Midnight Drain to Georgia

Babies are hard on houses as well as the contents within.  Our poor couch has seen more action than the commode at Taco Bell.  We were discussing it the other day – after this next kid comes and reaches a certain more couch-respectful age, we will probably haul it into the back yard and burn it.  And I mean use accelerants.  The whole 9 yards.  It will deserve a quick and noble death after what it’s been through.  Will is seriously contemplating putting it in the driveway for an afternoon so that the UV light can naturally disinfect it.  I think it’s too late for that.  While the couch is no longer threatened by streams of baby puke or runny poo, it is now subjected to toddler-style pillow forts/nests.  Those cushions no longer have any structure whatsoever.

About a month ago, we opened the kitchen up for Stella.  She loved it at first.  She would run back and forth across the tile, shaking her little butt for an hour at a time.  I’d also find her laying on the ceramic tile, as that was undoubtedly the coolest part of the house.  This was cute, but having her in the kitchen has seriously made cooking and other kitchen-based activities downright hazardous.  For starters, when I’m trying to cook or prepare food, she will wiggle and squeeze herself between my body and the counter.  I’m not sure if this is “helping” or what.  It’s as if she just does not want me working in the kitchen.  My cooking isn’t that bad!!  This does get obnoxious, particularly if my hands are wet and I’m trying to cut fruit or veg with a sharp knife, have raw egg or meat juice on my hands, or am manipulating anything in a hot pot or pan. 

The dishwasher is another hazard.  If you’re loading/unloading, she loves to randomly pull stuff out.  This is gross if it’s dirty stuff and nerve-wracking if it’s sharp or breakable.  Even worse is when she attempts to climb on the door.  To her it’s merely a step stool.  I see the $900 price tag for that dishwasher.  At least we’re not like our friends; their little boy has learned to open theirs, and likes to load things in when they’re not looking – toys, books, etc…

Will is also getting some fun effects of toddler wear and tear on our house.  Recently, I noticed that her bathwater was not draining.  It would take over an hour for all the water to disappear.  After a few weeks of nagging (he procrastinates plumbing issues, as they almost always turn into a nightmare for him) he took a look.  He went in to do battle, proactively lamenting that we may need a plumber, since the last episode in her bathroom took him 3 days to fix and resulted in some water damage to our flooring and a geyser of water and debris blasting out of a chimney vent in our roof.  Ultimately, he fished something out of the drain (Seriously.  What else would it have been?), bringing me a slimy old baby washrag.  At least it wasn’t the ping pong boll we were afraid it might have been.

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About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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