Top Cat Pics
We have two cats: Indah, who is grey, grumpy, and close to fifteen years old; and Ana, who is fluffy, friendly, and not overly gifted in the brain department. From the time I was pregnant, Ana began mucking up – she stayed out on the town for several nights at a time; she visibly lost weight; she grew ill; she got into fights. All in all, she displayed a textbook case of sibling rivalry – she was no longer the youngest, cutest thing around. But she slowly, slowly came to accept this new beastie in her life, and discovered that the most efficient way to get patted was to drape herself elegantly within reach of the grabby thing. It’s a risky strategy, but both she and Louisette are getting much better at it.
Without further ado, the year in cats, from when Louisette was barely a month old:
On 2 Jan she had her first “educational moment” with Indah, who when provoked offered several warning meows and finally lashed out and drew two tiny dots of blood. Hopefully both of them learned from the experience – normally Indah is smart enough to move to higher ground much sooner. But Ana will now approach her for a pat:
A full year in daily pictures!!
This is it: the final month of daily pictures. You can see the rest here (just keep scrolling down). I have been sorting them into special albums – funny, cats, sheer cuteness – for weeks now and soon you will see some truly excellent collections. Stay tuned! You can also see the official 365 photos (only one a day, but you can view them month by month which is fascinating) here.
Louisette had her first birthday yesterday. She has just started walking on her own (see the real live video on facebook!), and we couldn’t be more impressed. Her first Christmas was a blast, and yesterday was her birthday (the last ten photos are all from yesterday – I took hundreds of photos since it was the last day of daily pictures and I wanted to make sure I ended well).
Battles Lost, Won, and Ongoing
Destruction of Books (board and pages)
We have a LOT of books just for Louisette. About a hundred paper books, and thirty board books (most of them secondhand, hence the sheer bulk). She loves playing with them, and rarely actively destroys them – yet. So this battle hasn’t truly joined yet, and may never occur. If I notice her tearing a book apart, I’ll generally say, “No tearing. Gentle.” and put it on a high shelf. Pop-up books are doomed from birth, though.
Score: Parents: 1 Books: 1
TV/Computer
CJ and his dad both have ADD (now called ADHD whether there’s a hyperactive component or not – which, mercifully, there isn’t in this case) and some research suggests that cutting out TV altogether for at least the first two years may help limit its effects. So we decided, with a healthy amount of caveats (including the all-encompassing, “Well, we’ll just see how it goes”) to try to never watch TV or use the computer when Louisette was in the room. We made exceptions for holidays, for when I was babysitting other children, and for those few seconds as I set a show to tape – but we did it. At least, we did it for TV. Perhaps even more remarkably, CJ almost never uses his iphone when Louisette is around (this is a man who will play on his phone while watching TV – welcome to ADHD). This means a lot to me in terms of modelling polite human-to-human behaviour – something her generation will need a lot of help with.
But we slid slowly and surely into “Meh” on the computer front. We don’t play videos when she’s in the room, but everything else is fair game – even when it’s me alone with her (emailing, checking I have at least one not-too-blurry pic for the day, etc). She limits this to a certain extent by simply not liking it – I’ll do emails and look at photos, but I won’t write novels or browse the net if she’s with me (unless CJ is playing with her).
Overall, we’ve done pretty well.
Score: Parents 1, Meh 1.
Hats
I’ll generally put a hat on her as we go outside (and one for me too, for role modelling). She’ll generally take off her hat and play with it.
Score: Parents 0, Louisette 1.
Socks/shoes
As soon as the weather got above really cold we let her go barefoot. It was conveniently timed for just after she started actively removing her socks every three seconds.
In late November she began showing signs of walking soon, so we girded our loins and went to buy shoes – only to find they’re not recommended for several months yet.
Score: Pretty much even…so far.
Food/mess vs independence
Feeding Louisette has been pretty miserable from day one (no, that’s not quite true – it was day four that things really turned sour). Breastfeeding problems & machines, breastfeeding in public and while travelling, wind (much screaming), reflux (much screaming), teething (screaming), hatred of sitting still and especially being buckled in (screaming), longing for full eating independence (screaming).
