Today my baby is 17. I said to Daz, I guess we should stop treating her like she's 13, she's almost an adult. The years have flown by.
So what was going on 17 years ago that I remember. Well I was enormous because I'd put on 25 kilos, and I spent amost every day in a pair of green bib and brace overalls. I had a four year old and a two year old and we drove around in a 1964 Valiant station wagon that broke down so often the NRMA man showed me how to fix it myself. Lloyd wet his pants at playgroup, I left Kimba there, drove home to get him some clean ones, the car broke down and I sat down on the step and cried. Thats when I knew I was having going to have a baby that day.
Sure enough at 3am I woke up Daz and said lets go to the hospital. Then we stood on the front verandah and had a fight about what car we were going in. I refused to get in the Valiant. He wanted to go in the Valiant because his mother actually drove to the hospital to have him in that very same Valiant. Cheryl came out and said – for gods sake kids, just get in a car and go to hospital. We didn't go in the Valiant.
I don't have any photos of Lizzie now. She refuses to have her photo taken.
So here she is when she was little and sweet.
And here she is when she used to let me dress her up and take photos of her. God knows what the neighbours thought if they were looking over the fence.
And here's a sneaky one I got recently. Now she's sort of sweet and sour.
And here we have Jem and myself celebrating last night. I think we thought it was our birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIZZIE.