Why it's fun following in Cliff Richard’s footsteps

For the summer that wasn’t a summer, it’s been quite a summer.

My reasons are thus: 1) The day the baby stood up and ran round the house (cue fanfare, ticker tape, fireworks — I am a Jewish mother after all…).

t was an occasion entirely unforeseen, as hitherto she had not so much as taken a step. In fact, she had resolutely rejected every offer of instruction and gone out of her way to ignore the walker at all costs.

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Please, no more compliments

As any pregnancy book will tell you, there are many things that lie in store for those who are with child. A daunting list, perhaps, given that piles, varicose veins and constipation are the recurring themes in every tome I’ve ever read. But on most fronts I guess I got lucky, so I shouldn’t complain.

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A first for my baby, and for matzah meal

My baby is one.

Over the past 12 months I have watched my teeny, baldy bundle of joy blossom into a tousle-haired toddler (although I use the latter term loosely as we’re not exactly overdoing it on the ambulatory front at the moment).

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I’m too past it to party past midnight

So it’s official — I am a mid-life mum.

It could be worse. According to the NHS, the fact that I am the wrong side of 40 and have a new(ish) baby officially makes me an “older mother”.

I am only too aware of my advanced years but I do not find this label flattering. I have tried to think of an alternative.

For “old” perhaps “antique”? After all, antiques are also on the aged side yet they are both valued and cherished. I like to think that I too am valued and cherished, so does that make me an “antique mother”?

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Baby still vomiting. Must go with flow

My baby daughter has spent most of her young life with “a reputation”. Not, alas, for her sweet nature, her winning smile or even the hearty chuckle, which sounds uncannily like the expectorant hack of a 100-a-day smoker.

No. While these points have been duly noted by all concerned, they have been sadly superseded by her status as “the vomit comet”.

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I’m scared. Just don’t ask me why

The old adage would have it that the advancement of years brings with it an enhancement of knowledge. That, we are told, great age and great wisdom go together like, say, Morecambe and Wise or vorsht and eggs.

You would think that this would put me in an excellent position to deal with any questions my daughter may have when she reaches the “why?” stage.

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Lost in motherhood? Here’s my A-Z

Over the past year I have searched high and low for a manual specifically aimed at the older mother. I can only conclude that others in my position have also been forced make this mysterious, rather creaky journey without guidance.

With this in mind, a pregnant friend (who, like me, is not exactly in the first flush of youth) has asked me to prepare a handbook of my findings vis a vis the combination of middle age with new motherhood. I have been only too happy to oblige.

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