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Poor PB was so offended that not only did I dedicate a whole post to an outfit, but that people in return queried the origins of my dirty old cut-offs.

He squished up his face, looked me up and down and finally said: What's so good about those shorts?

Nothing really. But for those that asked they're just men's Levis 501s jeans that I've hacked myself.

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Conversations with PB:

Me: I'm thinking of doing more outfit posts on the blog.
PB: Uuuuueeerrrrgggghhhh. Girls are soooo weird. 

Inadvertently, I dress us in matching or complimentary colours almost every day.

PS. Happy belated Australia day. I'm not unpatriotic, just a little slow.

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Our first Australian summer with BB out-of-belly is quite different to last year's pregnant romp. To both our astonishment – and her father's dismay – we ended up with a very fair child. An old friend of ours met BB for the first time recently and said Shit Anna, You've Got Strong Genes! Sorry BB, no olive complexion like Daddy's for you.

Lucky I've got  Jill's top tips for a burn-free baby summer:

1. Only go to the beach very early or very late.
2. At other times, set up a bucket of water with colourful balls in backyard.

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Conversations with a 4 year-old in the park:

Elouise: Why doesn't she have any clothes on?!
PB: Because Daddy isn't very good at dressing her.

I found these pics on my iPhone of a recent adventure they had together. I wondered when I left the house what he would dress her in when she woke from a nap.

We're still all here, just a little inundated at the moment. I've been writing posts in my head often but haven't successfully transcribed them to the computer. Hopefully I'll be back soon. x

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I'm a bit late with my New Year resolutions post, but here it is in an arse-up kinda way.

Besides books of the more inspirational variety – mainly on natural birth – we haven't really taken to baby literature. But the other day PB brought home Parenting for Character from the library, a book about creating good habits for your children to empower them for adulthood. One of the things the author, Andrew Mullins says, is that raising a child is a heaven-sent chance to rebuild negative habits and face temperamental deficits.

I'm not reviewing it here – although it is a great book – but it did bring to light certain aspects of my own character I want to fix before I pass them down to BB. So in 2011 I'm aiming to correct or create one habit a month, starting with wiping out superfluous negative comments (also known as whining).

I'm not too bad, but I do make the occasional ridiculous remark. For example, walking past the croquet club recently I said to PB I love croquet! It's so crap that our yard is on such an angle we could never play at home. What?! Firstly, I should be grateful to even have a yard considering we live in a flat and secondly the purchase of a croquet set is not even in our foreseeable future therefor the state of said yard is irrelevant. What I could of said was I love croquet! Won't it be unreal when one day we can play it with our kids in the park? Or, I love croquet! Have you seen the movie Heathers? Or, I love croquet! Let's go find some pink flamingos for mallets!

(Or I could have just silently remembered the time I whooped his butt in a game in England and smirked to myself.)

So this month I'll be taking a little longer to reply to things – while my brain ticks over and finds the words to best address a situation.

PS. Credit where credit's due. Jill bought that notebook and I copied – even though over the phone when she was describing its radness I adamantly said I could never be swayed from being a moleskine snob. Apparently all it takes is flying people, triangles and mustard yellow.

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Today – while we play cubbies indoors because the yard is wet from rain – we think about all those affected so severely by this weather up north. It's been called A Tragedy of Epic Proportions and A Human Disaster, that is to get worse before it gets better.

We're thinking of you up in Queensland, and praying you're safe.

If you can spare a bit to help out, donate to the Flood Relief Appeal or Red Cross.

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On the weekend I went to the pictures for the first time in over 10 months. Just me, a bottle of water and Kit-Kat, speech ready for anyone that dare breathe a whisper during the film.

Selection was vital – considering the withheld debut back into the land of cinema – and thankfully did not disappoint.  Somewhere by Sofia Coppola: slow, frustrating, humorous, minimal and beautiful. It's the kind of film I could sit and watch all over again as soon is it finishes.

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Although BB was completely and surprisingly well behaved on the flight to Melbourne, for some reason we decided to join PB for a roadtrip on the way back. Many a time have a driven that route, but never has it taken me 16 hours. At least the time we spent out of the car was fun.

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We didn't take a lot of pictures while we were in Melbourne, just enjoyed the moment.

One thing we did do – for the FIRST time since BB's birth – was hang out together without the little mite while my folks watched her. A swim in the bay and a walk on the beach. I made PB choose his favourite beach house from every cluster we came accross. His rationale for selection was based on practicality. The one with the good roof that needed the least repair, for example. Why he didn't pick the rad orange one with the pink door is beyond me.

On the occasion off little BB joining us at the beach we returned home with a soaking wet baby – one that is apparently not worried about icy Melbourne water.

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Happy 10 months little BB. To mark this momentous occasion today she took enough steps to constitute a wobbly walk. But it's not all smiles. See?

All she got for Christmas was her two front teeth.* And two more on the way. Poor little soul.

Happy New Year everyone, hope it's been a rad 5 days so far. I'll be back with more photos soon. x


* If only that were true. Cheers Mum, with all our efforts to get nice wooden handmadey toys your singing plastic letterbox has triumphed.