises a full night’s sleep…

Never eat anything bigger than your head…

The first couple of days back here she was a bit fussy, but I put it down to jet lag, and her being off her schedule. But it’s continued for over a week now, so there must be something else involved. She’s happy enough to feed herself, but is very resistant to being spoonfed. If I’m attempting to feed her something thick enough, I’ll stick some on the spoon and she’ll have a go at sticking it in her mouth.

I think she’s also a bit bored with the blandness and smoothness of the prepared foods — she seems less averse to my lumpy homemade purées. I’m having the most success with sandwiches such as tuna-avocado cut into little squares, Cheerios, grated cheese, and little pieces of steamed carrot, broccoli etc. The other day she ignored her purée and shared my lunch of pitta bread, cheese, olives, avocado and yogurt instead — we were a regular couple of ladies who lunch…

I was trying to concentrate on my “beautiful lady looks into a mirror” move, but I kept thinking, “Is that Nova? That one must be Nova” etc. I finally broke down and went to check on her. She was happily pounding away on an activity centre, and gave me a “what are you doing here?” look.

It turned out it was baby Kieran who was setting up such a squall. So much for that old wives’ tale about how you can always tell your own baby’s cry.

Nova was happy enough to get down and play with toys, but she’s a bit young to do much interacting with other kids. (Actually she did crawl over and tug on a little boy’s ringlet — he started shrieking blue murder, and his mother made a great fuss, inspecting his scalp etc. I know I’m biased, but what a sissy… Nova barely touched him.)

I wouldn’t be in a rush to go back, but these things are good to know about if you just want to get out of the house for an hour or two.

It was a really nice time, and very good food: a glass of champagne to start, roasted peppers with baby mozzarella (“They look like little breasts,” said Antonia), salmon with asparagus and roasted chicory, and a peach with zabaglione and mille feuille to finish. A very civilised start to the day, but I hadn’t been home an hour before Nova threw up on my sweater, and whacked me across the bridge of the nose with a stacking ring. Back to reality…

Instead we went to a Thai restaurant in Archway. It didn’t really sink in that she wasn’t with us until we parked up and started walking up the road without pushchair, change bag, fleecy blanket etc. All the same, I opened my handbag to find it contained a nappy and small plastic rattle…

Ben has a beautifully shaped head and lovely skin, and looked very peaceful. When he was asleep at any rate… he raised an alarming ruckus when they tried to change his nappy, and Nova and I thought it was time to be off.

It makes me realise how far she has come when I see a little one like that. I noticed today that she can get herself into a sitting position from her stomach, and when I support her in a standing position she takes little steps. She’s developing so quickly…

But the biggest factor was my seat mate. I boarded early, and as I sat there watching the other passengers file on, the bulkhead seats were filling up with young men, a girl on crutches, an extremely old man, and I was thinking, “please let a mother sit next to me. “

Fern had given me a gold sovereign on a chain that had been my great grandmother’s, who had “always set great store by it”. I decided to wear it in the hope that it would bring me good luck on the flight. The instant Anne sat down next to me, I knew that I’d hit the jackpot. She was a kind, friendly, grandmotherly sort, and her first words were, “A baby! How lovely!”

She was invaluable throughout the flight, holding Nova, helping to feed her, giving her things from her handbag to amuse her, setting up a little nest on the floor for her to play in, getting her bottle heated, chasing the stewardess for a sky cot and so on.

She was also very good company, and we chatted away the whole flight. She waited until everyone was off the plane and helped me with my luggage and pushchair. I told her she was my fairy godmother. Interestingly, although she’s been living in Vancouver for 40 years, she comes from a little Staffordshire village only a few miles from where my great grandmother lived. Coincidence… or a helping hand from great granny Greensmith?

I didn’t do everything I’d planned, like getting to the Mormon family history centre, but I did do a lot of work on mom’s genealogy files over the past few days, and have built up a family tree on my computer of over 600 names. Mom has gathered so much stuff together — a serious genealogist would have a field day.

Now, every morning at about 7am I: get baby up, breastfeed baby, change baby, make porridge, strap baby into highchair, feed baby, wipe baby, wipe highchair, rinse baby’s bib, wash baby’s dishes, put out play mat and toys, undress baby, wash baby’s face and hands, change baby, dress baby, brush baby’s hair and teeth, sterilise baby’s bottle, make baby’s milk, boil baby’s water, put on a load of laundry, strap baby into high chair, give baby a cracker, wipe baby, wipe highchair, rinse bib, change baby, give baby bottle, top up baby with breast milk, put baby down for nap.

All while preventing baby from chewing on electrical cords, braining herself on the coffee table, eating small objects, and wedging herself under pieces of furniture. And once she’s napping, that frees me up to do a whole other series of tasks that can’t be managed with Nova underfoot: vegetable steaming and puréeing, ironing and so on.

Oh, by the way, Nova slept through the night last night — from 7:30pm to 6:30am. She does this very occasionally to give me a tantalising glimpse of the world of unbroken sleep I used to take for granted… The down side is that all that rest has filled her with demonic energy. She is tearing about the living room, pulling herself up on the couch, then the armchair, then the coffee table, then the octagonal table with the lethal corners, making a break for the hallway, nipping around the corner into the kitchen etc.