Louisette neatly solved the dilemma of, “Should I keep breastfeeding when I desperately hate it?” by refusing to breastfeed at all from three months of age (this is a fight I won’t waste myself over nearly so much next time).
We started her on solids pretty early, and I was SO excited about things getting better feeding-wise. They got so much worse, and stayed that way for months. But nowadays they’re pretty good. Mostly. I walk the line between Louisette’s growing independence/screaming about her lack of independence and the desire to keep her semi-chewed food out of my hair, clothes, ears, furniture, and rental property. At the moment her breakfast and lunch have a spoon-fed section (for messy things such as stewed fruit and yogurt, or meat) and then a larger self-fed section (toast, grated cheese and vegetables, crackers), and I shake out her drop cloth up to three times a day (we have no yard and no grass so at some point one of our neighbours will politely ask me to stop depositing cheese etc into the communal carpark each day. Or possibly they’re glad about the increased bird life). She has a water bottle on a low table that she drinks from often, and generally goes through two or three outfits a day. She also hates bibs, and pulls them off (we start with two – one cloth one plastic – at each meal).
For most younguns, spoon feeding is neater. This (and much screaming) is what happened at lunch a few days ago, when I attempted to spoon feed her from a packet rather than letting her (mostly) self-feed (she started with two bibs, as per usual):
Score: Hard to say. Things are getting better on both sides, but I still dread all her meals, and both of us get desperately frustrated sometimes. Sidebar: It is hot enough inside that grated cheese will melt and stick to any surface (cloth, plastic, wood, metal, etc).
Snatching
This is a battle that has to start early and never stop. Louisette often interacts with other very young kids, and I intervene every single time I see either party snatch from the other. This gets very repetitive very fast, but that’s just the way it is. She has already shown signs of improvement, however, so that’s good.
Parents: Almost 1. Louisette: Approximately 0
Respect to cats (and dogs)
Again, this battle has to start early and never stop. She got her first cat scratch the other day (very very minor, and washed with antiseptic), which I was hoping wouldn’t happen for another six months or so, but neither party was actually injured and I think they both learned something. Louisette is pretty darn good with the cats. Ana will approach her (nervously, but she IS a cat after all) for a pat.
Parents: 1. Louisette: .5 Cats: .5
Please and thank you/ta
I keep forgetting to say ta instead of thank you. I can’t remember if I say please.
Parents: 0 Manners: Non-existent.
Safety – electrical cords, heights, water
Despite her determination, I still don’t let Louisette play with electrical cords. Ever. She never goes to any place anywhere without going to the cords at least once (the ones in our living room, kitchen, and her room are all gaffa taped and/or hidden, which is a mercy).
She can get down off the couch safely 99 out of 100 times, and no longer tries to go headfirst off furniture. I’m working on teaching her how to get down off higher things (such as her change table) because she’ll soon be climbing onto them. She climbed onto a couch for the first time yesterday.
After MUCH effort, she will now put her full face underwater and blow bubbles. She loves the water, and if she ever manages to fall into a body of water she won’t necessarily panic herself to death.
Parents: 3 Baby:0
Dirty face/clothes
She’s pretty much always 90% clean or more. Her mum has inclinations towards OCD. So. . . yay?
Parents: 1 Baby: 0
Respectable hair/long hair
I really wanted to grow her hair long as fast as possible, so tried so so hard to train her hair to go sideways (rather than directly over her face). Once she started pulling out her own hair clips and ties, it got harder. At last I realised this was a stupid battle and once her hair was heavy enough it’d all work fine. So I cut a fringe.
Parents: 0 Rationality: 1
Sleep
We tried a bit of controlled crying (that’s when you let the child cry a little while before going in to comfort them, so they eventually learn to sleep without you there) when she was very young. It was, in my opinion, far too young. From 2-4ish months she settled only with us holding her hand (and with a dummy etc, although she did and does have the ability to fall asleep almost anywhere). From 4-11 months we needed to be in the room, within sight. Then she started really getting into playing, “Fetch my dummy and/or I’ll scream at you” so in the Christmas holidays we did controlled crying again, and (except for a few times when she got her leg trapped between the bars) it went very smoothly, and is now about 90% reliable. We just say, “Good night Lizzie, sleep tight” and walk out. It still takes her up to an hour to actually sleep, but she does it by herself. Amazing! In my opinion, we timed the controlled crying perfectly the second time. She was old enough to not get upset, but young enough that she couldn’t climb out of the cot and lose all chance of settling.
