Except it's Tuesday.

Hubby and I have been stressing out about what to do with the confined space that we label home. Baby proofing is going to be a must ASAP and that entails rearranging most of our livingroom and well, honestly, the whole damn house. We're not kid friendly! There, I said it. Everything in sight around here is choke-kill-bruise inducing. We've gone the majority of our time living together never having to think about how safe our household is for little ones - until now, that is. With little Mr. Curious Grabby around I feel like our house is riddled with landmines of danger.

Over the holidays my son mastered rolling from his back to his stomach, walking across the house while being supported under the arms, sitting up on his own, sprouting out little white bumps of soon-to-be teeth and saying both Dada and Mama. Breathe. I thought things were supposed to progress sloooowly? He's not even six months old yet. The last month has been hard. Milestones. Teething. Hardly a moment to myself before bedtime. And even if I haven't knitted a single thing in over a week, I've been having the time of my life watching my baby take infant steps towards becoming a man.

Now I just have to find a cereal that doesn't make my son sputter in disgust (he hates rice cereal) and he'll be eating cereal and real food soon. Although I have a love-bored relationship with breastfeeding, I am looking forward to sharing family meals in a more decent fashion and literally, wearing more fashionable bras.