Thirty Little Weeks

by | Nov 14, 2012 | Little Babies, Little Daughter, Little Lady, MOTHERHOOD | 1 comment

Squish

 

        Oh, little girl

        She of the bright blue eyes and the crooked smile

        She of the belly laughs and the wrenching sobs

        She of the kick-kick-kicking legs and the bah-bah-bahs

        She of the whatever you call the wrist version of cankles

        She who has more than thirty size 1 summer dresses (not.even.kidding.)

        She who has our hearts

 

It has been our roughest week yet. Several days in a row of high temps meant that our cruisey little lady was decidedly less so than usual. Teeth? Virus? Who knows. But thankfully, it appears to have passed. 

I hated seeing her unwell. For the first time really, she was not herself. And though I now understand the function of a fever much better than I did when Luca was a babe (and tend to panic a little less), until that fever passes, a mother's heart beats just a little faster.

I took just one photo yesterday. In the dark of her nursery, as she napped, I stole this silent moment. The slumbering face of my child, any of my children, triggers a well within me, so very ready to overflow at the sight of eyelashes feathered, rosebud mouths pouted with dreams.

What the hell am I even talking about?

You know, don't you?

 

This will be the last Little Weeks post – but never fear! I'll be moving to a monthly format instead. 🙂

Hello friends

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I’m Angie!  I mum. I write. I wife. My husband would say this is the correct order.  He’s so neeeedy. I live with my family in Melbourne, Australia, where I complain about the weather for 90% of the year – but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Except maybe in Lake Como, waving to my neighbours George and Amal each morning.

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1 Comment

  1. Greta

    Wrands? Hists?

    Yes, I understand. What a sweet moment of pure peace.

    Reply

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