Parents: 1 Baby: 0
There are plenty of battles still to come, but that’s plenty for now. The main thing is that we’ve all survived so far.
Parents: Infinity. Baby: Infinity.
In the laughing chair
The two girls I used to mind after school are moving, and Louisette ended up with some of their castoffs including this Louisette-sized couch. I noticed some photos I’d taken of it had nice composition, and I felt like it was about time I took another really good photo – one with nice composition, a nice (or interesting) facial expression on the munchkin, and, simultaneously, no blurring.
So I took eighty photos in an hour, and these were my favourites (she finds the chair hilarious for some reason):
Pregnancy: Looking back, looking forward
It’s been almost a year now since the horror show of pregnancy ended in the spectacular bloodbath of birth.
Okay, so I’m probably not meant to refer to birth that way, but it’s the simple truth. Ditto on my description of pregnancy.
Have you ever tried to meditate for, say, twenty minutes? The thoughtless thoughtfulness is really difficult.
When I think of pregnancy, I think of the zen-like state in which I held myself for weeks at a time. I needed to focus my mind in order to not throw up. Most importantly, I needed to not think about why I was concentrating so hard. So I spent weeks looking at my curtains, thinking over and over, “Look at my curtains. What great curtains. I really like those curtains.” Then I noticed the hints of orange in the curtains, and I couldn’t bear to look at them (because orange = spew). So I spent several more weeks looking at the pretty curly bedhead of my bed, thinking, “Look at my bedhead. What a great bedhead. I really like that bedhead.” Considering that my “morning” sickness was 24-7 for eight months; that I lost seven kilos in first trimester; and that I had difficulty drinking water/brushing my teeth/walking up the stairs – I threw up very rarely. Hurrah?
Sidebar: I was oddly disturbed to hear about Duchess Kate getting bad morning sickness. Then I resolved my discomfort by deciding that morning sickness will henceforward be called “The Duchess Disease”. Much more glamorous that way.
After about six weeks of focused not-vomitation, first trimester was over and I was well enough to watch TV (being that well? Super exciting). I watched almost every minute of the entire Tour de France (which, incidentally, was a spectacularly good year for an Australian to watch it). For those familiar with the event, you’ll understand that it wasn’t a great mental leap from, “Ooh, curtains” to “Ooh, look! Another castle. Oh, and bikes. Lots of bikes.” I still threw up a little bit, but oh well.
And there was muscle pain (the hormone relaxin makes all your muscles – most noticeably the back muscles – go smoosh so that your bones can move around to let the baby out – which is awesome, except that the effect kicks in months in advance), baby-kicking-me-in-the-guts pain, constant indigestion (especially at night – I didn’t lie down properly for months – which struck me as grievously unfair when I was so tired) and assorted other effects. In short, it sucked. Two hours after giving birth, I felt better than I’d felt since the first fortnight of knowing I was pregnant. I could eat, and drink water, and lie down, and everything!
Also, ya know, there was a baby around. That was cool.
I managed to get through both pregnancy and birth with no emotional trauma, but I do view the next pregnancy with some purely rational dread. How will we go financially when I’m probably unable to work for about a year? How will CJ handle having the entire weight of all household responsibilities fall on him (I would argue that he is mentally traumatised from the last experience of having an extremely sick wife) – again? What will happen to Louisette when her mum is too sick to pick her up for almost a third of her young life?
