Hernando's Hideaway

I just went to grab a pen from my desk and realized that I’ve had to hide all the “adult” writing implements in the study. Right now, within arm’s reach of my computer, the only writing implements available are a naked washable blue crayon (my son likes to peel the paper off), four slightly dried-out Color Wonder markers (the kind that only write on special paper), two Color Wonder Crayons with the tips smushed down to the nub, and (if these even count) a set of Color Wonder paints and a paintbrush. There used to be a green Sharpie in the drawer, but I had to hide it when my son got into it and scribbled on his own knuckles like gang tattoos. There was a pen in the same drawer before he used it to decorate his wooden toy truck. There was a Ziploc bag of non-washable crayons at some point before he made a mural on the wall with them (thank heavens for Magic Eraser). Even the mechanical pencil with the retractable lead had to be tucked away before someone put an eye out by accident.

There are a lot of things that parents need to hide away when their little ones become big enough (and curious enough) to explore. Not only writing implements, but scissors, glue, tape, staples, and white-out all vanish from the office drawers. The kitchen gets a complete makeover as things like the knife block, ceramic mugs, flower vases, even salt and pepper shakers drift from easily accessible countertops to higher shelves and closed cabinets.

The bathroom is the craziest spot in the house to make child-proof. Even aside from safety issues such as tucking medications and razors far from where little hands can reach, things like shampoo and soap and hand cream and toothpaste need to be tucked away from curious hands which can spread them all over the room. And how about treasure troves like bandaids (and let’s admit it, maxipads) that can be opened and stuck all over the room?

I won’t say much about the bedroom other than that the contents of certain drawers need to be relocated or at least shifted to the bottom of the stack.

Having small children in the house has caused me to hide away many common items in secret storage places. This can be a problem for a sleep-deprived mom who can hardly remember where to find stuff even when it’s where it’s supposed to be. So if you get a birthday card from me in the mail and it’s addressed in crayon, please forgive me. I know there’s a pen in the house somewhere, but by the time I find it the card will be late. Although it’s probably going to be late anyway, seeing that I can’t find the stamps, either.

Close Ev'ry Door To Me

Much to Ryan’s consternation, the fact that he is both mobile and FAST means that we have to limit his freedom a lot more than we used to. To wit: closing doors. When he’s playing downstairs, I have to close the sliding glass doors because otherwise he’ll fall out of them and down the steps. I have to close the laundry room door because there are dangerous things like bug spray and tools on the lower shelves. I have to close the study door because Daddy’s office chair is an irresistible temptation whether Daddy is sitting in it or not. I have to close the bathroom door because of the siren call of the toilet (with the lid closed, it’s a great drum; open, it’s a splash pool). Upstairs, I have to close the door to whatever room he’s in because the landing is small enough that he’d be falling down the stairs headfirst before I even noticed he was headed out the door. I even closed the pocket door in the dining room so he couldn’t pull himself up on the sideboard and knock down the wineglasses.

And today, for the first time, I even added a new “door” in the form of a baby gate in the kitchen hallway. There are several problems with the gate, however. The main problem being that Ryan is not only stronger than I am, but given his short stature he can put his entire body weight behind dislodging the gate. So I can wedge the gate against the wall firmly enough that I can’t move it, but after a few determined pushes Ryan can get it to tilt enough that I have to go rescue him before he gets himself into trouble. And the other problem is that I’m not quite tall enough to step over the gate, so I need to sneak out through the pocket door in the dining room if I need to leave the room for a moment. But it’s probably a good thing it’s not any shorter, or Ryan would be able to lean over it just enough to fall on his head.

Just to add to his frustration, even above and beyond room doors, he’s banned from opening cabinet and closet doors. And there are so many fascinating things lurking behind those doors! Pots and pans that could be banged and clanged, boxes and bottles of all shapes and sizes and colors, clothes that can be tossed across the room, shoes with laces to be untied and knotted and chewed on. And all of them tantalizingly out of reach!

I can understand why most babies cry all the time. It must be immensely frustrating to be so close to exploring new things but not quite being able to get at them. To be able to peep through the baby gate at the world beyond but not be able to reach it. To see the outside world through the sliding glass doors but not be able to go and explore it. To know there are wonderful and exciting things lurking behind closed doors but not being able to see them. I’d probably cry all the time myself if I were always being frustrated that way!

Someday soon – probably too soon, in my eyes – he’ll be ready to open all those doors and explore the wide world on his own. But for now, I’ll be closing those doors.

One Small Step for Baby, One Giant Leap for Babyproofing

I never realized until I had a baby of my own what exactly is entailed in babyproofing. There are actually two components to it. The first, and the one that most people think of when they hear the expression, is all those gadgets: outlet protectors, cabinet locks, baby gates, childproof doorknobs, etc. It’s all the physical stuff you have to install to keep the baby from getting into dangerous places. But the second, and the aspect that changes most over time, is behavioral changes. Not the baby’s behavior; the parents’.

When Ryan was a small infant and hadn’t even learned to roll over yet, I could safely put him down on the floor of the nursery to go answer the phone, or get a fresh pack of diapers, or get an outfit from the dresser, with no doubt that he would be exactly where I left him when I got back. The only danger there was the possibility of him being attacked by a dust rhino. Once he learned to roll over, I could still leave him for a moment to get the phone, I just needed to throw a blanket over the lamp cord and put my coffee cup on the side table instead of the floor before I left. He might try to eat a dust rhino, but that was the only worry. When he learned to crawl, I had to block the front of the crib so he couldn’t crawl underneath it (in pursuit of a dust rhino, of course) and get stuck, throw a blanket over the glider ottoman so he couldn’t get his fingers stuck in the mechanism, and unplug and move the hairdryer out of his reach. And now that he’s pulling himself up on things, if the phone rings, I have no choice but to grab him and bring him with me to get it, because by the time I got back he’d have pulled over the lamp, knocked the radio off the side table, and gotten his fingers stuck in the spring of the crib.

