Sometimes--there's God--so quickly

I just finished mopping the entryway to our apartment. It was long overdue. There was some kind of sticky substance on the tiles that actually resulted in one of them being pulled up when it stuck to Molly's shoe the other week--makes me think they aren't very well adhered to begin with--and various scuffs and spots. I didn't do a perfect job, but I put some muscle into it, and got up most of the stains. After I finished I grabbed a few paper towels from the kitchen to dry it off, which I generally do in high-traffic areas, and as I was climbing back over the baby gate into the living room I see my adorable little nine-month-old determinedly crawling onto the tiles.

Well, he kind of followed me while I dried them, and I made sure he didn't attempt to lick the floor, so I'll assume we're okay. But as he moved around--on a surface that, mind you, he NEVER EVER GOES FOR, with an expression that said very clearly "Hey, Mommy has just exerted a lot of effort on this area of the house, so I should investigate"--he drooled all over my clean floor.

Then he laughed at the front door for no reason, and went off to attack the vacuum cleaner.

A year ago, I was facing the end of a job I no longer loved. My stress level was through the roof, and I was in a lot of pain from my pregnancy. My husband was looking at unemployment and we didn't know where we'd be at the end of the summer. We lucked out when things happened the way they did, and even if I'm not happy up here, we needed it. He needed the job, and I needed the opportunity to spend time with Calvin. The last nine months have been ridiculous. I don't know when he went from being this tiny, peaceful blob of a newborn to being the little terror he is today. Calvin six months ago couldn't have sat up on his own, let alone ripped the duct tape off of the drawers that I had hoped would keep them shut. Babies are scary.

I wonder sometimes if I should post more photos on here. I wonder if I should put clothes on my baby when he goes marauding around the house. I wonder if there's more I could be doing for his messed-up skin. I have all these little fears and worries, but I'll tell you this much: I'm happier in this role than I think I've ever been in my life. I do miss sleeping in on weekends, but when I walk into Calvin's room at 6:45AM on a Saturday and he's sitting up and banging on the crib bars and he smiles at me with his FOUR TEETH! and I think...yes, I'm exhausted, and yes, it's totally worth it.