She was in a rush, our little girl. 1 hour and 9 minutes from the first contraction, I scooped her into my arms, and held her tight as I tumbled headlong into deep consuming love for this precious soul we’d been entrusted with. She’s cute, and clever, and talkative. She toilet trained herself at 15 months, she talks in full sentences, she runs rings round her brothers and lets them know who’s boss. She’s a clingy mama’s girls, and yet fiercely independant. “MINE DO IT!!!” she’ll tell me. And today, she marks that bittersweet moment where we say farewell to babyhood. Somehow, I seem to have blinked, and two years have raced by, and my baby is no longer a baby but a “big girl”.
And as birthdays go, it’s been pretty awesome. We’ve pottered at home, we’ve painted, we’ve played dollies, she’s sneaked a lick of the icing. Two seems to be a bit of alright, if you ask Miss Butterfly. Now all that playing has caught up with her, and she’s out for the count. My morning has trundled along productively as well, so rest time for small people equals rest time for mama. A little book is just about bound, and then I am hat sewing – I have sewing and quilting ideas coming out my ears, but I’m trying to be good and not pile up that lovely new cutting table with layers and layers of unfinished things. That’s the theory anyway. Downhill run to the weekend, time to get busy to make some big plans happens.