This task seemed indescribably daunting when I came to compile my Sevenat70 list last August. My granddaughter Freya was just 3 months old at the time. As a first-time nanna, I had last handled a new-born 40 years ago when Lucy, the youngest of my three children, made her entry into the world. That's a very long gap in continuity. I'm not going to lie, at that stage it felt like a massive deal to take responsibility for such a precious little bundle, even for the odd hour or two. 21st century parenting do's and don'ts had clearly undergone a seismic shift since my time. And as for the new-fangled state of the art baby equipment Lucy was accruing? I was in awe of it all. A weekend in full charge was a huge task to set myself.
Just to give some more context......Lucy is a solo mum and when she first made the brave decision to go it alone in parenthood, we agreed that if she had the massively good fortune to become pregnant through the rollercoaster ride of IVF, she would move in with me and my husband Andrew for six months following the baby's birth, to ensure that she had 24/7 companionship and support on tap in those early days. A year later, on a family trip to Paris, Lucy announced that she was 6 weeks' pregnant. The champagne flowed that night I can tell you! Over the next few months she sold her property in Edinburgh, reached agreement with her employers on working remotely and relocated down South to our house in East Sussex in time for Freya's arrival. Sadly Andrew didn't live long enough to meet his first grandchild, but we're all so grateful that he did at least know he was going to be a grandpa.
Following Freya's birth, I was on hand to help morning, noon and night. It didn't take long for me to find out that just like riding a bike, I hadn't forgotten my soothing, nappy-changing and bath-time skills. Since Freya was being bottle-fed, I had the joy of being able to watch her guzzle her milk whilst snuggled up in my arms. I learnt to gently bounce her to sleep whilst sitting on a yoga ball in front of Celebrity Traitors. And as singing proved to be a sure-fire way of comforting her whenever she was shrieking at full blast, I could burst into a rendition of Ten Green Bottles or One Man Went to Mow as required, even in public.
So it was that at the end of October, two months after I compiled my list of Sevenat70 tasks, Lucy bade Freya and me a fond farewell and exited the building for a whole 36 hours, leaving me to manage a relentless regime of 3 hourly feeds, tummy-time sessions and pushing the pram up and down the street like a possessed yoyo. By then Freya was 5 months old and sleeping 11-12 hour nights, which gave me some vital recovery time, and our weekend together proved to be a fabulous bonding experience. But I can't deny I was pretty wrung out come Sunday evening. Being 70 has its limitations. Because I was so exhausted, I failed to write the planned blog on Task 75. 'Ah well, there's always another time', I thought to myself as my head hit the pillow that night.
I was quite right, there was another time. For starters, since Lucy's return to work six months ago I've become a highly cost-effective alternative to nursery two days a week. Added to which I've continued to provide one-nighter Freya care on a number of occasions, either when Lucy has had special celebrations to attend, or more recently when she's travelled up to Edinburgh overnight for office meetings. Freya care has morphed from feeding, changing and soothing to knocks and tumbles safeguarding, multiplex entertainment services (Grandpa Andrew would have been wonderful at that) and satisfying her gargantuan appetite.
Last weekend I had my biggest test yet....to look after Freya for a full 48-hour stint whilst Lucy had a well-deserved birthday break with her best friend Emma in the Oxfordshire countryside. The perfect opportunity to finally nail Task 75. Although what I hadn't factored into this fine plan was that my dippy doodle dog Betty would be undergoing major surgery for a cruciate ligament tear in her left back knee-joint 4 days before Freya's stayover. It quickly became clear I would have to juggle a complex post-op medication regime, the dreaded cone of shame and high levels of doggy neediness alongside the requirements of a very switched on and, ahem, determined toddler.
Saturday morning dawned and just like 12 months previously, Lucy packed her bags and set off down the street, only this time Freya was able to wave and say 'Bye bye mumMEE'. The day passed by quickly. The sun came out (hurrah) and Uncle J and Auntie Lizzie took Freya to a local playground, where Freya insisted on inspecting every ride before hanging out with her best buddy, whose family was also paying the playground an impromptu visit. Then we repaired to my local for tea. Not a bad life really. Betty was very unimpressed at being left at home alone until Freya handed her a pink snake stuffed full of salmon paste, courtesy of Jonathan and Liz. That cheered her up no end.
On Sunday morning Freya and I made a beeline for our local Aldi, in response to a promising tip-off from Lucy about a stash of wooden toys for sale in the middle aisle. Good call Lucy. The shelves were indeed piled high with boxes of role-play beautician kits, coffee-makers and sushi sets. Every first world whim catered for. I bought two very wholesome fruit and veg trays and a garden of flowers, which Freya spent the rest of the morning playing with. Result.
Freya's latest obsession is looking at board books and Sunday afternoon was no exception. As normal she instructed me to 'sit dow' on the sofa whilst she selected one book from the bookcase. She clambered up onto the sofa, sat at my side, turned the pages in random order and with an authoritative air proceeded to point out cats, dogs, ducks, teddies, butterflies, fish and wheels. Then she slammed the book shut and wriggled off the sofa to go and choose another one. And Repeat. As she went to choose the eleventh book (like I say, she's quite obsessed right now) my phone pinged and I reached out to check a message. Freya fixed me with a stern look and shook her head vigorously. 'No' she said firmly. That was me told. It's sad to think that one day she may be as wedded to her mobile as the rest of the world.
Monday morning dawned rather too early for my liking, at 6.05am to be exact. Freya didn't sound convinced by her decision to wake up either. So I took a leaf out of Lucy's playbook and lay down on the floor next to Freya's cot, pillow under my head for a smidgeon of comfort. I raised my arm towards the cot bars and was instantly rewarded by the feel of a little hand grasping and squeezing mine. There we both stayed quite peacefully, hand in hand, side by side, for half an hour until Freya's stomach reminded her it was time for breakfast.
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