But these two occasions got me thinking. Is there ever enough caution taken, enough cords pulled out of reach, baby gates put up, and doors locked? I feel like I have a pretty even stance on baby-proofing. I don't go overboard, I don't want my entire day filled with constant latch snapping and plastic handle squeezing. I do love a baby gate as I have stairs and a 9 year old bedroom door that can never stay closed, and my outlets are covered but I do little things like I don't buy toxic cleaners and I have all my pokey kitchen stuff put away and a drawer full of kitchen stuff that baby can play with, risk free.
So now what about the people I live with? How long do I lecture? Will I ever feel safe leaving the room for a minute? I have this constant feeling of emergency, that is the only way I can explain it. I mean, I know why Mom's become closet (or some, not so closet) alcoholics. This shit will drive you crazy! This feeling of, what I can also describe as like ADHD, or what that might feel like. I am mentally scrambling to do things, and I'm always on high alert. It's a sick, twisted thing I have, most Mom's do, the "Mom-dar". I will wake up in the middle of the night, and not 60 seconds later the baby will cry. When Quattro was little, we were moving into our apartment in San Diego and he was asleep on our bed because it was up and his crib was not- well we were in the livingroom, down the hall and I suddenly dropped the box or whatever I was holding and ran down the hall, only to put my hands out and catch this not 7 month old baby as he rolled off our bed. That was the first time anything like that had happened and it hasn't stopped since. This time, with Elvis is worse, I think because I know it's there but I know she's sick like the day before and I know when she is into something she shouldn't be, even if I'm in the other room.
This whole thing started because I was cooking dinner a couple weeks ago and Eddie had the baby and Quattro was out back. The door to the basement has been staying shut due to our lack of finding the right baby gate to fit. So I am cooking and I turn around and see the baby, back facing the top of the stairs with the door wide open. These are no steps either, they are steep as hell and curved, with a solid concrete floor at the bottom... I came unglued, I was out of my head pissed off, I couldn't believe it- it was the only time I ever thought I would leave Eddie, for real. If she would have fallen, I know I would never forgive him.
But she didn't, I, without so much as a sound as I didn't want to startle her and have her lean back, ran over and grabbed her by the foot and pulled her to safety. Eddie was crushed, I could tell he was going to beat himself up and I didn't tell him not to. Some things are unforgivable and I told him that was one of them.
The next day the baby gate was bought and installed. He's no Mom but he's a real good Dad.
It's probably a different scenario but.... Once P was able to scale the baby gate we put a huge fluffy dog bed at the bottom of our stairs. We have a concrete floored basement that the kids play in. He's used it... once. :-) It was the best safety precaution we ever took. It's still there too, even though he's pretty good at stairs.
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