I was at work late last night, and then headed out with an old friend who reminded me at 8pm that I was supposed to be meeting him for dinner. Oops. In any case, it was lucky I'd actually dressed ok that morning because I'd completely forgotten. But after being at work 13 hours I looked terrible and I smelled worse. He was gracious enough not to mention though, and it was a fun night after an aggravating evening at work. After I dropped him off at his place, I drove home through the quiet streets and listened to the radio and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. At one red light I looked up, and above me was a wattle tree, about to burst into bloom, and I smiled. I've fallen in love twice under sprigs of wattle, and it remains one of my favourite flowers.
Anyhow, that was a long tangential ramble to explain why I missed Day 9 of the photo meme - someone you love. The difficulty being of course choosing just one picture when there are so many loved ones. I could choose the friends I saw last night, who have seen me tired and miserable and crying but joyful and drunk and disinhibited as well. Who have carried me home (almost literally) as I slurred my everlasting gratitude love for them. Who have eaten fresh pasta after I've rolled it for them and hugged me when exams were over.
I could show you my parents, who I understand a lot better now that I am one, and who I am heart squeezingly proud of as well as loving them to bits. I could show you how happy they look these days now that they are winding down from the ridiculous years of work and kids, and get to enjoy the spoils.
I could show you my aunties and uncles, my cousins and second cousins, all close, all get together a couple of times per year to eat too much and talk loudly. I could show you Bingley's family, and his extended family that wrap around us like a sorely needed blanket when things feel like they're unravelling and threadbare. Who I know would always support him and my babies, and who have supported me as well.
I could show you Bingley, who is making macarons in his quest for dominance over the perfect shell with feet, with a slightly maniacal look in his eye as he prods his macaronage to assess the bubbles. Who I woke up curled into this morning, with Oscar the cat, our first baby snuggled into my belly feeling warm and snug. Who nuzzled my hair as he stroked my hip and whispered "shouldn't you be going to work?".
I could show you the Possum, whose second birthday entry is still in a drafts folder and who has been snuggly and warm and adorable. Who is making more sounds and coming closer and closer to speech, as we encourage him with his different noises and sign language. Who is ruddy cheeked and golden haired and universally adored. Who is awake far past his bedtime, playing trains in the play room with the Elfling who is watching a movie and the Monkey who has passed out.
I could show you the Monkey whose curls could be a post of their own. Whose fierce temper and loving spirit make me want to scoop her up and hug her til she squeals most days. My funny quirky girl, who crawls into bed with me most nights, snuggles into the groove she found when she was a baby and snores softly. My ridiculous child, dressed in 5 layers tonight at her instigation and who looks not unlike the Michelin Man.
But instead I will post pictures of my Elfling, with whom my relationship is often strained by expectation and frustration and the desire to be a good parent while also being a good parent. I don't always understand her, and sometimes I am guilty of not taking the time to explore her fragile ethereal world before stomping in and getting cranky about the mess on the floor. She is clever and sweet and loves her friends to a fault. She is also anxious and a little shy, and maintains a self deprecating fear of her inabilities that makes me want to punch her Prep teacher. She is luminous and wild, tangles and briars and yet still the perfect rose tinted cream complexioned baby that lay in my arms some years ago.