So even though our level of physical babyproofing hasn’t changed, my behavior certainly has. Gone are the days when I could sit on the couch with a cup of coffee and a sewing project, flipping through the TV channels. Back when Ryan was only crawling, I could leave a drink in the cupholder of the easy chair, I could toss the remote on the couch, and I could leave a pair of scissors on a side table without any fear of Ryan getting at them. But his perspective and therefore his level of interest changed from three inches off the ground to three FEET off the ground when he learned to pull himself up and stand up. So anything on the couch is fair game.

It adds a certain level of complication to anything I do with him in the room. This morning he was happily playing with a toy on the floor, so I decided to sit on the couch where I could keep an eye on him and stick labels onto some CDs I’d burned. Well, no sooner had I settled in with my pile of labels, my pile of CDs, my pile of envelopes, and my “CD Stomper”, but Mr. Curious had to come over and see what I was doing. And naturally, all my “toys” were much more interesting than his toys. I managed to maneuver myself so my legs were against the side of his playpen, blocking his access to the side of the couch with all my stuff on it, but he was determined and practically clawed his way up into my lap in order to get at it. I finally had to give up, put my things away, and wait until his naptime to finish my project.

So the term “babyproofing” is much more of an ongoing process than the one-time event I had imagined it to be. I’m also wondering if anyone has invented a cupholder that you can stick to a wall about 5 feet up off the floor. Yeah, five feet ought to buy me another couple of months…

The Paradox of the Mobile Baby

As Ryan is getting the hang of crawling and as he learns to pull himself up on things and stand up on his own, I am looking forward with both delight and trepidation to his “mobile months”.

I am delighted that with his mobility comes a much greater ability to amuse himself. Now that he can get to toys that he wants and doesn’t get himself stuck sitting on his own feet, he can happily entertain himself for hours without needing me hovering over him to get him playthings or rescue him from himself. He’ll sit in front of his ball tower and contentedly roll ball after ball down the ramp, or sit in front of the TV cabinet tugging determinedly at the knobs (which Daddy has tied together so the doors won’t open) trying to get inside, or fwap at his big inflatable ball and giggle at the vibrations. He’ll spin the wheels of his truck for a while, then crawl over to his beads and chew on them for a bit, then scoot over to one of his beloved spitrags and lie on the floor chewing on that and kicking his feet up in the air. Or he’ll kneel in front of the playpen wall and laboriously pull himself up with both hands, then let go with one hand and swing back and forth like a gate until he falls on his backside – then he’ll start the process all over again.

But the trepidation part comes when I realize that despite the fact that he no longer needs me to keep him entertained all the time, he does need me to protect him from himself now! When he’s in the Pack & Play or the playpen, the worst he can do to himself is pinch his finger with a toy or fall over and kosh his noggin. But in the living room, or the nursery, or the yard, I can’t take my eyes off him for a second or he’ll be unplugging a lamp, strangling himself with an extension cord, knocking over a chair, or a hundred other unimaginable accidents. Even with the best babyproofing in the world, a big, strong, curious baby like Ryan will find trouble to get into anywhere. We can put outlet protectors on every socket and wind power cords onto little plastic reels, but Ryan is strong enough to knock over nearly any piece of furniture in the house and take those power cords with it. He’s fascinated by anything electronic with lights and buttons so the computer CPUs, the air conditioners, an unattended digital camera or phone or remote control, all such toys are subject to search and seizure by the little man. And any door or cabinet or secret cupboard must and WILL be opened and explored.

And such curiosity is to be encouraged – as long as it can be done safely. Which is why I will have to keep careful watch on him every waking moment. He may not need me as a playmate right now, but he certainly needs me as a security guard!

Back the Truck Up

For the past few weeks, Ryan has been working very hard at getting more mobile when he’s on his tummy. He’s gotten very good at reaching for things, although he gets frustrated when a toy is just out of reach, and he hasn’t quite figured out how to scoot himself forward to reach it. But just last night he discovered a new trick: reverse!!

Yup, he’s mastered the skill of pushing himself backwards. He finally figured out that he needs to lift his big chubby belly off the ground and tuck his knees under a bit, but apparently either his arms are stronger than his legs or those poor clothed knees just don’t get enough traction, because he ends up pushing himself further away from his toys instead of closer. Which, understandably, provides even more frustration.

It’s a shame, because after just a few hours of practice he’s already got some pretty impressive speed going. He can scoot himself a few feet backwards in just a few seconds. I have no doubt that as soon as he figures out how to reverse the process, he’ll be off like a rocket, scooting all over the place. I think I’d better start baby-proofing his room right away, because with all that strength and a little more coordination, he’ll be into everything within a day or so.

I’m excited about this new step, and I can’t wait to watch him explore the world a bit more on his own. He already loves when I carry him around to look at different things, and I wonder what he’ll choose to check out when he’s able to choose for himself. Will he spend all his time chasing those toys that eluded him when he was less mobile? Will he want to explore the hidden places like the closet and under the dresser? Or will he be drawn, like a moth to a flame, to examine everything dangerous, like the electrical outlets and door hinges and all those other things that give mothers the heebie-jeebies.

But for now, I think I’ll just enjoy watching him back the truck up.