I am genuinely traumatised by breastfeeding. As a little girl I was taught that my private parts were private – I didn’t flash them around to anyone outside of my family, and I understood without being told that if anyone touched them without my permission then something was very wrong. It’s true that I’m not a little girl any more, but I’m never going to be okay with how public all my private parts have become. Birth at least only happens once: breastfeeding happens constantly; anywhere and anywhen the baby screams for it. There’s nothing you can do about it other than not breastfeed (sidebar: anyone who makes a woman feel bad for breastfeeding in public deserves to starve and see how they like being hungry and scared and not knowing when the food will ever happen again). Like everything else to do with the female reproductive system (the male system is all hugs and puppies – metaphorically speaking), it hurts. But for me the emotional side was the worst. I felt violated, and still do. I’m not actually crying as I wrote this, but it wouldn’t take much to tip me over the edge.
Sidebar: All the mountainloads of crap that Mother Nature gives to women are worth it for getting first dibs on being the stay-at-home parent. Seriously. And I’m not a baby person (there are good hormones, too – nature WANTS you to like being around your child, and basically gives you a high whenever you look at them. See Appendix A: this blog for the last year).
Physically speaking I was lucky; Louisette refused to breastfeed once she was a few months old – and before she had teeth. Next time I hope CJ will have six weeks’ parental leave instead of four (he’ll need to use holiday leave, of course); I plan to aim for three months of breastfeeding rather than a year; and I think it’s PRETTY unlikely I’ll be breastfeeding on any of the streets of Beijing this time. I also won’t take any milk-increasing medicine (especially the one that makes you gain weight – yeah, awesome, thanks. I didn’t feel horrible enough about myself before, apparently) and if I don’t produce enough milk I’ll just use bottles rather than expressing (often while the baby screamed to be held) multiple times a day. And after all that, if I want to stop for whatever reason, I’ll stop.
I’m in my thirties now, and 3 out of 6 members of our immediate biological families have had some kind of fertility issue with their second child – so I definitely don’t want to put it off too long. I’ve had some physical indicators that things might not be as easy conception-wise next time (but none of them actually concerning. . . . probably). Besides, I want to get the pregnancy over with (the good news is that we only ever wanted two kids). When I think of my future I see a time of peace followed by a time of “thar be monsters” (that’s pregnancy: all sea-serpents and whirlpools) followed by uncharted waters – because every child is uncharted waters.
I also don’t know what will happen to me after next time (let’s not even get into how the kid turns out). It’s normal to take about six weeks to recover from a birth – that’s probably about the amount of time I took to be “mostly okay”. Louisette was a giant baby (adorably, reassuringly giant, at 4.15 kilos – an average baby is 3 kilos) which was probably a factor in my back pain being pretty difficult both before and after she was born (imagine carrying two 2-litre milk bottles around with you every day and all night, and you’ll get the idea). The muscle pain took a very long time to wear off – five months or so – and just when I was getting a few days a week without pain my hip fell out of place (relaxin hormone being overenthusiastic, again – a common post-pregnancy issue).
I’m doing fine now hip-wise, but Louisette’s current ten kilos is way too much for me to lift safely (ever – of course I lift her anyway), and all my muscles remain a bit iffy – including, randomly, my wrists (another common post-pregnancy thing). There’s a few other things wrong here and there, some of them private and some not. Standing, walking, and lifting will probably be markedly more difficult for the rest of my life. Pregnancy and birth aged me abut five years, I think. Unfortunately, I can even see it in my face. I’ve been sick a lot this year too, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m suddenly much older physically or just because there’s a baby around keeping me from resting or sleeping when I need it. CJ has changed too, and his body hasn’t been through anything except the usual daily pummelling from an energetic little monster.
My body shape is drastically different than it was. It’s been eight months since I stopped breastfeeding but it’s clear my breasts haven’t got the message. After losing weight, then travelling overseas, then losing it, then starting a new job, then losing it, then getting quite sick, and now losing it again – I weigh about what I did a week after giving birth. Most of my pregnancy weight is still with me, as anyone can see just by looking at me.
Sidebar: It’s hard to motivate myself to diet because the body always says, “Arg! I’m starving!” and makes me physically shaky and miserable – and I know I’ll be pregnant again before too long, and all my work will be undone. But at the same time, an overweight woman is far more likely to have trouble conceiving. Trying to conceive is a strange limbo, and one I don’t handle well at all.
