Thursday, 12 November 2015

Rainy Days and Birthdays

The weather is well and truly turned, my belly is out-to-there, and my darling girl had a birthday. When I was pregnant with her, I remember thinking, 'I don't really need to worry about having this baby until autumn'. And this time, the holidays - which are fast approaching (eep!). She was absolutely showered with love, and our living room is resembling a preschool more with each passing day (but it's all cleared away by the evening, I swear!), which is actually excellent for winter. 

Just some piccies:

On her second birthday. It's hard to describe how I feel about this little person, other than to say: I love her, I love her, I love her. 

On Halloween. We found an honest-to-god pumpkin patch, and I dragged everyone into a muddy field to indulge my American traditions. I thought it was fun, anyway... F chose our pumpkin, no kidding, by smell - at least once she accepted that we were unlikely to find a blue or purple one. Apparently a 'nice one' 'smells like apple smells'. I thought it smelled like mud, but ok. 

She got to see her cousins on her birthday too. She ADORES her cousins. 

A new puzzle, which is a massive hit. 

F's living room toy basket. Have I mentioned the concept of the crap basket before? Our house is tall and narrow, so we often end up with stuff on the wrong floor, and are too lazy to ferry it up and down all day long. So we each have a basket on the ground floor, which acts as a holding bay for miscellaneous crap. Hers is a permanent toy basket, but mine and my husband's are, in theory, cleared regularly. 

Shh. The Play-Doh snakes are sleeping. 

My crap basket. Lists, paperwork, a super-nerdy coupon file. Gotta save dem pennies. 

Wooden toys, cowgirl boots. (Yes, they are leather. They were a gift.)

So we are just rolling along around here, now likely to stay fairly close to home for the next two months while we prepare to meet this new kid. I'm nervous, I'm excited, I'm obsessed with organising the house. Autumn/winter + third trimester = the nesting equivalent of the perfect storm. 

No comments:

Post a Comment