It’s raining. It’s pouring. It seems to be ages since I woke up with rain splattering hard on the windows. It’s been going hard since about 5.30am. PartyPie kindly got me up at 6am - I think to let me know that today she is six months and one day old. How weird is that? I look back on photos of her when we came home from the birth centre and gasp at her smallness (even though eight pounds three ounces felt anything but).
Yesterday we went op-shopping to celebrate. I got a beaded silvery dress that will be appropriate for my invite to the Savage Club at the end of the month (am not sure how I will be able to go unless M wanders the city with PartyPie, bringing her to be fed and then disappearing again, but still…) and Small Z got a hot pink velour number. We bought M two work shirts and some trousers.
Small Z lay on the floor of the change room on top of my coat while I shimmied in the dress, and seemed quite happy with her lot. Admittedly, our shopping was also retail therapy to try and help our sadness at having to cancel our holiday to northern NSW at the end of the month
Oh, woe. We booked it back in about January on a post-birth high, forgetting about important things like MONEY, MONEY and MONEY. Gah. We did want to see our lovely friends and their lovely baby Small M who is just one month younger than Z. I plan to buy a Powerball ticket today.
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