Three Beautiful Things

Three bloggers who are recording happy things -- Anisa writes about her time in Madrid ; words and pictures on Posterous by Imperfect Pages ; and Gillian over at Sky Blue Pinkish . 1. We wake up to Radio 3 playing Ae Fond Kiss , one of Robert Burns' love poems set to music. This is followed by the wedding march from Handel's Midsummer Night's Dream, which was our processional music. 2. Anna comes over to lunch. She brings a stone bead set with a tiny compass for Alec. "I think it might be a watch chain charm," she says. "It's for his cabinet of curiosities. With parents like you he's bound to have a cabinet of curiosities." I think it will also keep him pointing in the right direction, and I'm looking forward to helping him fill his cabinet. 3. I finish The Missing by Tim Gautreaux, which I have enjoyed thoroughly. He manages to make a sad and frightening subject luminous. A floorwalker who dreams of playing jazz is indirectly responsi...

1. A parcel for Alec: a knitted tanktop depicting a workmanlike digger, sent south by Nick's gaming friend Simon. 2. We pop into the Oxfam bookshop to show Alec to Sandra the manager, and get chatting to one of her volunteers who is a proud grandfather. "You can look at babies for hours," he says. I can only agree. 3. Shhh. One of my favourite moments of the day is when we lay the sleeping Alec in his moses basket and snuggle up together. He'll probably join us later in the night, but for now, it's just the two of us.

1. The midwife comes for her final visit. She says that Alec is lovely -- which means a lot coming from someone whose job is babies. It also means a lot because he has baby acne, scratches on his face from his long nails and flaking skin caused by his extra two weeks inside. Nick and I know he's lovely, but it must be hard for other people to see it! 2. Yvette, whose 3BT posts I mentioned earlier this week, recommended this short film about baby-led feeding . We give it a go, and marvel of marvels, Alec latches on all by himself . What a grown up boy. 3. Other new parents have told us about the interrupted meals. We have our first experience of Alec requesting a feed just as Nick brings our supper to the table. I can only plug the baby in and watch longingly as my stew and dumplings and peas and sweetcorn goes in the oven to keep warm. It tastes so good when I get it back.

Drew has posted three beautiful things over at Panic I'm Nearly 30 . Do let me know if you write your own beautiful things -- despite all the upheavals, and my current obsession with one particular baby, I am still interested to hear the best things about people's days. 1. I like the way whenever my chiropractor does an even slightly painful adjustment (which is very rarely) she says: "Still speaking to me?" 2. The automatic doors flap open. And shut. She stands just out of the rain hunched into her collar. Then her head pops up and she sets off, trailing a wisp of cigarette smoke the exact colour of her long blue coat. 3. A very wet and miserable postman brings a parcel during lunch. It's addressed to Nick, and he won't open it until he's finished eating, by which time I am nearly dying from curiosity. It's a gift from his work -- a hat box of bits for a baby boy, including a blue fleece blanket, a rattling rabbit, and a tiny pair of shoes.

1. It's a day of visitors. First PaulV comes round to meet Alec and take a few photos. Then in the evening, Katie and Jules drop by for their introduction. It is so good to see some non-baby people. 2. We tell the midwife about this morning's baby grow filler poomagedon experience. She shows us how to put a nappy on -- properly this time. "You can do the tabs up tighter than you think." And despite the extreme off-loading, Alec has put on a pleasing few ounces. 3. While Nick gets ready for bed, I sit at the kitchen table typing a post one-handed with Alec on my knee. Picture by Paul Viney

The baby now has a middle name: Alexander David Law. My grandfather was called David, and as they share a birthday it seemed appropriate. I hope that Alec will also share some of his qualities 1. I leave the house without Alec for the first time. I'm just going across the park to Hoopers to pick up a birthday present for my mother. On the way home, I think of Alec's particular baby smell and I want to cry. 2. I sit in bed on the phone to my aunt, while the bomb-proof baby sleeps on in his basket. 3. Nick patiently comforts Alec after night feeds while the wind goes its way. Alec is still getting to know his digestive system, and finds the whole thing very alarming. We tell him it will pass, and that he'll feel better, but he wrings his hands anxiously and there's a very puzzled look about his eyes.

