April Fool's Day

Is this not the second cutest thing you've ever seen?

Hi Milla.

It's Mom.

I have a little story to tell you, and then a quick update on how unbelievably cool you are, aged almost 11 months.

First, the story.

On 1 April 2010, Mom and Dad had a party. In those days we still lived in the dank, dark cave called Riverlodge, with the jacuzzi we seldom used. So, we invited our mates, bought copious bottles of wine, flung some rubber ducks into the water, dumped a couple of blankies on the lawn and had a jol.

We drank, we jacuzzied, we ate pizza (I think) and then Auntie Katie and I missioned off to buy something from the garage on Conrad Drive. Must have been ice. Anyway, as we were driving back up the driveway towards the house, I mentioned to Katie (in my more-than-slightly intoxicated state) that I was considering not renewing my prescription for the Pill.

This was as much a shock to me as it was to Katie, because Dad and I had been married three years and were laissez-faire about our plans to have a baby. In fact, if I'm being honest, the only thing I knew for sure was how utterly terrifying I found the idea of parenthood. 

But - the decision was made, out there, by the large fern. 

That night, after multiple hours of clean-up, I (soppily) discussed it with your Dad. He was keen, and we were on. We expected it to take 6-12 months to get pregnant (but were convinced I was already pregnant by the next morning anyway) and, in a fairly hands-off sort of way bought a pack of ovulation sticks and got on with it. We didn't tell anyone, tho'.

Dad went away on business (briefly landing himself in a sticky situation; more on that when you're a lot older) and I got on with whatever people-without-kids do when they have free time and are on diet. I can't remember. Anyway, one night I dined with Auntie Sophie and, over sashimi and Coke Zero, told her I felt 'funny'. 

'Get a pregnancy test,' she suggested. 'What for?' I asked. But, on the way home, I got two.

And guess what? The very next morning I woke your Dad at 7am - even though he'd only returned from Cape Town five hours before - and told him I was about to take a preggie test. 

I took one and then, disbelievingly, another. I was pregnant. Well, pregnant enough for two over-the-counter tests to say so, but not pregnant enough for Dad or me... So we went off for a 10am doctor's appointment and a blood test. And by 1pm, Bruce had called with the news.

Remember: this was the end of July 2010. (The World Cup had just ended. Dad and I had spent a few freezing weeks in Sedgies, at The Shack.) We'd started trying on 1 April 2010. And you'll never believe what happened exactly one year later, to the very day... 

I went into labour with you. And you were born on 2 April 2011, at 8.45am. Kan jy dit glo? Exactly 12 months after dumping the Pill, I had you.

What a lucky, lucky, lucky mommy I am.

Now, the update:

It's 23 February. You're five weeks away from your 1st birthday and doing amazing things:

1. Walking! Four steps and fall-down, but so cute.
2. Saying 'there' (pronounced 'deh').
3. Knowing who Milla is - and thumping your chest when you say 'deh'.
4. Looking up at the light when we ask where it is.
5. Looking for Reacher when we ask where he is.
6. Patting your tummy if I say 'scrub, scrub' to you while we're in the bath.
7. Clapping when Hilary shows you her clip [Ed: What's a vowel between friends?].
8. Using Dad's MOOBA Animal app on his iPad.
9. Giving big open-mouthed kisses / trying to eat me.
10. Getting adorable golden ringlets all over your head. Where did you come from?

You're delicious. I adore you.

Love Mom x