Last night I hit the hay at around one thirty. As I have said before in this blog, I have always been a night owl. Less than three hours later, I was woken by a small voice in the darkness. It was Little Phoebe... "Grandma? Grandma!". Not in distress and certainly not at full volume.
I went to the bathroom to urinate, intending to look in on Phoebe but two minutes later she wasn't making a sound so I crept back to bed. Ten minutes later, the voice in the dark became louder and more insistent delivered in a happy singsong style - "Grandma! Grandma!". It was 4.30 in the morning.
Shirley got up and went into Phoebe's room and for a little while it seemed that she might go back to sleep. But no such luck. At 5am, she was ready for the day ahead with Grandma as her bleary-eyed but faithful chaperone. They went downstairs.
I put the radio on as news about war always has the effect of sending me back to sleep. And I returned to The Land of Nod but at seven o'clock Shirley's smartphone went off - alarming me at first because I didn't know what it was. I don't know how to answer smartphones and once again failed miserably to take the call. I found out later that it was Shirley's sister Carolyn, phoning to say she wasn't feeling very well.
So shaken was I from my slumbers that this time there was no chance of me returning to what Shakespeare called "Nature's soft nurse" - sleep. So I stumbled downstairs with less than five hours of unconsciousness behind me though I am used to eight hours.
Little Phoebe had been watching episodes of "Peppa Pig" but now she was on "Highway Rat" - closely based on one of Julia Donaldson's brilliant story books. I watched it with Phoebe while Shirley took the opportunity to have a shower and get dressed.
We didn't know just how long we'd be looking after Phoebe today. It all depended on when Frances was allowed to leave the maternity hospital. In the event, she was let out at 5pm and Stewart drove her home with Baby Margot.
After an evening meal of steak pie, homemade chips and garden peas with gravy, we took Phoebe home to meet her little sister for the first time. It was a beautiful encounter. Margot was lying in her crib just snuffling around as newborns are wont to do. The smile on Phoebe's face was priceless as she touched her sister for the very first time. Of course Phoebe clarified that Margot had come out of Mummy's tummy and remarked on how small she appeared. She gave her a cuddly penguin that she had, with her daddy, picked from a shop that has a few shelves laden with cuddly creatures.
And for Shirley and I, it was naturally a most lovely thing to hold Margot in our arms for the first time. I sang "Scarborough Fair" to her and she seemed to look up at me feeling comforted. Shirley said she loved the smell of her - the unique smell of a newborn child and I touched the remarkable softness of her cheeks. As I click the "Publish" button, Margot is thirty two and a half hours old.
I hope and expect to get my full allotment of sleep tonight.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/G3gTCoO