Danger Zone

I am exhausted.

We spent the Easter holiday at my mother-in-law’s house. She insists on hosting dinner at her house for every major and minor holiday, which is a fabulous arrangement. I don’t have to cook and I don’t have to worry about in-laws wearing out their welcome.

The only problem with this arrangement is that her house is the epitome of a nightmare for any parent of a small child. “Babyproof” is evidently not a word that is part of her vocabulary.

I spent about 5 hours yesterday that looked a little something like this:

Mommy: “No, you can’t throw that glass candle holder on the floor, even if it is on the coffee table, which is directly at your eye level.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, stop playing with that sharp knife that is on the tray of cheese and crackers. Just because it is on the coffee table, which is directly at your eye level, that does not mean that you are allowed to touch it.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, stop playing with that bottle of ibuprofen that is on the lower shelf of the end table. It is not a rattle.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, I know you love furniture walking, but you cannot grab the table cloth on the end table. There is a tiffany-style table lamp and a bazillion picture frames up there that will bonk you on the head.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, stop playing in the fireplace. I know that it is an interesting place to display candles and flower arrangements, but none of those items are toys.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, please stop unshelving the VHS tapes. I realize that no one has a VCR anymore, but you never know when Free Willy on videotape will be worth lots of money on Antiques Roadshow.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, please stop playing in the basket on the floor next to Grandma’s chair that is full of prescription medications, hand lotion, and knitting needles. That big ball of yarn looks like fun, but it is attached to a knitting project in progress.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, please stop trying to drink from the 347 Pepsi cans lying around on every flat surface in this room. I know everyone else is doing it, but Bubble Juice is not for you.”

Baby: “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Mommy: “Baby, where is your father?”

And this was only the living room. This house has a dining room, kitchen, bathroom, and three bedrooms, too.

I am so tired.