No Stopping Her Now

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When Zoey was just a baby, we cheered for her when she started to roll over from her back to her stomach and back again. It was a big accomplishment, something every baby goes through and Greg and I were just ecstatic that our baby was starting to move.

Dude.

If we had known how insane she would be when she learned to walk, probably we would have encouraged her to lay still and not start the whole process. Rolling over leads to crawling and crawling leads to walking and that’s when the REAL trouble began.

Every parent we know warned us–in their own way. They told us, “Wait until she starts walking. Mwahhahaha.” We thought they were just being friendly, just letting us in on their own anecdotes. We shrugged off their warnings because we knew Zoey was perfect and walking would only lead her to be even more perfect and our kid wouldn’t climb into the dishwasher–NO WAY. What we didn’t realize was that all of  those parents weren’t just warning us, they were silently pleading with us to save ourselves. It was too late for them, but our child was only learning to roll over and there was still a chance…But we didn’t heed what they were saying and within no time, Zoey was up and walking.

Dear Lord.

Now she’s EVERYWHERE. Try to sneak an Oreo while you’re making dinner; she’s right behind you insisting on having one herself. Try to go to the bathroom in peace; she’ll walk in and start babbling. Try to get something out of the refrigerator, she’s in front of you, grabbing the container of sliced cheese and walking nonchalantly towards the living room.

How about the fact that she climbs the couch and baby gate now? Or if she sees a set of stairs she MUST GO UP AND DOWN THEM OVER AND OVER AGAIN. OMG STAIRS! Or how about the fact that she hates having her diaper changed unless she’s standing up–and usually she’s running away from me as soon as I get her diaper off.

I recently found one of our candles in our cupboard of plastic dishes and one of her bath toys in the refrigerator. She put her Dora radio in the dishwasher and she routinely cleans out my purse on the kitchen floor. She helps with the laundry by throwing her socks away when she thinks I’m not looking (she prefers to be barefoot, apparently) and if you even mention the word ‘bath’, she’ll run to the tub and try to climb in with all of her clothes on.

She has decided she’s the Master of All Doors and they all MUST be shut no matter where we are.

She is constantly on the go. She’s unstoppable. And it all started when she learned to walk.

So here’s my advice for new parents, whose baby is just starting to roll over: Stock up on Ibuprophen for when you’re trying to pry those little fingers off of the baby gate for the fifteenth time in a row. Stay patient when your baby, who always seems three steps ahead of you, decides to go through your CD collection and leave all the cases in a pile on the floor. Never let your baby know where you keep the Oreos because they will wear a path in the floor walking over to that shelf and begging for one.

‘Wait until she starts walking’, just isn’t enough of a warning. ‘You will not sit down until she’s asleep for the night’ is more accurate. ‘She will find everything she isn’t supposed to get into and make a mess’ is even better.

In fact, right this minute, she’s begging her daddy for some juice and an Oreo because she just woke up for the day and that’s how she rolls. She’s sitting quietly on the couch right now, but it won’t be long before she’s out in the kitchen, trying to break into our silverware drawer.

Better take my headache medicine now.

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About cdhoose

I'm a mom to an amazing little girl and have another little one on the way. I live in Upstate New York with my fiance and daughter, 2 big, crazy dogs and a 3-legged cat (who has an attitude). I hate know-it-alls, Lindsay Lohan and socks with holes in them. I always seem to get myself into trouble (which entertains my fiance to no end), but I try hard to be a good parent. Also, I occasionally work on scrapbooking the fifty billion pictures I've taken of my kid. And I like ice cream. The end.

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