If the truth be known I was a little worried about the prospect, worried, challenged, excited and very happy to be trusted to that level. I'd only done it for a couple of hours a previous week and wow that wore me out! Up and down the stairs, down on my hands and knees, yep, I slept well after that and the next day in the afternoon after work I hit the deck again and was out to the world. In fact Kent got really worried when he couldn't contact me to come and pick him up after 5pm, he tried both my phones, rang my boss, tried my friends, then finally rang our flatmate downstairs and got him to go upstairs and look for me. I was found, bleary eyed, half way through a log.
So I headed north to do the job, this time on a Thursday to look after my completely gorgeous grandson Spencer who has just turned one year old, for a whole Friday day on my own. Next day, armed with a list annotating his daily schedule, a nappy bag (needs no explanation other than that it is a Tardis of baby needs) and a fine day we were set. Hmm a schedule... I have trouble with these things, when I travel I have no plans just an overall goal, even in my working life I have a job that is flexible the only part of it that is a schedule is that I go most days of the week. I don't wear a watch.
Mumma left at 9am and I stepped into her considerable shoes, Nanma 007. 9.30 snack time and 10 o'clock bottle time came before I even knew it and it occurred to me that the day may disappear into the schedule, so I acted quickly and as soon as bottle and ablutions were over we went for a little walk. Spencer is not quite walking on his own but does a great job if you hold one hand. We walked across the road and down a shared driveway then back and down the road a little.We looked at each flower and discussed the plants and stones (the only things really at his level).
He seemed so ready for sleep that lunch was a slightly hurried affair with mash going in and carrot pieces coming out then he slept for nearly 2 hours as per any perfect baby's schedule (he's better at this than me). Like the super-nan I am, while he was asleep I whipped up a pudding for dinner and did a little work online whilst sorting out the worlds problems.
On awaking Spencer was happy to see me, this was reassuring, I was worried he might in his befuddled state think 'who the hell is this???'. Bottle time again, this brings back wonderful memories of the only time when i could truly relax as a young mother. Breast feeding baby and sitting still with no other requirements or duties that could be more important, everything else had to wait. Baby curled into the crook of your arm lying warmly across your lap.
Right! Pram out, spare bits chucked in the bottom, Spencer strapped in. Did I mention the day was BEAUTIFUL, the odds were against it but the sun prevailed and there wasn't even any wind. No wonder the thought of going down to the seafront appealed to Spencer and it didn't take much to talk me into it. First challenge was getting him in the pram out onto the road. I managed to somehow get the pram off the deck down onto the front lawn, a 3 foot drop, thinking to go out the front gate. Unfortunately it didn't open wide enough so my next challenge was getting the pram back up on the deck! After a think I figured I could get the pram down the stairs, bump, bump, bump. Spencer thought this all was hilarious and laughed out loud going down the stairs, yes his Nanma was turning out to be quite entertaining after all, who would've thought.
At the seafront we discovered ducks. Duck, duck, duck. In preparation we had brought bread, more ducks. I text Mumma to allay her fears that Spencer wasn't surviving and she instantly demanded pics. Pics! Hadn't thought of that, woohoo, photoshoot. Spencer was out of the pram in a shot, sitting on the grass ecstatic about the ducks running hither and yon across his legs. More walking on the beach, he decided against a swim, a bit too winterish, even tho the ducks were into it. The stoney sand was great for a scratch and dig with a few mouth close calls.
I wasn't looking forward to the trek back up the hill to the house but the prams these days are amazing and not hard to push at all and in no time at all we were home. Well I was home and Spencers body was definitely in the pram but his mind was far away! Not being able to get the pram back up the steps I sat in the last of the sun and read while he slept.
The next day was Dadda's birthday. Spencer was up at 8am and after breakfast and a small play climbed onto the couch, put his head on my lap and fell asleep. What! Rerun, that's not the usual schedule! By the time he woke up we were heading into town, into the car seat and another sleep. A very quiet boy in the pram whilst walking around shops and another sleep on the way back home and bed for his usual sleep. I was starting to feel guilty. I kept saying 'a little' when describing our walk etc yesterday but in hindsight and thinking of his wee legs 'a little way' was quite a distance for my little man. In the afternoon I rubbed his legs and he gratefully lifted each one and seemed to be right into it, poor boy, poor legs... It would seem instead of my being worn out the reverse occurred.
Am I allowed back?
