You know how I’ve been all glowy and gushing about my baby
daughter? You know how no matter how much she refuses to sleep through the
night or plans to breastfeed into middle age that I’ve loved her face off?
Yes, I have loved her unconditionally.
See this face? This is the face of the baby that will kill
me. Plenty (two) have tried before her but she will be the one. And oh, the
irony of that. This much longed for daughter laying me to waste.
We all knew it was coming.
My mother hoped it was coming.
But we all thought it was another ten years off at least.
No, this ridiculously adorable baby is driving me to
The non-speaking of any actuals words….ing.
Harlow Rose is a 24/7 pain in my arse.
I wuv her!
Eighteen months old. Halfway to two.
It’s the combo of doom.
She’ll stand at the back door and cry (or make this weird
ehhhgh, ehhhgh, ehhhgh kind of cry/groan sound) until I let her into the back yard.
Then she’ll stand at the swings and do the same thing.
Why so needy, baby?
She wants what she wants but has no words to tell me. There
was a time when “Eee! Eee! La? La?” meant ‘gimme’ but now it’s just ‘eh’ and
pointing. I can’t decide whether it's adorable or annoying.
She likes to shake her drink bottle upside down and then she’ll
“eh eh” me until I give her a paper towel to clean up the water on the floor.
She seems very proud of her helpful ways. I want to explain to her that it’s
not really helping if she makes the mess on purpose but I suspect she will not
be listening to me.
Baths – Yes!
Changing nappy – No!
Eating – Which way is the wind blowing? Maybe!
All I know is, I can not read Iggle Piggle’s Lost Blanket to
this kid one more time. I can’t do it.
Okay. I’ll do it.