Skip to main content

Buzzing About With Bee

On the train to Cardiff again!
February 1st sees me in Cardiff again where Lily and Bee have been struck down with a sickness bug. By Friday everyone’s on the mend so I come home, but on Monday Lily is so ill we’re all fearful of meningitis. To everyone’s relief, it’s ‘only’ a severe, acute sinus infection, but since Lily can’t even stand without feeling sick and dizzy, I dash down to help with the mini-hurricane that is twenty-month-old Bee.

Poor Bee has had a rotten winter with a series of horrible colds and a perforated eardrum which has temporarily affected her hearing, but not her ability to make herself understood. Just after 6 am Bee bursts in, thrilled to bits to find me on the futon in the guest room. What to do first? Empty Nana’s handbag, exclaiming with delight over every item or take Nana’s running shoes for a spin?




Bee’s not the type of child to sit passively in front of the TV, although she is partial to a bit of Teletubbies and Twirlywoos, so most of the time we play. We take it in turns to ride her teeny-tiny trike (yes, she’s insistent that Nana must have a fair go), we dive in and out of her teeny tent and when Bee can stand it inside no longer (she’s an outdoorsy girl), we go out exploring and greet every cat, dog, magpie, dustbin man (she’s great mates with the bin men) we meet along the way.



In the afternoon we have a little snuggle whilst Bee tucks into a box of Peppa Pig raisins. Duplo Peppa Pig is close to my hand so I can’t resist poking her snout in Bee’s raisins. ‘NO!’ Bee tells her, which amuses me greatly.

After more games, it’s tea, bath - with huge belly laughs from a very small person as she flings water over us - and then I put Bee to bed. She sits on my lap for a last cuddle and a cup of milk then I lay her in her cot and listen to her wriggling around getting comfortable before her breathing settles into soft baby snores. Being Nana doesn’t get much better than this.

My going-home present.  Apparently it's a fire collage.

Comments

Clare Chase said…
What a lovely post! Sounds as though you must have had a tense time. I’m so glad Lily’s illness wasn’t as bad as first feared. The photos are charming and I *love* the idea of you taking it turns on the trike! x
mountainear said…
Such precious times aren't they? Making memories.

I'm so glad that baby Lily's not got meningitis - but I bet she still felt pretty rotten though.

I hope there are many more days like this for you - sans nurse's uniform though!

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al...

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been p...

Since You've Been Gone

Well, Ma Mère, There have been so many times when I’ve gathered up all the little shiny moments I’ve collected during the day, ready to present to you in our evening phone call and then I remember all over again that you’re not there. But, Mum, so much has happened since you’ve gone - maybe you know, maybe you don’t - that I’ve decided to write to you instead.  A few days after you died, we sold our house! After all those months! We even joked about you rattling cages somewhere. At first, nothing happened and then suddenly everything happened at a breathless pace and the next thing I knew I found myself driving (yes, me, driving!) along the M4 to Bridgend and the Time Capsule House, the one you said you and Dad would have bought. I remarked, when we first viewed it that if it was meant for us, it would come to us. Over a year later, when it had been under offer twice, we moved in. Oh, Mum, you and Dad would have loved this house; it’s peak Seventies and the decor - the pampas ensu...