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So I made the leap and signed up for web hosting so I could redesign and upgrade my blog. The new address is http://www.bebehblog.com or just http://bebehblog.com. No more WordPress extension! Please update your bookmarks and blogrolls accordingly. I won’t be posting anything new here on this page (I won’t be posting anything new until Monday on the other site either) so if you forget and come here you’ll be looking at this message forever. Maybe someday I’ll figure out how to redirect automatically. Don’t hold your breath.
Considering I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about websites I expect there will be a lot of issues, broken links, missing pictures and more issues. If you happen to see any problems, please email me bebehblog at gmail dot com so I can try to work them out. And by work them out I mean swear at my computer for three hours before calling tech support.
To hold you over until I get things worked out, please visit my Flikr page for new pictures of the baby. Thanks for your patience!
Contamination contained. We set up a perimeter. No babies will be escaping from this facility. Now our evil plans can begin mwahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!
Since rolling has quickly turned into scooting in circles and the occasional attempt to push up on his knees we decided it was time to get started on the baby-proofing. Of course, just like EVERYTHING ELSE about parenthood, you can only be prepared for half of it. The things you thought you absolutely had to have (ahem BUMBO SEAT) were totally unnecessary and you end up running through the street at 11:00 pm throwing money at anyone who promises to get you the stuff you neeeeeeeed.
The real victims of the baby proofing are our pets. The stupid evil cat can’t figure out how to get through the gate (hint: YOU JUST WALK THROUGH IT YOU’RE A CAT). The dog can no longer run to the front door and greet every single visitor we have OMG TRAGIC. And the stupid nice cat has already decided she’d prefer if I opened it FOR her so she sits and meows. Odds are we’re going to have at least one poop on the floor incident before we reach acceptance. Although since the gate is between the couch and the bathroom, I wouldn’t rule E out of that race. Kidding honey!
No, not Baby Evan’s anxiety. Mine. I almost lost my marbles the other day at the thought of leaving Evan in someone else’s care for twenty minutes. How could a stranger possibly nurture my precious snowflake in my absence? I mean, he could get hungry and start crying and his mommy won’t be there to hold him! I bet that’s the first thing everyone says in therapy: “My mother wasn’t there that one time I cried.” Besides, I don’t know these people. Maybe they secretly hate babies and would pinch him as soon as my back was turned. Are they qualified? What if they’re drug dealers? Or child molesters? I mean, that’s not usually who works in a church nursery but YOU NEVER KNOW.
I wasn’t expecting this to be a problem. I know in theory that the focus of attachment parenting is making you feel, well, attached to your child. One of the articles I read described it as feeling like part of you was missing when you weren’t with the baby. But c’mon, it’s not like I’m a super over protective mom type. I’m the opposite of overprotective and cautious. I’m the kind of person who says stuff like “God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt” without a hint of irony. So what’s my problem with letting someone else watch the baby shove inappropriate things in his mouth?
My problem is no one else HAS ever watched him. We don’t have any family nearby to “practice” babysitting to see how Baby Evan handles being in the care of someone other than his parents. When I was about 16, I babysat for the neighbor’s infant. Who cried. THE. WHOLE. TIME. I told them never to call me again and swore I’d never have children (yeah, I said a lot of things when I was 16). I don’t want to traumatize someone that way. But is it just going to get worse if I don’t? My fear is I’m going to be the mom at the first day of kindergarten who can’t walk out the door without prying her kid off her leg with a crowbar. Maybe I’ll just practice on my parents when they come to visit. They have to love me and Baby Evan anyway.