When you’re a mother, and your child is awake and minimally mobile, quiet in the house equals doom.
Before your child is mobile, quiet means peace. Contentment, even. Your baby is sitting on a blanket somewhere happily chewing on a puff, and you can do all sorts of things that don’t require having your eyeballs glued to your baby at all times.
But when your baby becomes mobile, quiet always spells disaster. Am I over generalizing? Is it only like this in my house?
Don’t misunderstand–she still does all that. It’s just that she’s now added some new tricks to her repertoire that have me wishing that a mess was the worst I’d have to contend with in a day.
Someone tell me that I will look back on this one day and laugh. Because right now, my mind automatically skips to broken noses and blood on the floor.
Also included in MB’s bag of tricks this week: climbing on all fours on top of the dining room table to empty the salt shaker. Coloring on the walls of the den. Dumping Ingle’s full water bowl on the floor [which she at least acknowledged with an uh-oooh]. Saying YEAH! But meaning NOOOOOO. Attempting to steal crackers from a defenseless 12 month old. Really, the list could go on and on.
This too shall pass, though. I just don’t know if that makes me feel better? Or worse.