I recently wrote a post at The Bad Moms Club about how I’m flirting with the idea of not babyproofing this third time around. I just can’t trust my older kids to keep the chokables away and the baby gates closed, I don’t think.
Then again, I don’t remember making a big babyproofing effort with my other two kids either. How exactly did they get from infancy to childhood in one piece anyway? How did we survive moving into a house mid-reno with a four year old and a 18 month old?!
The answer came to me this morning while I was making coffee. That’s right, before I even had a coffee. I pulled the coffee maker forward to fill it with water and add the coffee grinds. Then I pushed it right back into it’s spot at the back corner of the counter. Obviously. Except then I remember the countless times Ed or some other well-meaning, coffee-making person has just left it there, brewing hot coffee at the front of the counter.
I then remembered my sister-in-law putting on the kettle using the front burner of the stove. My babysitter couldn’t find the knives because she didn’t think to look up high, on the wall-mounted shelf above the stove and next to the microwave. Anytime we had company at our old, second floor apartment, I was constantly shutting the door at the top of the stairs. I’ll step into the backyard and immediately spot the lighter that was left on the steps or the saw on the back porch. The list goes on.
Ordinary people without small children walk around oblivious of all the potential dangers inherent in everyday objects. Seriously, people, stop giving one year olds balloons to play with! I’m this close to a heart attack over that one. They will put them in their mouth. And do you not see the baby beelining it to that plastic shopping bag? What is your problem?!
And then it dawned on me. I don’t have to babyproof my house because I’ve already babyproofed MY BRAIN. I can automatically scan our surroundings and pick out all and any hazards and take the appropriate measures. It’s my secret mutant power. Sadly, it only seems to work for my own kids. I’ll always have the knowledge, of course, but my instant, danger radar is somehow linked to my own children and disappears as soon as they’re on to the next stage.
Is this a common thing? A sort of mother’s instinct? Or am I really a super hero? Colum will be so psyched if I’m a hero!