I have heaps of clothes I can’t possible wear, and I still have no idea where my body will end up. Shopping for clothes is a completely different experience, although I’m starting to learn some clothing methods that look better. I’ve also seen my waist return to me (somewhat obscured by lard but *I* can see it), so there’s hope that I won’t look four months’ pregnant (as I do now) forever. But no guarantees, especially with another pregnancy on the way some day.
Unsurprisingly, I’m nervous about where my body will end up.
It’s possible – even likely – that my second pregnancy will be a LOT better than the last one. Women who are stressed/busy (eg with a toddler!) tend to have milder pregnancies, and I won’t have the first-timer’s sense of sailing into the vast unknown (we’re loving the seafaring metaphors today, aren’t we?) But I’ve already begun battening down the hatches in preparation: I’ll grow out my fringe, make sure my dentist and doctor have seen me, set up online grocery shopping, and stock the fridge full of single-serve home-made meals (for CJ to eat, or possibly – hopefully – both of us). Before going off contraceptives, CJ and I will toilet train Louisette so she’s a bit cheaper and easier to maintain (for me or for babysitters – we’ll be calling in help from every family member and friend who doesn’t despise children), and CJ will build up a lot of flex-time at work. I’ll prepare CJ in advance to pay all our bills on time and correctly (literally the only household task I still did while pregnant, and although I tried super hard to get everything right I failed utterly. I just didn’t have enough mind left to enter numbers into a box on a screen). We’ll do our best to have a stable (and stair-less) home (not this one; it’s just been sold and our contract – which we cunningly renewed just before it sold so we kept the low rent – will run out in July) to live in until well after Puggle is born.
That’s right. We’re calling our second baby Puggle (that’s a baby platypus, usually) until we know if it’s a boy or a girl.
And I can’t wait until they’re here 🙂
A Pirate Born and Bred
When we were at the coast, we stayed at Captain’s Cottage in Longbeach. The “cottage” looks like this:
Yep, that’s a lighthouse. For reals. Inside it had all the usual beachhouse paraphernalia, plus a whole lot of really top-notch beachhouse paraphernalia, including a “bridge” outfitted with brass speaking tubes (soon to be connected to other parts of the house) and real pieces from a real 1930s cargo ship.
I took all four kids – bear in mind two were very sick, one is teeny tiny, and one is a toddler at nap time – dressed them in pirate attire, and had them pose in the bridge. This was the best shot of the results:
CJ and Louisette looked pretty good:
But (for obvious reasons) it’s this serendipitous sequence that made my day:
At which point CJ stepped in and rescued the little treasure from our scallywag – not for the first time, and not for the last either.
First Christmas
One of the excellent side effects of having a baby in January is that by the time their first Christmas rolls around they actually get it. Louisette mastered unwrapping in moments (sometimes using her teeth) but tended to actually look at and examine the contents (and of course the paper) instead of hurling it aside and plunging into the next gift. Does she not understand Christmas at all??
It was an excellent day(s), and we used up six camera batteries. Need I say more?
The grandparents were super awesome and asked us what we recommended for Louisette’s presents.
One side bought her a proper walker. She began using her car as a walker literally on Christmas Eve. Perfect timing!
The other side bought two of those cot toys that you hang on the bars – very important as well as fun, because she’s been getting nightmarishly difficult to settle, and having something mildly amusing (and, ideally, something that she doesn’t immediately throw onto the floor) is the best thing for keeping her sitting or lying inside the cot until she realises she’s sleepy. (We’ll be doing some serious sleep training these holidays, while CJ is here for moral support and I have barely any work.)
We bought her an “adventure” tent – two small tents with a tunnel joining them:
My mum was disturbed that I hadn’t asked for anything super expensive (not for Louisette, anyway 🙂 ) and when I saw Louisette’s 2-year old cousin playing with a cardboard box I said, “That! Get her a cardboard box like that!” It says plenty about her age group that Louisette absolutely LOVES it:
The Penultimate Month
I’m pretty delighted to have just one more month of daily Louisette photos to go (and then I get to SORT them into my favourites – I can’t wait!) To see the rest, click here and scroll down.