1. Fenella visits, bringing encouraging words and an offer of babysitting -- it means a lot to have a diligent and skilled mother willing to do this for us. She also brings some clothes, including Alec's first blue item: a knitted hat the colour of hyacinths. We put it on for his walk round the park. It suits him so well that we (very) briefly consider Hyacinthus as a middle name. 2. Granny Pat comes round to meet her first great grandson. He was born on my late grandfather's birthday, which pleases her very much. She salutes Alec smartly, and tells Nick "I was in the army for two years." 3. We're getting on better with the feeding -- mainly thanks to lanolin and a very supportive husband. Nick administers the Infacol, helps with positioning and records the time and length of each session in a notebook. He winds Alec afterwards, and gives us tonnes of praise. Our first 20-minute feed made me feel on top of the world. Alec just burped.

Wow, it's photographarama today. First, two beautiful things from my mother. a. Today a white van came rattling down the track and a small movement in  the far top corner of the field turned into an avalanche of sheep  pouring towards us bleating anxiously. 'I hope you've brought something  for them too' I said to the delivery man. 'How odd' he replied and  climbed back into the van... after handing  me the parcel from John  Lewis. A natural lambskin for carseats and strollers! b. Every where has been covered in frost all day and this morning a pure  white pheasant appeared on the garden steps, but not for long. And here are my beautiful things: 1. Two of my friends post on Facebook pictures of their babies. Oli is doing a tarot card series of his son (I particularly like the Tower built from Duplo, and the guest appearance by a big sister as the Priestess); while Paul has posed his little boy in tableaux from famous films. The Good, The Bad...

1. A lovely comment from Julia on this post  about my beautician's take on night feeding. I can't wait to tell her that her thought has touched someone else as well as me! 2. We watch a historical documentary, At Home With The Georgians , in which Professor Amanda Vickery describes the origins of good taste and home-making using diaries and letters. One of the voices was particularly touching: a gauche bachelor of 24, writing in code, who was worried that his nerves would make him unable to get his future wife (he didn't marry until he was 43) pregnant. 3. Last thing at night, as we are falling asleep, we talk about our day: "I liked helping you with the dusting." "I liked the mashed swede." "I liked your sausage casserole." "I liked..."

Katie has posted a picture of the blanket she made for my increasingly spoilt baby . 1. No-one is getting much sleep at the moment -- I can't turn over in my sleep any more, and I can't sleep in one position for very long. I whisper my apologies to Nick as I make another awkward turn to get back into his arms. He says: "You're not being annoying -- you're being snuggly." 2. There are malted milks on the biscuit plate at yoga. 3. My beautician tells me to treasure the night feeds -- "When the moon is shining through the window, and it's just the two of you, and they open their eyes and look up... It's so, so special."

Enjoy your Thanksgiving, all you USA people. Today, I'm thankful for a trouble-free pregnancy. 1. A bunch of yellow roses, a toy giraffe for Baby Badger and someone else's baby sitting on my knee and grabbing my nose. 2. The delivery man puts a large parcel in my hands. 3. The midwife says that Baby Badger has shifted over to a better position -- just hoping it can keep up the good work until the big day.

Today is our first wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe it's been a year already. I don't think I've ever been more content in my life. We'll be returning to the hotel where we tied the knot later on today for afternoon tea. Nick and I have been so touched by all the love and support we've had from the people close to us, and from people who haven't met us face-to-face. I love this picture because when I saw it, it brought home how much effort people made to come to our wedding, and also the fact that they cared enough about the memory of it that they wanted to take pictures. 1. The anniversary itself is on Sunday, but we've sort of stretched out the celebrations across the whole weekend. Nick brings flowers back from town. He says he picked this bunch "because the white ones reminded me of the white roses in your wedding bouquet." The white ones turn out to be ornamental cabbages -- creamy white, flushed mauve in the centre with tiny ...

1. Katherine (who took our wedding pictures) brings us a beautiful scarlet snow suit to bundle our baby in. 2. The butcher was right -- we didn't need to do anything (except keep the joint dry) to get good crackling. 3. We watch Mark Gatiss' First Men in the Moon  -- his naive Cavor was excellent, and I loved the schoolboyish glee at their first steps on the moon. I've also been having some fun getting my head round cavorite and its possible applications.

