The first 6, 8, 10 months with the kid haven’t been too taxing despite my cluelessness. Mac has a generally pleasant demeanor and I’ve been able to essentially indulge his every need and desire because they were predictable. . .and because I could control or at least influence what some of those needs and desires were.
As he approaches his first birthday, he’s starting to switch up his game. Saturday, he pulled himself to a standing position. He’s also starting to wheel himself around on a little ride along toy his Great Grandma got him for Christmas. He watches. Watches. Watches. I can practically see the connections being made in his head. I feel the electricity of his synapses firing.
I feel mine moving sluggishly.
The kid is doing it better, faster, and longer.
My mind and body are struggling to keep up.
This morning I was puttering around the kitchen. Mac was crawling around “helping” me. I think we all know his agenda wasn’t to actually help. He was on a reconnaissance mission. He was collecting valuable information about how to thwart an under-the sink baby-proof latch, open a container of dog kibble, figure out the dishwasher, and coffee maker. Real Baby McGuyver Shit.
When I reached into a lower cabinet to get some coffee, he immediately wedged himself in the cabinet. He was holding the door open with one arm to make sure I didn’t pull a sneaky slam shut manuever. (While sweetly cooing, “Please help Mom, close the cabinet door now).
This particular cabinet has pull out drawers, which seemed to please him greatly. The only thing on the bottom drawer was a basket full of K-Cups. I use regular coffee grounds in a special basket for my daily coffee (better for the environment and the wallet) but I keep some hot chocolate and different flavored K-Cups in the basket for special stuff. By special stuff, I mean the once a year holiday trip to 34th Street, Sundays + Bailey’s, and the one off-iced coffee.
While I unloaded the dishwasher, I watched him ever-so-adorably (gag) move the K-Cups in and out of the basket. He pulled the drawer open and closed. He picked up individual K-Cups and shook them near his ear. He smiled. I smiled. We squealed in delight.
All that coffee caught up with me. So I snuck to the loo very quickly.
When I returned, I noticed something brownish-red on his ankle and lower leg. My heart jumped into my throat. How could I have been so stupid? The ceramic commuter mugs were on the upper pull-out shelf. What if he reached one, broke it and cut himself?! Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Then he turned towards me. He had the same colored line above his lip. And he was grinning from ear to ear. He looked like a little baby John Waters. (ok, maybe a little more like Hitler – the line was a kinda’ thick!)
I started laughing my ample ass off in relief.
He chomped into the foil of one of the hot chocolate K-Cups and had some of the powder on his lip and leg.
Whoosh, I felt all the air go out of my lungs in a relieved gasp. Thank goodness he wasn’t bleeding!
Clearly my judgment needs baby-proofing. I know the results could be much more disastrous next time. . .How do you baby proof a perpetually clueless mother?