Seven

They say seven is a lucky number. And I can confirm I pretty much feel like the luckiest woman in town, wishing my little boy a happy Seven-month birthday. Hard to believe he's been in our lives for more than half a year and that this half-year-and-a-bit has unleashed more love (for the Bug, for my fiance, my family and for life in general) than I ever thought possible.

Tomorrow, Bug will attend his first settling-in day at the nursery at the top of our road and on Monday, I'll be heading back to work two days a week. I haven't accomplished even a fraction of the things on my mat-leave to-do list -- pitching articles, knocking out a novel outline, getting back into my skinny jeans or learning guitar -- But as I've watched my boy grow from a helpless, awe-inspiring little human to a hilarious, squirmy, smiling boy, my heart has grown at least seven sizes -- as has my ambition to be a woman and mother my son can be proud of and trust to take care of him. 

Happy Birthday, Bug.