Tag Archives: toddlers

Stairs, Violet’s Evil Temptress

On a trip with Violet a couple of months ago, I almost lost my mind for reasons I wasn’t quite expecting. I knew she wouldn’t sleep well. I knew it would be hard to feed her without a high chair. What I didn’t know was that I would spend every second of the entire trip chasing the baby away from stairs.
What is it about stairs that makes them so alluring to babies? I know climbing up them occasionally can be fun, but why non-stop? Why would you want to go up something you can’t come back down without cracking your head open? Why? At every house we visited on this road trip, Violet would make a beeline for the stairs the second we set her down. She didn’t want toys or books or attention. She wanted stairs. We couldn’t sit in peace for a second. In fact, after a while we found it easier if one of us just made camp at the bottom of the stairs. Since it was my husband’s parents’ house, I let him do the duty.
He spent a lot of time like that. That man is comfortable no matter how uncomfortable the situation. He could sleep on jagged rocks. It’s not fair.

As the trip went on, even the big girls took part in Stair Watch 2013.
Violet doesn’t like it when people get in her way, even when it’s for her own safety.

Even at a children’s fun room at a museum, Violet was only interested in one thing.
She spent an hour going up and down those stairs. And we spent that whole hour making sure she didn’t fall down those stairs. It was torture.

Even when we were visiting the rental house my parents were updating for new tenants, Violet was after stairs.
Basement stairs AND regular stairs.

By the end of the trip, all I could dream about was a world where baby gates existed. I guess this trip showed that every house in America needs to be equipped with baby gates just so people with toddlers can travel peacefully.

And no, I can’t just travel with baby gates. A) They would take up too much space in our already cramped car and B) not all hallways and staircases are standard sized so even if I brought the gates with me they might not fit. It took us several tries to find baby gates that would work in our home.

So, basically you are screwed if you are traveling with a toddler and there’s no barrier between the living room and the staircase. I even tried to block the hallway to the staircase with boxes, but she managed to climb over them or move them out of the way. Nothing can stop Violet from getting to staircases! Nothing! (Except baby gates.)

I hate you forever stairs!


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The Raisin Crisis

This week a catastrophe has occurred. Rose discovered that her fingers get pruney when they are wet. She finds this extremely upsetting, to the point where she ends up crying every time she gets them wet and checking them throughout the day to make sure they AREN’T pruney. Since she often eats with her hands, she gets pruney fingers more often than you’d think.

Since my kids have never eaten prunes, I’ve always called pruney fingers raisin fingers. So Rose keeps looking at her fingers and crying “Raisin fingers! No raisins! Raisin fingers! RAISINS!!!!!!!!!!”

World-ending raisin fingers.

Lily, my husband and I ALL tell Rose it will be ok and the raisins go away when her hands get dry, but this serves as little comfort to her. She cries about it until the “raisins” go away. During this particular session, she went on for a good half an hour. My comforting her did no good. And she didn’t want to get out of the tub or be held, so I wasn’t being THAT horrible of a mother taking pictures of it.

Raisins followed her out of the bathtub.

What makes me a questionable mother is internally giggling the entire time she is traumatized about it. I comfort her, but damn is it hilarious to me. Oh no! Raisin fingers! The world will end… until the raisins disappear 10 minutes later.

Oh for those golden days before she discovered her raisin fingers. Are all baths going to end in tears now?

When the raisins finally go away, she examines her fingers some more and says “Raisins? No raisins. All better.” Then she asks to see my hands, examines them and says “Wrinkles”.


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