Why do people constantly say, ‘Oh, you don’t want her to be walking! It’s all over from there.” What exactly is over? My constant housework to keep hazardous waste off the floor?
Or, “you don’t want her to start walking, she’ll get into everything!” Oh really? Because she seems to be pretty much into everything as it is, and on all fours most of “everything” that’s in her line of sight is on the ground and gross.
Or, “you’ll never be able to catch her once she starts walking!” Um. Well, she walks around now like a 90 year old drunkard but she crawls like a banshee out of hell. So, you know, I think I can keep up.
I never understood all the naysayers. I was ecstatic when Noah started walking, but so many people were like, oh, you don’t know what you’re getting in to. People (as in mothers who wanted to tell me how wrong I was) would actually argue with me that I couldn’t be happy about this new stage. “Just wait,” they said.
Well I’ve got plenty of time to wait now because I’m not busting my ass waxing the hardwood every night! Am I the only person on the planet who has a dirty floor and doesn’t want her child rolling around on it all the time?
Yeah, so there. I admit it. My floor is disgusting.
I have cats who try to bring mouse trophies inside. I have a husband who wears his work boots in the house. I have a dog who expresses her anger at me in poo. I have kids who like mud. Lola throws her food on the floor to save for later. My kids jump on me while I’m cracking eggs or downing wine and that shit goes flying. Gross!
Lola still puts everything in her mouth, but the stuff now is off tables and sofas which potentially is A) not encrusted with dirt and dust B) not rotting C) not from an animal’s behind, and D) not an insect.
Hmmm. A plate of organic strawberries with local lavender honey and grass fed yogurt aioli? Meh.
Oh look over there! A decomposing stink bug in the corner! Just what I was in the mood for! crunch crunch bug legs drooling down chin
I would be worshipped by parents across the globe if I could make food on her plate look as appetizing as feculence off the floor.
Thankfully, Lola’s sticky hands and well-worn knees are no longer dust mops for cat hair and other dreck. I don’t have to scoop dog food out of her mouth quite so much. I will not be spending Mat’s paycheck on replacing all the leggings she’s in which she’s worn holes in the knees. We can go outside and she can walk instead of launching herself out of my arms unto her death.
We can actually play on the playground! We can stomp around in the snow! She can start learning karate moves to use against that bully Noah!
It’s not all over.
It’s just beginning. Lola, let’s DO this.