Do all of you remember when your first baby started walking? Well, maybe not walking per se, more like stumbling madly around like Gary Busey on the tail end of a long bender, barking with glee and pawing at people. Sound familiar? Yeah, I had forgotten about that phase. My oldest, at a ripe old two and a half, has long since figured out how to hop down steps and avoid grabbing pots off the stove. He's mastered the no-no spots of the house and is really good at those quick saves before his big melon goes crashing into sharp corners. Most of the time.
So for the past few months I've been thinking, "Okay, sweet, now I can actually hold a mug of hot coffee and drink it. For more than four seconds at a time. Before it turns into arctic sludge." I even got to SIT with it a few times. And oh, what a PERFECT time for the parenting gods to rub their hands together and snicker. How silly of me to relax my neurotic-tension-reflex-o-meter, or whatever the hell is responsible for that mad dash towards disaster we all do to avert the certain ER-visit (despite how fun it is to sit in a waiting room with an injured toddler for two hours).
Yes, I am back in the trenches, people. My little guy has risen from the floor of the pack-and-play to stand boldly among the rest of the playground lunatics, and is officially walking. Very fast. I feel that horror-movie soundtrack creeping up: ".....just when you thought it was safe to sit on your rump and feign interest in dinosaur puzzles.......out of the shadows comes The Wobbly Slasher, wielding a rancid diaper and sharp flailing nails that haven't been cut for weeks because it takes three people to hold him down!!!!!! MWAHAHAHA........." (Cue agressive baby in ridiculous outfit chosen for parental comic relief, as shown above).
I've figured out that this whole process is frightening not only for the obvious crack open head/blood on carpet/huge steam-cleaning bill scenarios (and those stains are a doozy, my friends), but for reasons I thought were unique to my house alone. You know when you encounter something new and weird as a parent but don't mention it to your friends for fear that their children behave wonderfully all the time and yours are just freaks? Even though everyone has the same thought process? So I just never mentioned the fact that I spend most of my days getting harassed and pummeled by a couple of very small people who brush with fruit-flavored toothpaste and still poop in their pants. No kidding. I mean, they don't do it on purpose, unless this is their underhanded reprimand for denying them ice cream for breakfast. It's like breaking up a dog fight - you get involved and you're gonna get bitten one way or another. Or maybe I'm thinking of that time at bar. Could've been either...those girls were unsightly.
But truly, the whole process of mobility is maddening for all the hits that EVERYONE takes. Yes, naturally, the baby will look like a Gremlin what with the halo of green bumps around his noggin. He's gonna fall. Duh. There are miles of baby-proofing crap in Babies R' Us-spensive aimed at salvaging their little bodies and sense of security.....but once you move past that whole nursing section there's not much in the way of mom-proofing. As it stands, I would love to see some sort of hair guard to lock in the clumps I seem to be missing as they were used to break the little one's fall. Maybe a super-durable cardigan with metal shields for when that pasty white underarm waddle is used to brace said fall, instead of hair. It would be terrific to find an eye guard, maybe, or a chin plate to stave off that upward head-launch during a tantrum. Also, if someone could create some cute leg guards that extend all the way to the waist, we could avoid that lovely mix of rug-burned knees and patchy multi-colored bruises that look like a friggin' Phish tee when you spend all day low to the ground in case they toddle near the stairs and you have to lunge and catch. Not that I am bitter.
These days, the little guy seems to be slowly balancing a little more. Funny how quickly you forget what's involved, and mine are only, eh, a year and a half apart. I will slap myself later for saying this, but actually, it's kind of a load off to at least not have to carry the little chunky tornado everywhere. And really, it's quite charming and fulfilling, as a parent, to see the learning process at work in your sweet little ones, and know that you're doing your job well. But you can bet your $&*# that pack-and-play will be set up until those two are in middle school. Or at least until I get those leg guards.
