The perfection of being imperfect

Ben is on the move. Not quite crawling but definitely army crawling and he is speedy about it. He is determined to get to whatever item is in a room that I have determined is the least desirable for him to get to, and he does so as quickly as possible.

This has resulted in several near misses as we adjust to the fact that we can no longer walk out of the room for a few seconds or just leave him on the floor. In fact, last night I went to fill up his humidifier for about 45 seconds, which apparently means that Ben can now get across his entire room to his bookshelf. Walking into the room and not immediately seeing him was an out-of-body experience and made me realize we have really dropped the ball on child proofing.

We didn’t childproof before he was born because we knew we were moving shortly after he was born and when we moved we figured the hazards of not having the counter top attached to the island was a greater priority to fix than getting cabinet locks installed and then well….life happened.

Now that means we will have to spend Ben’s college savings on things like drawer locks and gates and table corner covers because we haven’t gotten our act together. It was when I walked into his room last night that I realized Mike and I are truly making this up as we go along. We ask a lot of questions, of everyone. We ask our parents, our siblings who have raised our beautiful niece and wonderful nephews, our awesome nanny, our aunts, friends, everyone.

In the end though, we are coming up with solutions in the moment, and quite frankly getting it wrong sometimes and discovering fun facts like you should NOT play horsey with a baby immediately after they eat and should definitely go up a diaper size before they need it.

But the other thing we are discovering? Our child is pretty darn happy and still basically in one piece. He scratches the heck out of the back of his head because I somehow gave birth to baby Wolverine and his nails grow like crazy and his reflux makes me so sad when he spits up. Whenever he accidentally whacks his hand or head or foot and looks sad for a moment I re-dedicate myself to my baby bubble wrap onesie idea.

As he starts to move and explore the world around him I love that he feels safe to do so, despite our many parental fails. He is starting to adventure out a bit on his own, army crawl a few feet away from us, but he always turns back to see that we are still there.

In the morning when I put him in his high chair and he is happily to looking out the window at the birds and snow on the ground and gnawing on a measuring cup (a new favorite in our house), I will call his name and he will turn and look at me, throw his head back and grin his big toothless grin and let me know that despite our completely imperfect parenting, we might be doing ok.

Grinning Ben Xmas Tree

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