This munch is my heart and soul and she’s going to be six months old in two days. The fact that she’s getting bigger by the day has never been more obvious to me than it is right now. I got incredibly sad when I put away clothes she can no longer fit into, or when I folded her swaddle blankets to store them. I remember how small and sweet she looked wrapped up and sleeping, and when I pick up one of her newborn onesies, it’s almost hard for me to believe she was ever so small. All of these bittersweet things are offset though by the joy of seeing her laugh, of having her smile at me, of her playing and interacting with us. When she sees me and lifts her arms so I can pick her up or takes a bite of cereal off her spoon, it hits me that she’s half a year old and time is passing so quickly and I’m powerless to stop it. All those popular cliches—“live in the moment,” “don’t take anything for granted,” “time flies when you’re having fun”—have never had more concrete meaning to me than they do when I look at Isobel now. Part of me wants to live in this moment forever. But another part of me thinks about her future and I really can’t wait for that either.