Early last week my little Connor started crawling. He is so cute motoring around the room with this huge grin on his face. As for me, my exhaustion level has skyrocketed while my productivity level has plummeted. The garden project I was working on out back which has been sitting in a half-completed state for two weeks has ground to a halt. The house is getting grungier by the minute, dishes are stacking up in the sink and the Spanish book that I have been translating, Beverly Cleary's Ramona La Chince, is sitting on my bedside table with Ramona looking accusingly at me from the front cover wondering why I haven't picked her up in over a week. Um...Hello!? I have a crawling baby now, you are just going to have to wait Ramona.
As for Mr. Connor, I was so excited for him to get mobile since he had been so obviously frustrated. The excitement diminished quickly when it felt like every time I turned around he was wrapped in an electrical cord, or was sucking on a Barbie slipper or palming a lego. I didn't remember the girls ever being this hard when they started crawling. Then it dawned on me. Last time I had a crawling baby the entire house was childproofed because my oldest, Talia, was not even three yet. We still had a houseful of "suitable for children under three years of age" toys. There were no tiny art supplies; no glitter, no pom poms or stickers or bits of hardened play dough. There were no Barbie slippers or tiny lego pieces. There certainly weren't any Polly Pockets or barrettes or hair ties (neither of my girls had hair until they were almost 2 1/2). No. The house was the perfect space for my little Piper to crawl and Talia to play.
But NOW whenever I put Connor down on the floor he manages to find something the girls have dropped and I spend every day, all day, in a state of near panic. I even took him outside one afternoon and let him sit in the grass thinking I could relax if we got out of the house. No such luck. The kid found a leaf, ate the leaf, choked on the leaf and vomited all over Mommy purging the leaf. So much for that idea.
The fuse on my patience has been getting shorter and shorter with every little McDonald's toy or Tinkerbell action figure I find strewn about the house in what I now assume to be an attempt to take out their younger brother. I would almost feel sorry for the girls if it weren't so stressful for me. Half their toys have disappeared at this point and the other half have been threatened if they are seen even once outside the room they share. I will be so glad when this phase is over and we are on to the next one.
So....Thanks so much for letting me take this time to vent, and just know, because my main job right now is to keep my baby Connor alive and protect him from the invasion of micro toys that apparently took over our house at some point, there may be a gap here and there in my posts. But, never fear, I am not going anywhere.
I am looking forward to July when I am planning on examining motherhood and income production in other cultures. We will see how the ways in which a larger culture can make it easier or harder to combine child raising and income production....assuming I am not too busy prying a small plastic toy out of my son's mouth.