I’ve been tardy on the writing front. No words on the blog, no words in the pretty journal. No words even for Raeann’s little book. No words. We were busy meeting babies and mommies and families and friends (primary schoolmates! bloggers! bandmates! good goblins! gideon! wow!), and at the end of the day, I’m just too fuzzy-brained to create.
While breastfeeding just now, I had a moment to slow down, a moment to myself. I relished in the familiar sights and sounds of the homeland – Latte’s barks, the humidifier puffing out cool white mists like low clouds, the clatter of the ceramic bowls in the kitchen. I told myself I’ve got to blog these down. For what, I don’t know. Maybe that’s just me – the mundane stimulate me. The mundane’s brain-numbing, in a good way.
And then I looked down at the little bub suckling away. Her baby hair, too soft. Her legs, wrapped up snuggly in her jammies. Her long eyelashes forming little shadows on her little face. She’s turning one soon. One year old, you know? One year old, can you believe it? One year old!
I’m praying that she’s not going to blame us for a low-key first birthday. There isn’t going to be any party. No fancy cake. In a reverse fashion, we’re making cards for the folks – this will be our birthday ritual for Missy Raeann. A reminder for her to give thanks to those who have given so selflessly, to those who love her so muchly. We’re going for lunch with the folks, and spending the day out in the sun. I’m baking her birthday cake – nothing pretty, just good old chocolate cake with peppermint frosting, with a few rainbow-coloured candies thrown in for good measure. (I always like my cakes old-fashioned, imperfect-looking – I even like bumps and cracks because they look just so homey.) Daddy’s making her something (it sounds really exciting!), Mommy’s writing her something. We’ve a grand plan to paint her a mural on her wall, though till now, it remains a plan.
An intimate celebration it will be. For our little girl who’s the biggest thing in our lives. She’ll learn what it means to be contented. A sort of peace that is lasting and pure. A gratefulness for things and people that should never be taken for granted.

Taken by D at Elliot's party.

Another one by D.

In the dress lovingly sewn by my lovely mother-in-law
This week is so full of confetti. Five lovely, lovely things I absolutely have to post-it::



