In the last month she suddenly got a lot better with her hands (clapping, Indian war cry, undoing nappies and pants, pointing) and saying “cat” (more like “gat” but it’s clear what she’s talking about) and she played on a real live beach for the first time.
Sarcastic Christmas Letter
This has been a particularly well-photographed year, and a pleasant one, so here’s a superfast mostly-visual rundown of 2012:
January: Louisette was born. Being not pregnant is STILL exciting, outweighed only by the presence of Louisette herself.
February: Sleeeeepy.
March: And then we went to Hong Kong. Because international travel is what ALL the baby books recommend. The fantastic mountains + ocean and islands + skyscrapers of Hong Kong will always be a favourite world location for me, and we took heaps of photos with which to taunt Louisette when she grows up enough to complain that we never go anywhere exciting.
April: And then we went to Beijing (and of course the Great Wall) for the wedding of CJ’s brother. A brilliant trip (with some brief excursions into tiredness hallucinations/psychosis for me – Louisette travelled way better than I did) and the best kind of wedding – the kind where you’re delighted about the bride and groom getting together, and so is absolutely everyone else. This trip is probably why Louisette is so chilled out about changes in temperature, company, and noise. Nothing phases her.
May: I didn’t QUITE win $10,000 for my steampunk novel (I came either second or third in the Text Publishing Prize, and received. . . a hearty congratulations) – but I did have my first Mothers’ Day.
Yep, that’s me wiping up some spew.
Louisette turned out to be a surprisingly generous gift-giver, however, so it’s all good.
June: I cut back heavily on my writing – for the first time in my life, I had something better (and more fun) to do: watch Louisette take on the world. (This did not mean stopping twittertales, blogging, or sending books to publishers.)
I became a playgroup addict, going to three a week.
July: My sister and her family came back to Canberra from Perth, meaning that all Louisette’s cousins now live in the same city. Other than, well, having Louisette, this was the best thing that happened this year.
Make that the third-best.
I also began working a significant number of hours per week (babysitting with two primary-age girls and taking Louisette with me), and I’m still heartily enjoying my sharp increase in sanity (after seven years of crazy, that would be the second-best thing that happened this year**). The connection between “less writing” and “more sanity” has not been lost on me, although the sanity definitely came first.
The first picture is Louisette with all her cousins*, and the second is with my after-school girls.
*Watch this space 🙂
The fourth, fifth and sixth-place winners are, in order:
Louisette refused to breastfeed past a few months of age – THANK YOU, baby.
We have a new fridge.
Bil and Bonnie’s wedding in April (okay, yes, they’re outranked by our fridge. If you knew our fridge, you’d understand).
August: Louisette’s youngest cousin was born – her new favourite chew toy. Meanwhile, Louisette suddenly got mobile. She hasn’t stopped laughing maniacally to herself since.
September: CJ’s first Fathers’ Day. I began working full-time (four jobs altogether, all of which let me take Louisette along) – and, until I got bronchitis, it was awesome. (Since then two of my families have shifted but my workload is similar.)
October: Louisette was born with a tiny skin tag on her face. She had it removed – and was an absolute champion the whole time.
November: It became clear that independent standing and walking isn’t far away. Soon she will be a toddler – literally.
December: Beach trip!! Staying at a lighthouse!! With my my entire family!! (All my side, anyway – I have grandiose plans to get ALL our close family together just once in February – including Bil and Bonnie and Louisette’s godparents – all of whom live overseas).
All in all, an amazing year. Merry Christmas, everyone. Remember to eat a lot – but choose your food wisely. Glitter looks a lot better than it tastes.
PS I forgot (*gasp*) to post the month of daily photos this month, so that’ll happen on Wednesday.
Funny Faces
These are the photos of Louisette that I find funny – often just because of her facial expression. Only the birthday cake photo was posed – the rest just happened.
0-1 month:
No! Not without makeup on!
Ninja baby only pretends to sleep.
Fart face.
What on EARTH is that pink flailing thing, and why is it following me?!?
The eternal, “Huh?”
1-2 months:
Mmm, tasty.
