Open Writing

While on holiday, we spent a week in Shenley, just north of London, with my step-daughter, Viv, her husband, Rich, and their baby, Mia.

Mia was a delight. Within a few hours, she grew accustomed to having two more grandparents adoring her and burst into sunshine smiles whenever she saw us. She crawled, crab-wise, on one knee, with the other leg stretched out, foot on the ground, covering a surprising distance with great rapidity. Not a cuddly baby, she delighted in being thrown into the air and caught again, being held tight and tickled until she squealed. She loved bath-times and thought cleaning her teeth was terrific fun. When she got on her feet behind her little wooden trolley, she staggered off across the room at high speed. Her shouts of delight filled the house, while the grin on her face showed she was thrilled with life.

On Friday morning, Mia attended her weekly buggy-aerobics. Mummy had to have her at the field by ten-thirty in the morning, which was rather a challenge. Leon and I joined our girls for this outing. The babies’ buggies were parked at a corner of the dew-laden field, while their mothers – and Mia’s Granny and Granddad – began a demanding physical work-out. We ran or walked around the field, windmilling arms first forward then back; stopped in the far corner to do a series of squats; ran or walked back to several mini obstacle courses near the waiting buggies; chose a course then dodged, lunged or squatted up and down them for the next three minutes. The babies in their buggies compared telepathic notes on their bonnets and caps, and no doubt commented on how funny the sweating adults looked. We did another circuit, lifting knees as high as possible; bounced on the spot in the far corner, arms and legs in contrary motion. So it went for an hour. Mia thoroughly enjoyed her time outdoors. Mummy, Granny and Granddad were exhausted, thirsty and hungry. We went home for lunch.

On Sunday, Mia went with her family to a very important family wedding. Mummy and Mia had found the perfect outfits to wear to Auntie Jo’s and Uncle Matthew’s Big Day. Mummy was glamorous in brown chiffon with delicate beads at her neck – which soon came off because Mia thought they were made for her to tug at and eat. Mia wore a creamy creation with pink and turquoise flowers embroidered on the bodice and along the hemline, matching bolero and shoes - the height of Baby Fashion.

The grand and very beautiful wedding took place in the gardens of the Sculpture Gallery of Woburn Abbey. Froths of white roses bloomed against a backdrop of green lawns and shady trees, the white-draped chuppah was flower-decked, the bride was exquisite in satin and lace, the groom extremely handsome, and the entire wedding party, their family and friends, were filled with joy. Mia didn’t squeak once during the ceremony. Afterwards she contemplated the milling guests with huge, serious eyes.

The reception was held inside the long, elegant gallery. An ancient Roman statue, The Apollo Belvedere by Pietro Pacilli, presided over the event from an alcove at one end. An even more ancient, massive Greek Lanté ‘vase’, sat on a plinth at the centre of the room. These were only two of the many treasures displayed, treasures collected by the young men of the family on their ‘grand tours’ through Europe. We noticed that most of the male appendages had been broken off the nude male statues and later repaired. Apparently, the culprit was a prim-minded younger son of one of the Dukes, armed with a cricket bat. Woburn Abbey is the home of the Duke of Bedford, currently, the fifteenth of that title. Down the centre of the gallery, tables were covered with long white cloths, tall vases filled with white lilies at their centres.

The celebrations ‘kicked off’ with the traditional dancing of the hora. Viv and Rich left Mia in her high chair at their table. Mia was about to roar out her objections when I plucked her from the chair, held her close and danced on the spot with her at a safe distance from the boisterous crowd. We laughed as the men, still dancing, hefted Jo and Matthew, seated on chairs, onto their shoulders.

Mia slept peacefully in her blanket-draped buggy as the band played with increasing enthusiasm and volume; everyone danced, ate and talked at the tops of their voices. The speeches, beautifully romantic and loving, didn’t wake Mia. We arrived home in the early hours of the morning.

Tuesday was another busy day. By nine-thirty, Mia and her entourage were at her “Sing, Rattle and Roll” class. Susan, the teacher, welcomed each baby and child by name, in song. Then she opened the treasure-basket in the middle of the floor, from which each little one selected a rattle, a band of bells, a tambourine or a drum to shake or bang on. Songs were sung by mums with the help of some of the children and actions performed with mums’ assistance while great fun was had by all. Some of the children wondered around aimlessly. Most shook and rattled without rhythm. One little boy, who looked about a year old, danced, rattled and banged in perfect time – a born musician? Mia looked, wide-eyed, at the other children, sat quietly with Mummy and was mesmerized when, during the quiet closing song, Susan blew rainbow bubbles that drifted over the children.

Then, it was into the car, rushing to reach the indoor swimming pool at Milford House School. Mia already had her Star Fish swimming certificate, and was going for her first Angel Fish lesson. Five babies, between six and nine months’ old, in the water with their mummies, were taught to float, to enjoy being dunked, pulled and pushed through the water. They kicked, they splashed and gurgled. Outside, after the wettest of wet summers, the English weather was dry, crisp and clear. The sun poured through the wide windows, adding to the steamy heat inside.

Not surprisingly, Mia and her family spent the afternoon napping in different choice spots. Mia’s was in her nursery, with golden butterfly-wall-paper and coloured butterflies embroidered on the curtains. She slept on her tummy with her knees pulled up under her chest, her face twisted to one side and her bottom in the air.

At half-past four, Mia woke and called wordlessly but loudly from her cot. I surfaced from my own nap, wound myself off the couch, climbed groggily up the stairs, and picked up our gorgeous baby. A little matter of ‘toxic waste’ was quickly dealt with: it’s so much easier with disposable nappies and wipes than it was with cloth nappies and sharp pins! Then Leon and I had a marvellous time with Mia and her toys, her books and her large quilted rug. At eight months, Mia was able to stand without assistance. Mummy enjoyed a well-deserved three hour sleep, only waking at half-past six.

On Wednesday evening, Mia and her family celebrated Rosh Hashana dinner with Daddy’s family at their home. Mia, pretty as a picture in a white and silver dress, was loved and cosseted by her Grandma and Grandpa, Bubbeh and various aunts and uncles, great and otherwise, before going to sleep in her bedroom at Daddy’s old home. We enjoyed a marvellous meal surrounded by warm friendship and vibrant company.

When we got into the car to go home, Mia took great exception to having her dreams disturbed. She gave a masterly demonstration of baby-hysteria – screams and sobs interrupted regularly by a great, juicy blowing of raspberries. Her face was glazed with tears. It was enough to break a granny’s heart, particularly as we were all strapped in by safety belts, and I couldn’t comfort her!

Next day, Mummy and Daddy took Mia to the Rosh Hashana service at the synagogue. Once again, Mia dressed for the occasion, this time in gorgeous pink. What a wardrobe our granddaughter possesses! It seems that Mia disapproved of sitting quietly in shul, and Mummy and Grandma were forced to retire to Grandma’s house after only half an hour.

We were quite exhausted by the busy life which Mia and her parents shared with us. Mia thrives on being busy. Her lucky mummy has a wonderful time caring for this precious little bundle.

Star-fish fingers
And raspberry kisses;
Bugs-bunny smiles and
Squeaks, wriggles and giggles:
Mia – joyful cuddle!

Until next time, ‘here comes Treble!’

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Isabel Bradley