Baby Proofing Hurdles

Who needs television when you have a kid? Watching Katie Mae's progression from backward crawl, to wormlike undulation in a general forward direction, to four-legged speed of light escape maneuvers is far more entertaining than the latest drama from the presidential election. As we watch our daughter grow stronger and faster, baby-proofing our house has been in the forefront of our minds. Somehow, the parenting magazines make this "babyproofing" step seem like such a one step process. Devote a leisurly Saturday morning to inserting safety plugs in your electrical outlets, put a baby gate in front of stairs and you're done!

Hardly! Babyproofing is like laundry. It never ends! There is always some new hazard to be avoided. I never realized how DANGEROUS my home was. The living room alone, with the rock fireplace, coffee table corners, and rug fringe, is a virtual landmine! Not to mention our own careless habits to reform. No more jewelry, pens, or hair ties left lying about to be inadvertently swept into the floor and promptly inserted into her mouth. My poor husband, he of the Y chromosone who is genetically incapable of putting things away where they go, struggles even more than I do. As a musician, for years Mark has operated under the managed chaos theory of guitar picks. Translation: If I leave them laying around everywhere, I'll always have one nearby when struck by divine inspiration. Perhaps an artistically sound theory, but not one in line with safety precautions for infants.

And then, no matter how vigilant I am, it's always the things that you never even worry about, until they happen. For instance, the other day I looked over to find Katie Mae happily chomping down on a rawhide bone that Sally Rose (the canine member of our family) had been chewing five seconds earlier. Just yesterday, I glanced over to find her holding and licking my gray satin flats (the ones Mark calls my elf shoes) like a raspberry flavored popcicle. The same flats that had traversed the halls of a public high school (the most germ filled building known to mankind) all day.

I guess babyproofing a home is an extended metaphor for parenting in general. Making our home safe is something tangible that we can physically do to hopefully keep Katie Mae out of harms way. The dangers inside the confines of our tiny box of indoors, we can (theoretically)control. The real threat is outside those walls. Out in the big, wide, world where Mommy and Daddy aren't there to snatch her away from the rock wall, or guide her in the direction away from sharp-corners. Even to advise her that maybe it's not the best idea to share saliva germs with a dog (who is probably much cleaner than the awkward teenage boys she'll be sharing saliva germs with soon enough). The world is a scary place. I know that one day, far sooner than I would like, I will have to send Katie Mae out into that world. I suppose the best I can do is try my best to instill in her the wisdom and discretion to keep herself out of harm's way.