This house needed baby gates. Lot’s of baby gates.
So I thought it was going to be a great weekend when I saw two beautiful, extra-tall, walk-thru black metal gates on Craigslist. They were a fraction of the price of what they’d cost new and I was especially grateful to be done with stepping over the white plastic gates that we had at every doorway.
My husband picked them up on his way home from work and we installed them the next day. During our peaceful Saturday morning.
Muffin loved her new baby gates too…
See? Here’s our baby girl, all fun and games….” Mom, Dad, thanks for this awesome gate! I just love it!” (I really need a faster camera.)
But that only lasted a few minutes because the inevitable and yet unthinkable happened when the gate between the den and kitchen went… “click”…and locked Muffin on the wrong side of mommy.
(You’ve got to understand, this little pot belly baby is clingy right now, very clingy.)
And the gate was no longer a toy.
Wait for it. Wait for IT…
All kind of crazy breaks loose on our Saturday morning…
(If you could hear what you’re about to see, you’d believe me.)
We’re pretty accommodating, being first time parents and all, so we try work with whatever Muffin throws our way. We spoil. We cater. We dote. We accommodate.
We think maybe our baby girl just wants to be on the other side of the gate, so we help her out.
No dice. GO fish.
She doesn’t want to be on the other side of the gate. Not really. Not at all.
But we’ve seen this before. Throw yourself down. Pout. Sputter a few cries. And get back up again.
And then the face of utter defiance, a face I’ve never seen before on my baby love, sealed the deal.
Our baby gates would take some getting used too…
I only got one blurry picture (I know, all of my pictures are spectacularly professional) of the utter outrage of a baby gate that was actually baby proof because the whole thing caught me by surprise (but trust me, that’s outrage and anger…not despair). It left my camera phone flung on the counter and me on the floor rocking and soothing my baby while Daddy scurried for a pacifier.
She’s got us trained.
And it was accompanied by the most ferocious scream she’s ever yet managed. (Please tell me there’s a way I can still use these baby gates but never have to witness this again?)
We spent the next fifteen minutes asking each other, “WHAT. in. the. WORLD?!”
(It was the un-highlight of our otherwise uneventful morning.)
Seriously, who knew a baby gate could bring on such drama. And I say “drama” because that’s what we call something big and overblown that passes quickly…and leaves you trusting your memory as to whether it really did happen…
Here’s the very next picture on my camera roll…
We’re still reeling with, “Wow, what was that all about?!” But wondering if we shouldn’t be contemplating instead . . . “What are we in for in the future?”
But that’s not something I want to know the answer to anytime soon.
I’m just back on Craigslist looking for more of these baby gates because they’re so pretty.
And wondering…does that make me a terrible mother?