My House is a Deathtrap for Children


My son rolled across the room today. It was amazing, it was beautiful, and it was terrifying.

I have never been a particularly neat or clean person. There. I said it. If there’s a choice between cleaning or doing basically any activity that isn’t cleaning, painting my toes, or my chihuahua’s toes, will win out.

So when my son rolled across the room of his nursery I clapped and cheered him on while he fist pumped and cooed, clearly incredibly pleased with himself and the attention. Then I looked around. Our carpet is covered in dog fur. And dust. And who knows that else. The carpet came with the house, and just because I’m dwelling on the thought right now I will likely be up late tonight imagining the layers of other peoples’ living that cover the carpet.

I did something drastic. I picked up the entire floor of both of our carpeted rooms. And then I vacuumed. Well, first I put my chihuahua in her crate, since she was biting the vacuum and nearly became a casualty of my sudden cleaning frenzy. While vacuuming (which was shockingly satisfying) I found not one, but two screws on the carpeted floor.

TWO SCREWS! One was an inch long. Within reaching distance from where my son had fist pumped seconds before. Where did those screws come from? How many of their brothers and sisters are lying in wait, hoping to be picked up and swallowed by my sweet, slobbering, teething, rolling six month old?

You need a license to fish, but not to have a baby. Because seriously, if you needed to pass a bunch of tests and prove you can provide a clean home, my application would have been denied.

At his six month appointment yesterday the pediatrician told us that now is the time to get really paranoid about baby proofing the house. My first thought was, “Hmm… probably time to potty train the dog.” My second thought was, “Does this mean I need to do the dishes?” (Please read this with the most amount of whininess you can muster.)

Also, was it really necessary to tell me to become paranoid about anything? I think this pediatrician is getting kick backs from my shrink.

In any case, it was an incredible day, full of milestones for my son.

And if you need me I’ll be scrubbing the floor. Or maybe just painting my chihuahua’s toes.


17 responses to “My House is a Deathtrap for Children

  1. Good way of telling, and nice article to take facts about my
    presentation topic, which i am going to present in university.


  2. Pingback: You Can’t Have It All | Teacher. Reader. Mom.

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  4. What a great post. My wife and I laugh at our parenting all the time. I’m comforted by the fact that one time my dad dispensed a gallon of gas on my head. I turned out ok!


    • It sounds like there is an incredible lead up to your gallon of gasoline story. 🙂 Yes, it is reassuring to know that we are not the first parents to totally screw up. A member of my extended family fell out of the car while it was moving. She’s in her 60s now, totally fine. We’re sturdier than we look. Thanks for the comment!


  5. Pingback: Worry & Fret: Parenting | Teacher. Reader. Mom.

  6. I love, love, love this post! I have at least one of those moments a week where I think to myself that I am not fit to be a mother and how could the doctors, nurses, security personnel have let me leave the hospital with my son as I am clearly not prepared for this job. Thanks for making me feel less alone in my imperfection!


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