Yes, I remember the horrors of mixed feeding, potty training, sleepless nights, and getting up at 5.45 a.m. to keep company with a bouncy, dewy-eyed toddler who has had quite enough sleep for one night, thank you very much.
What I didn't remember until I was chez the West Coast Hepworths in SF was the sheer relentlessness of caring for two toddlers from morn till night. (Though Lux, at 3, says she’s not a toddler, but a “big kid.”)
This is me taking her to gym class:
Cece is 16 months. Here she is plotting mischief:
Here she is, enjoying some yoghurt:
My mission this trip was not to go gallivanting with the Aging Hippie, though I did spend a couple of days with her, talking politics, families, travel, books and life:
No, my mission was to spend time with the family and help out when I could. This included reading The Highway Rat three times a day – an easy and enjoyable task, adoring Julia Donaldson books as I do.
This was one Sunday morning:
I did have one wild night out, with Isaac and Wendy. It began with a pedicure…
…and ended with me tottering home at the end of a hilarious evening. I’m telling you now that two tall margaritas is too much for this grandmother. So much so that although I was sharing a room with Lux, I didn’t hear her crying in the middle of the night. I am growing old disgracefully – but only when I am in San Francisco. I think my daughter-in-law may have something to do with it…
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