Mwa haha! They’ll never catch me!
Suspicious baby.
Oh no! They’re on to me!
Okay, this one was posed (or was it?)
I respectfully disagree.
2-3 months:
And this one (the hard part is always getting the zip done up, am I right?)
That bag was a lifesaver while travelling (it’s designed as a stroller insert, and worked great as a handbag/cot).
I’m watching you, Mr Elephant. Don’t make any sudden moves.
Could I be any more ladylike?
Music! Flashing lights! Arg!
3-4 months:
Winner!
Nom nom.
I’m so nervous chewing my nails just isn’t enough.
Holding Hands With A Boy.
I would have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for those darn kids.
A-a-almost got it. . .
Why does that giraffe have a rainbow shoved through its skull?
Flipper baby
Okay, I can explain! See there was this thing, and then I just. . .
Yo, bring me a cold one, wouldya?
First dates are always so awkward. What am I meant to say?
Pfft.
4-5 months:
What could possibly go wrong?
Look what I caught!
Why won’t the book open?
Darn it, I KNEW I’d forgotten something!
They grow old so fast.
Sneaking up on the enemy.
Drop bear.
I can eat the caterpillar, and my hand, and the world – simultaneously.
Sadly, her actual hair.
5-6 months:
Fascinated by her cousin.
Why do you want to eat the table, sweetheart?
Because it’s there.
Obviously hiding SOMETHING.
Kissing frogs.
Easy to hold onto, not so easy to put in her mouth.
And the feeling is mutual.
Whatever works.
Mirror, mirror – who on earth is in there?
Suspicion versus further fascination.
Dressed as the hungry caterpillar, and hungry for the hungry caterpillar book. (The combination of outfit and book was deliberate.)
Yeaaaaahh!
6-7 months:
and three seconds earlier:
How does she already know she wants lollies? She’s not on solids yet.
Nom nom.
Saucepan!!!!! Woooohooooo!!!!!!!!!!
Thanks, poppy. I’ll be taking that now.
Would you keep down that racket?
And then the Irishman said, “I’ll be having mine with potatoes!”
Mine.
Once she could crawl, it suddenly got very difficult to keep her in frame.
But I LIKE drinking this way.
Wassamatter?
8-9 months:
Nom nom.
Mine.
Hark! Is that Prince Charming, come to take me away on his white horse?
Just not that impressed.
Box!!!! Wooo!!
Mister? Mister, wake up!
Her natural hairstyle.
Being a baby takes a lot of concentration.
Nom nom.
Yes, she’s blowing a raspberry (her idea; she invented the technique without ever seeing it done). Yes, that’s a grand piano in the background.
Nom nom.
I believe I mentioned she suddenly became a great deal harder to photograph. This represents 90% of the photos I’ve taken ever since.
Nom nom.
Buddy? Are you okay up there?
9-10 months:
Punk princess.
Pushing boundaries.
Still working on that “eating” technique.
Bad hair day.
Yes, she’s genuinely asleep with her face on her own legs.
Eating a peg and apparently kind of angry about it.
What do you mean she’s not a chew toy? (This is after repeated attempts at sucking on her littlest cousin – not all of them unsuccessful.)
This is such a drag.
Is it coffee time or what?
Talk to the hand.
Baby death-glare.
Truth in advertising (read her shirt).
Mmm. . . coke. . .
And THIS is how I get dow—arg!
About time somebody cleaned up around here.
10-11 months:
Hurrah!
Eeevil baby.
A little but of shush, please. I’m talking.
Ten seconds later:
Leggo of me, Poppy! I’m doing fine.
Would she gain the ability to reach the presents before Christmas? It was a close-run thing.
11-12 months:
Nome nom. 
Nom nom.
Who says you need a dog to tidy up?
Marry me, Justin Bieber!!!!
I ordered my latte five minutes ago. Where IS that incompetent new assistant of mine?
Is there something on my face?
Aargg, noooo!!!
Aaaalmost there. . . .
Not happy, Jan.
Cleanliness is next to annoyingness.
I gotta drink up before they find me.
Eureka! One year old!
Felicity Banks 