She was Lassie in a former life

As I posted earlier, Rowan has got the stair-climbing bug. I planned to buy a new gate the other night, but due to the fact that my brain was completely fried, I forgot to get one when I went to Walmart after supper (teething=Mommy with no brain cells functioning at 9 pm). We had friends over for supper yesterday, so I spent the day cleaning and preparing the various things for tacos with rice and beans during Rowan's naps, and didn't find time to get to the store. Today, with a clean house and a fridge full of leftovers, I knew I had to get one, and while I was at it, needed to scan in some old photos for a gift for my in-laws that my SIL is working on and refill some prescriptions, so decided we'd head to Target once we were both up and clean.

Rowan took a nice long nap from noon-2:20, during which I had a shower, my own lunch, and even dried my hair and put on some makeup. (Woot!) She woke up, and I fed her some lunch (she loves meatballs, potatoes and peas, just like her Norski Momma!) and gave her a bath. After dressing her, I ran upstairs to look for my thumb drive for the photos, carefully placing the gate at the bottom, and making sure the tension was as tight as I could get it. While digging through various little baskets and boxes of small crap you don't throw but really probably don't need (buttons, collar points, chapsticks, etc.), I heard Rowan let out a cry.

"You're fine, Rowan," I called, knowing she couldn't have done herself much harm.

She cried a little more, then it got quiet. I kept digging through the baskets, loading change into a Zippie to take to the Coinstar, and wondering why we saved all this junk (but not throwing it either.)

Then I heard a sharp BARK!

A sick feeling of dread came over me.

I ran to the upstairs gate, and there was Rowan, climbing over the tension gate, which had fallen on her, determinedly headed for the stairs.

Lucy got an extra cookie with peanut butter on it, and lots of kisses and praise.

And when I got home with the new gate, Rowan had to be put in baby jail in order for me to set it up, because she made a beeline for those stairs every time she was set down.

We'll just call her our little lemming*.



(*Yes, I know it's a Disney Hoax, but just go with me on this one. This kid has either got a death wish, or Danger is her middle name. And it's not. It's Amelia.)

Speedbaby

I had a few things to do. Toothpaste to put in the linen closet, a pair of socks to stick in a drawer, something else--nothing important, all quick. I didn't think it was a big deal to leave the gate down at the bottom of the stairs. Rowan was playing with her toys, Lucy was snoozing next to the couch.

Two minutes, that's all it took--two minutes.

I guess this is proof that my daughter really loves me and wants to be with me all of the time.

In those two minutes, my 11 1/2 month old daughter climbed 10 stairs.

She didn't fall, thank God (and with some serious help from her guardian angels, I'm sure). But I'll be buying one of those more permanent type gates with a door for the bottom of the stairs, too. And pronto. Yikes.

I am terrified of the toilet.

It's time. She's mobile. Upwardly, downwardly, backwardly and forwardly. Kind of wonkily, actually. Hello Adverbs! I love you today!

She's sort of crawling, with one knee and one foot, and making quick progress into whatever she shouldn't be into. She pulls herself up on the furniture, and cruises along, as quick as a wink. She's even tried pulling herself up on Lucy, who doesn't like it very much.

I have learned:

• toys aren't fun unless they can inflict serious bodily harm. Or kill you.
  
• electrical cords are delicious, like spaghetti! Especially the sparky ones.
• little bits of unidentified crud are meant to be eaten. A dog who gets 3-5 walks a day brings in a lot of unidentified crud. (Mom now vacuums daily.)
  
• the bottoms of shoes are tasty and should be licked frequently! Especially outside ones.
  
• Buttons are meant to be pushed, dials are meant to be turned, and all music should be played at level 11.
• Doggie water dishes are baby pools. With added spit!
• Things in drawers or baskets should be out of them and thrown on the floor. Ditto for stuff on shelves.
  
• If you think she won't get into it, she'll get into it faster. Especially when you aren't looking or have your pants around your ankles or have a pot boiling over.
• Dogs don't like to be pulled up on by a 20 pound baby. They don't like vacuums either.

So, we've begun to babyproof. Candles are mostly gone, save the 'necessary' bathroom one for the stinky moments. Sit-around-cute-decor-crap is put away. Baskets of magazines have been recycled and closeted. Plugs are plugged, cords are tucked behind the couches, and stuff is pushed back to an unreachable area on each end table. Plexiglass has been ordered to cover the stereo/cable TV/ computer equipment and cords, and any tippy furniture has been screwed to the wall. She is a climber--she already started with her dresser drawers. At 10 months! And people wonder why we call her the evil monkey.

And the next paycheck plans include a mounted gate for the top of the stairs, toilet locks, drawer locks, cabinet locks and any other assorted baby safety crap that becomes an absolute necessity when I'm standing in the store.

They'll be able to smell a sucker like me a mile away.