Freya’s Birthday

Posted by dulwichmum on Thu 29 March 2007

Today my precious daughter was four years old. It is hard to believe that the little poppet began life just a few short years ago, and is no longer a tiny baby.

No more bottles (of boiled water – clearly, the darling was breast fed), nappies (biodegradable of course), baby gates (removed from the bottom of the stairs, soon to be re-instated in my bedroom doorway to confine me in my imminent senility), high chair, tiny car seat or even pram! It is hard to accept that both of my munchkins’ baby days are no more.

This next phase of their childhood shall entail the careful avoidance of the endless antics and bullying of the school gate mafia, God help me.

I wanted to mark the day in a special way. Freya was born more than eight weeks prematurely and was incredibly unwell following her emergency delivery. She weighed just four pounds and was ventilated for ten days. The entire family bears the scars of those traumatic, anxious first weeks.

I took an annual leave day and decided that a special treat was in order. I had my hair cut and coloured in Nicky Clarke, followed by an Eve Lom facial and all of the extras at the Marylebone salon in Spanish Place.

I don’t see why the children should have all of the fun, it is the mothers who suffer the pain of childbirth after all. Freya was happy enough playing with her new toy kitchen supervised by our delightful au pair Ana. She shall have her party when the new school term starts after Easter.

All of her little friend’s are out of town skiing or at Center Parcs, and James is working on a crucial deal at work – out until midnight every day this week. He is hoping to retire by Christmas, but until then I am virtually a single mother!

OK so you really despise me now. How bloody refreshing, I have been driving the damn Prius all week and the constant looks of approval from other drivers and even pedestrians is doing my head in…

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Posted by dulwichmum on Wed 28 March 2007

Two Christmas’ ago, great aunt Alice gave the children some little gifts that they accepted in a less than gracious manner.

The darlings had been forced to leave their precious gifts from Santa behind at Grandma Elizabeth’s house in order to make the arduous 90 minute car journey from Wales to Bath. They had received all manner of sweets, treats and presents on the long Christmas day before and were exhausted, over tired and short tempered.

Great Aunt Alice is robust for her age, but was then in her 89th year and profoundly deaf. She had personally made a special shopping trip to buy the gifts, but the gracious lady had made the fatal mistake of wrapping both munchkin’s gifts in ‘My Little Pony’ paper.

Max was not pleased, threw a tantrum of epic proportions and refused to accept the token. Alice was never blessed with children of her own, and appeared to be more than horrified by his behaviour, as was I.

My tiny man was just four years old then, so really, what else should we have expected?

This year, in an effort to avoid embarrassment, and alleviate any anxiety for Great Aunt Alice, I asked James’ mother if I could select and provide the gifts for her – already wrapped. Small tokens that I knew the lambs would be overjoyed to receive.

Grandma Elizabeth assured me that Great Aunt Alice would be more than pleased with the arrangement and promised to discuss it with her. On Boxing day as per tradition, we prized the tiny poppets from their newly acquired treasures and drove to visit dear Great Aunt Alice who greeted us at the door of her enormous home on her zimmer frame.

Once again I clarified with Grandma Elizabeth that Great Aunt Alice was not offended at the idea of my providing her with gifts for the children. She assured me that Alice was relieved to escape the burden of a shopping trip.

I discretly presented Alice with two small appropriately wrapped gifts which she accepted with a puzzled smile. Alice’s deafness meant that I could not even begin to try to elaborate or describe the contents of the small parcels.

Great Aunt Alice kissed me on each cheek and promptly ripped the Monsters Inc. wrapping paper open… I was bemused to say the least, but not nearly as confused as Great Aunt Alice.

Grandma Elizabeth had clearly not discussed the plan with our sweet octogenarian relative at all, or if she had, Alice had not understood. Nevertheless, she graciously accepted a pair of silver handcuffs and some loud green eye shadow and powder pink lip stick – which would doubtless have offended the sensibilities of even the late Dame Barbara Cartland.

I am sure that Great Aunt Alice has been given the impression that I am incredibly odd. I don’t trust my mother in law at all. She appeared to find the calamity rather entertaining.

I am convinced that she planned the whole thing…

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