Things of late…
- Biff boom crash. Crash boom smash. Thud. These are sounds that are heard on an increasing basis at Chez Piggy. I’m thanking my lucky stars that these new sounds are not accompanied by six seconds of deafening silence (now isn’t that a fancy oxymoron ) followed by WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH at many many decibels. Because they could. But they aren’t. Again, Praise the LORD. ALMIGHTY.
- There is one less Tiffany dragonfly torchiere lamp gracing my living room, as of last night.
- Although there have been times when I have wished for nicer furnishings, I am quite thankful that the material goods in our home are nothing to write home about. It makes it much more tolerable when we have to part ways.
- The Tiffany was one of the nicest things I ha
ved. - It wasn’t a REAL Tiffany. But it was still nice.
- I have an identical one in another, more BooProof part of the room.
- Torchiere style lamps and one year olds do not mix.
- Even when you put safety latches, plugs, or covers on all the doors, drawers, outlets, and knobs, and keep a keen and watchful eye on your little one 99.999% of the time, he will do amazing things in that 0.001% snapshot of unbridled freedom.
- If you’re anything like me, your first thought after thanking God that the baby is unharmed, is to offload as much responsibility in the event as possible, as soon as possible; i.e., blame the husband.
- If you’re anything like me, you will notice yourself doing this, laugh, and ask your husband if he thinks it’s funny that your first instinct after ascertaining all is well with the baby is to offload as much responsibility in the event as possible, as soon as possible on someone else.
- If you’re married to someone like Mr. Gadget, he will laugh right back and say it’s a good thing it happened on your watch, not on his, because he was busy relaxing on the couch and watching tv, while you were busy cleaning up the kitchen (and supposedly watching the baby).
- If you’re anything like me, you’ll still make the comment that the lamp might not have fallen over had the big new box of diapers not been left on the cedar chest, because everyone knows that boxes are a baby’s best friend, especially if they’re conveniently set at just the right height for a busy little boy who is also very strong and who loves to push things off of surfaces because it’s so fun to see what happens when they fall.
- If you’re anything like us, you’ll still laugh, clean up the mess, put the broken lamp away, thinking that it might possibly be salvaged (and knowing that it will stay in the garage for a few years and then possibly end up in a yard sale for 50 cents), squeeze the baby and give him lots of hugs and kisses, blow raspberries on his belly until he giggles and squirms and laughs and giggles, and put him down in a safe place far from Tiffany lamps, and go on with life as usual. Which means staying up too late, watching too much tv, waking up at midnight and again at 4 a.m. to feed the nibbler who won’t eat enough at one time to hold him more than 4 hours, sleeping through the alarm clock, waking up feeling briefly happy that you might have actually had some decent rest until you realize that you slept through the alarm and you should have left for work an hour ago.
- If you’re anything like me, you’re undyingly thankful that you have the kind of job where they are very forgiving if you happen to wander in an hour later than you intended.