My Mabel. Four months old.
I usually strive for something heartfelt on these monthiversarys, but it's just not one of those days. I wore one slipper around for most the morning before even NOTICING I was missing my left slipper. You know. One of those days. One where this picture wouldn't even have happened if it weren't for two kids momentarily distracted by their respective Santa gifts (HOT WHEELS OMG HOT WHEELS and the FP Princess Castle I think every girl under 5 got for Christmas) and a baby who sits and smiles willingly even when she's due for a feeding because she's, you know, the best ever. Suffice it to say, my dear Mabel Gray, you're as beloved now as you were last month, and the months before that, too. You're a sweetheart baby if ever there was one. And you sleep more than I do. YOU ARE AWESOME.
I hope your Christmas was as beautiful as ours was. It wasn't perfect, they never are - Anderson barfed all over his preschool classroom the day of his Christmas program and the manger was down a donkey, Vivi was glassy eyed and cranky by the next day, and mama fell ill and didn't get out of bed until nearly dinnertime the day after that. Aaaand MG's teething. But imperfections and all, it was a truly, ridiculously, beautiful Christmas. My kids had all four grandparents on hand to love them silly, along with an uncle and an auntie and an assortment of other loved ones around to keep them very entertained. It was oh so good, yall, from start to finish. And also? We were spoiled rotten. ROTTEN, I tell you.
More on the festivities later. For now, there's a baby yelping to be freed from the exersaucer and an episode of Mickey Mouse just begging to be replayed.
Did you know I can't bake to save my soul?
20 hours ago