My Sweet Petite is six months old! She’s halfway to ONE. She sits up, tries to crawl, has a big personality known as “Sunshine and Storms,” and is a fun little buddy. We spend most of our days reading every book she owns, playing with whatever sensory game Pinterest tells me about this week, Skyping my family in Iowa, and practicing “waiting just a minute while Momma finishes cleaning up this mess.” Stat-wise, she’s just under 20lbs (9kg) and measures 28.7inches (73cm), so she’s a tiny thing. I love her to the moon and back, and see new ways that the Lord is using her to refine me, and my marriage, every day. She is my one and only baby, and so freakin’ delicious.
Life in Queensland is hot. Literally, my house is roasting thanks to the lack of air conditioning or ceiling fans in the bedrooms. We have three pedestal fans running when Harper sleeps, and the temperature in our bedroom still hovers somewhere around 83 Fahrenheit/28 Celsius. She rocks a cloth nappy and pink singlet 80% of the time, with brief interludes of full clothing when we take our daily, long-ass walk. The cat is molting at an alarming rate, despite our grooming efforts. I pray for cooler weather, really.
So…I’m crazy blessed by this life I’m allowed to live. We’re well provided for by Harli’s job, and I want for little. But, there are days when I’m bored, impatient, sick of hearing Harper squeal and fight sleepiness, miss earning a paycheck, etc etc etc, and on those days, I feel like a wretched failure. When I snap at my logic-less baby for being just that, I’ll admit that I feel like the world’s worst mother. But, grace abounds.
I promise to pop in more often, seeing as I suddenly have a host of dreams and aspirations to share. Weekly updates, how-to’s, you know the drill. Also, the literary quality of things should go up. Just saying.
Maybe I’ll even start a Youtube channel! Yea? That’s what mummies do, right? Right?