Baby Kneival

Paxton is becoming more and more curious now that he's mobile. For a while, he was content to stick to the rug in the living room. Now, he crawls to whatever catches his eye. He particularly enjoys the dog food bowls. Luckily, every time he's reached them, they've already been empty, but I'm aware that the day he has his first bite of dog food is not far off.

He did finally slam his fingers in the drawers. We put some Safety First magnetic locks on them, so he can't open them any longer and he's frustrated beyond comprehension. Rather than beating a dead horse by continuing to try to open them, he's moved on to opening and closing the bathroom door, opening his dresser cabinet, and getting into his trash can. Babyproofing could be big business. We had to rig a gate to fit our spiral staircase. Chris did an amazing job getting it to work, but, at the advice of a baby book, I had him put it two steps up, so Paxton could learn to get up and down the stairs without getting high enough to hurt himself too badly. The problem with that is since it's a spiral staircase, the angle at which it opens two steps up is one that doesn't allow for much space for a person of substance to squeeze through. Try fitting a woman with a baby through that gate. It's a task, let me tell you.

I also made a BIG mommy mistake last weekend. It was in the midst of the stressful in-law visiting weekend. I took him to his bedroom to change him and laid him on the changing table, which is something I haven't done in months and months. I turned my back for one second to straighten a picture frame that had fallen and I heard THUD!!! I turned around to see Paxton laying flat on his back on the floor next to the changing table. He was silent for a minute and then let loose with a blood-curdling scream. He was okay after a minute of cuddles and nursing. It took me a little longer. I was sobbing.

Oh, since I'm confessing my mothering sins, here's one more: I was in his room, hanging up his clean laundry while he played with his toys on the floor. I was going in and out to get other clothes and when I went out one time, he started to cry a little. I hollered that I would be right back and then rushed back in to reassure him. Turns out that he had crawled to the door and was sitting right behind it. I smacked him with the door in my hurry to get back to him. He sprawled onto his stomach, bawling. I couldn't get in to comfort him, because his little body was blocking my entrance. I finally pushed the door gently, thus making his body slide enough to let me through. Oh, the heartache. I felt like the worse mother in the world. I should release him into the wild. Surely wolves would do a better job than me.

I love my little boy SO much. It defies words. I hate that I ever hurt him, even accidentally. I've been so comforted by my friends who are moms who have been good enough to share their own experiences. I'm able to laugh at theirs and they can laugh at mine, but I'm starting to see that getting him past these dangerous toddler years intact is going to be more of a chore than I ever imagined. He's a dare devil and I'm a bit out-of-shape. That's not a great combination. But we'll both do our best to make it through with minimal scarring.