1. It's such a bright beautiful day. The woods are wearing rags of autumn colour still, and the contrast with the winter branches makes me want to look and look. 2. The midwife says: "I can feel a back here, and I think this is a bottom up here." She says that I'll get some strange feelings in the next few weeks as Baby Badger grinds its head down into my pelvis. 3. When the time comes to make my next appointment, I ask the mother (who has offered to drive me there) when would be convenient. She shakes her head -- she doesn't mind. The midwife says: "First grandchild is it? Nothing's too much trouble, is it." I'm loving all the attention you get from being pregnant.

1. The first thing Nick says when I wake up is that when I sleep snuggled up behind him, he can feel Baby Badger moving against his back. I'm amazed to discover that BB can kick that strongly and not wake me up, and pleased to think that the two of them get some time alone together. 2. Katie has put a call out for bulb planting assistance -- so I go round and spend a few hours in her sunny back garden -- in return, I get lunch and two slices of chocolate cake. 3. There is a children's party going on in the hall across the hill. Little voices roar out cheesy pop music -- "Hey-ay-ay baby, will you be my girl?" and laugh at the DJ's jokes. A few brave souls get up to sing: "Twinkle twinkle little star" and from one rebel: "Happy birthday to you, stick your head down the loo..."

Word Imperfect is back in action with her invented meaning word game -- go on over and join in. 1. That book that Caroline thought I'd like -- she was quite right. I do really, really like it. Tim Gautreaux's Waiting for the Evening News: Stories of the Deep South . It manages to be both dark and up-lifting. These are stories about people who fall and fall, and come back stronger and wiser. 2. Nick shakes off his umbrella and pulls from his bag: a very large box of chocolates and the latest Gardener's World magazine. 3. I was emailing secret chef -- yes, we have a clandestine restaurant in the area -- asking for a quick interview, and my spell-checker flagged the word restauranteur. A quick search later, and I discovered that the word is actually restaurateur (although my spelling is just about tolerated in more liberal circles). I've never noticed that -- never seen it mentioned in all the newspaper style guides that I've read. But that's the English ...

1. The postman knocks -- he has a large but light parcel. It's a set of baby clothes, handknitted by Heather. So now I have something soft and warm to wrap my baby badger in. The little shoes make me want to cry. 2. I'm working upstairs in the early evening, and the window is open because the attic can be stuffy when the sun has been shining. I can hear the mechanical clack-clack clack-clack of a flamenco class in the TocH Hall. 3. All my biscuits fall through the wire cooling tray. "We need one with smaller holes," I tell Nick (who is proud that he has bought the finest baking equipment money can buy. He points out the bleeding obvious: "Next time, bake bigger biscuits."

1. There is another 16-week mother at my antenatal yoga group. So I'm not the baby of the class any more. 2. I go down to Oxfam to prepare for Saturday's Bookfest event. The manager shows me their box of interesting items found in books (school photos, ancient letters, yellowed pages fallen from French novels). Then we rifle through the backroom stock in search of 3BTish books for the window display. If you're in TWells tomorrow (Saturday 3 July) between noon and 3pm, please pop in and say hi, and write a beautiful thing on a bookmark to slip inside a random volume. 3. Louise comes round -- she brings news about her new job, and a birthday present. It's a book of tea-time recipes. She says it's because I'm going to be a mother, and mothers need to know all sorts of recipes that no-one else does.

1. When my glasses are smeary (everything has a blue-grey mist to it), to clean the lenses between my thumb and finger with washing-up liquid. To rinse them under the hot tap. Then to put them back on, still warm. 2. Low cloud today. The sky begins abruptly -- before the houses have even finished. 3. Nick brings home a bag of Easter chocolates from his boss.

I've just discovered Tangible Joy has been 3BTing. I like her rebellion against Starbucksification; and also her appreciation for her job. 1.  In the doctor's waiting room, two small boys (with what looks like the last of chickenpox) wait with their mother. One of them shows off his counting (he does very well, but then goes straight from 29 to 99) and the other plays "give me five... you're too slow" with his mum. He tries to distract her by telling her there's a spider on the ceiling. They make me smile; and I catch the eye of another lady who is also smiling. 2. I go for a smear test -- the nurse is kind and chatty, and it's over so quickly that I hardly realise it's happened. 3. The washing up is done, and Nick has baseball to watch. I squeeze one third of a bottle of shower gel into the bath and make myself some bubbles to hide under while I read.