As Christmas closes in on us again and another year is about to be relegated to the history books, I can't help but reflect on the huge changes that have taken place in the last 12 months of my life.

Last Christmas it snowed and we traipsed out to the public phone boxes at midnight on Christmas Eve to ring our families from a ski resort near the French-Swiss border. We exchanged gifts with our friends in the morning. We returned to London on a bus a couple of days later. We flew to Edinburgh for New Years Eve and listened to the young backpackers in the room next to ours, shagging loudly. I went back to my awful job in the Square Mile the following week. On my birthday we went to a retro bowling alley in Bloomsbury and sang karaoke and drank wine. H went to Ireland for an interview. I went to Iceland with my best friend and sat by the fire in the hotel drinking vodka that we'd bought at a bus station in Reykjavik, and we discussed the year ahead and what it might have in store for us and what we hoped to achieve.


Now I have a baby and a house and a life in my old hometown, the sun is blistering, Christmas will be spent with my family, New Years at the beach with H's family. The square mile is now a small part of my own history book, and the only plan I have for the following year is just to survive it.

That, and to unpack all my stuff and cull it down to the nice streamlined little existence I started off with in London almost six years ago.

Yes, we bought a house. We pick up the keys tomorrow. For the first time since I left home as a teenager, I won't be sharing common walls with strangers.

Funny thing is, the house that I was so devastated to have missed out on in September reappeared on the For Sale lists, after the purchaser failed to seal the deal in time. We looked through it again. It didn't seem so shiny three months down the track, the trampoline and swings were gone, the bathroom was downright grotty, and I couldn't picture myself baking in the kitchen anymore. Then two days later we went to look through a smaller house on a smaller block in a neighbouring (and better) suburb. It was $150k cheaper. We put an offer in without a second look (something we vowed we'd never do). It's ours. We move in two weeks. I don't imagine I'll be baking much in this one either, but I'm ecstatic that we have a place to call home at long last.


Baby A has started smiling at us. She is beautiful. Her skin is clear, her lashes are long, her hair is soft, and her eyes are bright and curious and trusting. She has her whole life ahead of her, and I have the most important job I've ever had - helping her settle into the world and find her place in it. Making sure she knows she is loved. Ensuring she has all the resources available to her to make her young life as wonderful as it can be and should be. Protecting her. Nourishing her. Teaching her. Guiding her. Forcing her to attend ballet lessons and violin lessons and French lessons every single week til she's old enough to properly resist.

I am of course joking about that last bit. If she wants to take Mandarin instead, I won't kick up too much of a fuss.

Merry Christmas to all readers of parentslate, thanks for reading, and best wishes for a beautiful new year.