... had a birthday!
There aren't words for the joy this little twerp brings to our lives.
She is happy, playful and sweet, with just the right wicked little pinch of sass.
Happy first birthday, Eloise Margaret, my jolly little piglet!


It's been an excellent day. Mostly because I let it be. Because I remembered that I'm a mom first and foremost, not a housekeeper and not a cook and not a laundress. Sometimes I forget. Why do I undermine my own happiness so and waste precious hours feeling like my babies are getting in the way of my accomplishment? Can you think of any greater accomplishment than raising a tiny human? Tonight I sat on the couch playing with Eloise as Matilda ran around like a wild brumby (we just watched The Man from Snowy River) and I had a vivid flashback of sitting in that same spot with Tilly at Eloise's age. It felt kind of like having the wind knocked out of me. Surreal. Now Matilda is negotiating for "five more minutes!" of play before bed. Eloise is threatening to roll over (post edit: she rolled twice yesterday! Yikes!) Where did they go, my babies? "Time flies on wings of lightning; We cannot call it back" I cringe to think of the days I've wasted in frustration. I'm so glad that, as Anne says, "Marilla, isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?" 