Sunday, December 11, 2005

 

Diddle Diddle Dumpling



A mother's words to a typical boy child!
No origins in history can be found, it is merely a nonsense rhyme, probably
made popular and handed down from generation to generation
owing to the popularity of the name John (Diddle Diddle Dumpling my son John).
It is an interesting fact that this is the only old rhyme that uses the name John - all of the older poems use the colloquialism for John i.e. Jack.

Poem - Diddle Diddle Dumpling
My son John,

Went to bed with his trousers on;
One shoe off, and one shoe on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John!


A bit of an oblique opening.
But, yes, the baby finally arrived, exactly one week late and aftera little persuasion from the mid-wife and an epidural for mum, who says, despite the help from the anaesthetists, that it was still very painful and if there is a next time she'll opt for a caesarian .

He is notreally a 'John' either- but I can't think of any appropriate nursery rhymes for Alexander, and Jonathan is his second name after my other son, his uncle, Jon.

The facts are:
Name: Alexander Jonathan
Born: 6.00pm, Saturday, 10th of December
Weight: just under 9lbs

It was a very pleasant day with slanting light of watery winter sunshine,which still made the stone of the cottages glow golden . We took a long walk with Edward, the dog, to ease the waiting. We ate at the Bull's Head, Ashover
Somewhere I can highly recommend for those who like good food in a real pub.

Bull's Head A fine old coaching Inn, situated in the centre of the village, with roses round the door and seats outside. Open for food every lunchtime and all evenings apart from Thursdays. (Tel. 01629 812931)

He and his mum came out of hospital on the Sunday lunchtime and I had my first cuddle at about 3.30 pm that day. His other granny brought a lovely celebration meal of smoked salmon, followed by chicken and avocado bake with a green salad, accompanied by champagne.

We sat around (all that is except mum who was feeling sore so paced about ) and adored him.
Further connection to the nursery rhyme s through the little knitted shoes he wore to bed and was already kicking off..

I hadn't realised how many different kinds of shoes you can find for babies. Shoes from companies with lovely names like : pitter patter; daisy roots, star child and shoo shoos. (These pics are for you, Katie)
So as usual blogging brings out the shopping urge which I am just managing to control.

Also must resist the temptation to keep going back to visit unannounced, until Ifind myself , parked in the mini, waiting outside under their window- very sad case.
Can just see headlines :

Granny Arrested for Stalking.

Old Biddy ound lurking outside home demanding to hold grandson

So, sadly, I promised them , no pictures of the new three-piece family- but believe me the baby is well to the jay bad, cute ( See Dr Rob's cool poem)

Oh and he can call me Nanny Lainey- but I'm still Digigran to you.


Tuesday, December 06, 2005

 

Still Waiting



This first poem is written by a mother awaiting the day when she can set out on her journey to Vietnam to find the child she is about to adopt.
Slow Moving Moon
By Marea Rose Jenness
It started out a slit of light.
Stubbornly, it grew to a crescent.
In this January-February sky,
While I wait to see you for the first time,
Its progress seems painfully slow.
Three-quarters now, it will be full in three nights.
Then in reverse, it will shrink to a crescent before I travel.
Eleven long nights.
I have no power to speed the earth's shadow as it moves across the moon's face.
I think that I may notice each degree of progress.
© Copyright 2000 Marea Rose Jenness
The following is a counting rhyme which emphasises the infinity into which time draws us on :
Sing Song by Christina Rossetti, firstreleased in 1872, has stayed popular for over a
century, and some of its verses (like "Who Has Seen the Wind") remain
well-known today.

Sorry I have been of-line so long. It's been a busy end of the month , culminating in my husband's retirement from medicine after 40 odd years in the NHS. More of that next time
As yet No BABY.
As you may guess from the poem and images, I am full of contradictory feelings. I am anxiously awaiting the message that announces the birth of little bean and brings a new digibaby into the world. Time seems to be both to have sped by and stood still.

The first poem reflects the slowness of time for a mother awaiting the day to travel to find her adopted child, the second the enduring nature of time and its slow progress, while the clock signals the time running out and the birth day imminent.
Too scared to phone in case I interrupt anything.
Jumping at any sound from the phone, like an expectant lover, not a gran.
This morning I received the following txt message from a friend:
'Hi baby here. Can you meet children from bus today?.'
Took me a good ten minutes of panic, rushing to find coat , boots, car keys etc, before I realised txt should read: 'Is baby here?' and the children in question are 10 and 14 .
Will let you know exact day of arrival when it happens.

Meanwhile

Maddona
says it all. But in my case the baby in question is really a baby.

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