He's safe...

When you have children I know that it is very important to "childproof" your home. However, after doing so, Fuss still seems able to get into whatever it is he wants to and I cannot. I swear that I am going to break a cupboard door off before I remember that there is a safety latch in them. I get anxious to open the cupboards, for whatever reason, and so I pull and then get yanked back by the door stopper itself--it is like a game almost to see if I am strong enough to pull the cupboard open, and I assure you the cupboard is winning. It has also become nearly impossible for me to vacuum some rooms because I have inserts in all of the low outlets, and once those things go in they are never coming out! That leaves me only able to vacuum the kitchen (and yes I vacuum my tile--with the attachment of course, I don't love the broom), my bedroom (thanks to the connecting bathroom with high outlets), the hallway, and Fuss' room (thanks to the other bathroom with high outlets also). If my house is a mess it is because I can't get to the cleaners that are so neatly tucked away under the sink behind the cupboard door that I cannot open. My once beautifully decorated living room has had to be rearranged so that all "breakables" are in high enough places that Fuss can't reach them. In doing this I also discovered that everything I own could pretty much be considered a "breakable." Therefore, when safety-izing my house I created an unbalanced display of nick-knacks that I could not live with, and felt the need to rearrange, not for decor, but by how much I care about the breakable item. If it is an item that I like but could live without, it goes on the bottom of the shelves or the coffee table. If it is an item that I really do love, it goes on the top and out of reach from little hands. I love my son, so I live with the unbalanced and locked away chaos that has become my home. Such is the sacrifice of a mother...just don't judge me by my apparent lack of decorating (and dressing) fashionista...it is my children's fault.

The thing I have yet to discover is how to "childproof" my home from the older boys. If something is out of their reach, they climb on the counters to get it. If they can't get on the counters, they grab a chair or a stool to climb on to climb on the counters. When they pick up a plastic bat or sword and swing it, they are much more likely to hit and damage things that are raised in an attempt to protect them from Fuss (and vice versa). Not to even mention that small toys are a hazard to all of our children evidently (Moo vs. the marble). My walls are dinged (some of them are from D moving sheetrock to the basement, some from the kids...none from me...yeah right). There is splatter on my walls that I am really not sure where it came from, let alone what it is. There is a cute display of 2 jars in my kitchen that used to be 3 until 1 was dropped on the tile floor. Doors now have to be shut that I used to keep open, which has given D what he feels to be the privilege of leaving those rooms (our office/computer room) in a state of unacceptable and unfiled piles of papers, computer parts, and whatever else no one wants to put away...all because I "childproofed" my home. How can a woman live like this? In this never ending cycle of attempting to keep up appearances, safety, and sanity, I feel at times as though I may be failing. And during those times I am sure that somewhere there is a pill that I could take to make me feel better about it, but even if I had one in my house, I doubt I could get the cupboard opened to get it out.