9 Little MonthsOn Thursday, we celebrated 40 years of a dear friend's life and 9 months with our little girl. The balloons were for him but try telling Harlow that…


Well, that flew!

As a writer, it's cliché cringe but seriously, where has the time gone?

Time moves too fast to record in any baby book and so torturously slow on days when baby won't sleep.

It's little wonder I am a crazy person simultaneously wishing for time to stop and begging for the day to be over.

But time has not dulled the thrill of having a daughter one little bit.

9 MonthsThat little mouth!

This girl is heaven.

Of course, it is a novelty to have a daughter but it's also a novelty to have a baby in the house once again. Lately, I've been jolted out of some dishwashing/laundry folding reverie by Harlow's sweet babble. It's such a different speed to the crackling energy of her big brothers and I think I appreciate Harlow's babyhood all the more because I know too well how it is slipping through my fingers.

And how we will never be here again. This babyhood will be our last.

But it ain't over yet.

Teef - 9 months
And it has been a month of milestones for our little Harlow Rose. A first tooth and then another. Commando crawling at the speed of light. And sitting. Finally sitting! We still have to kind of prop her up first but she mostly has the hang of balancing herself there rather than toppling to the side like her little head was a lead weight.

Ain't No Thang - 9 monthsSittin' up like it ain't no thang…

Naturally, I think she is the prettiest little thing in the known universe. Of course I do.

Bed hog. Boob fiend. Beloved baby girl.

Oh, man, I could bore you to tears….


*Don't forget to enter the Stuck On You Back To School/Kinder/Put Name Labels On All Your Kid's Shit giveaway. Here! 

Hello friends


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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