Just when we thought we'd closed the chapter on the Gate Depression, I got stuck. Literally, I got stuck upstairs. Just me and Jasper, home alone at 6:30 in the morning with the magical one-handed gate stuck shut. Seth was off at the gym, probably being invigorated to the likes of adrenaline, sweat and Radiohead. I was invigorated, too, all right. Even sweating. But the only thing I heard were the expletives coming from my own mouth. Thank goodness Jasper found the cord of an unplugged fan to keep him preoccupied.
After 20 minutes, a near mommy meltdown and a few thoughts of how exactly I could climb over, holding Jasper, and stick the landing on the next step, I managed to pull the damn thing open. So naturally when Seth arrived home moments later I breathlessly explained how traumatic my morning had been. He seemed neither thankful for our safe return to the main floor of the house or mildly interested in fixing said piece of crap gate.
This battle was mine, and mine alone. After all, I'm the idiot who insisted on the gates, right? I knew better than to push this topic. I felt thankful I'd been able to convince him to install them in the first place. So, to take out my frustration, I fired off a nasty letter to Safety 1st, the manufacturer of the gate. I had every intention of posting the entire piece of prose right here on this blog. It would make you all howl with laughter, I thought. I made jabs about how maybe next time, for giggles, Safety 1st should test the gates on real moms who were holding babies and baskets of laundry. I mentioned that I would tell all of my mommy friends how terrible the gate was -- isn't a bad product review like the worst thing ever for a company like that?
But then I took a closer look at the gate. No doubt, the Safety 1st Smartlight Stair Gate is by far not the best invention in the modern baby-safety-retail-scheme. I am convinced the reason there was a man with a baby pictured on the box is because the one-handed operation only works if you've got a bear paw for a hand. But our gate, I believe, is maybe, just possibly, not exactly installed 100 percent correctly. So I bagged the letter-writing campaign and called my cousin Nathan who is a farmer and handyman. After explaining how Seth might divorce me if I asked him to re-install the gate for a third time, he happily agreed to come over and remedy the situation. (Mother, that was a joke. I do not really think Seth would divorce me over the gate. It would take something much more dramatic, like, say, throwing out his iPhone with a bag of dirty diapers.)
Other than the safety hazard of my second floor (I refuse to shut the gate again until it's fixed), things are going well here on the home front. Jasper is standing on his own, and I think real steps are not too far off. We're nearly weaned (HOO-RAY), and he got the thumbs up from the doc about his sluggish weight gain. Football season has begun, so I am now the newsman's widow, at least for the next few months. I may be the only one in town who gets pissed when the local college teams win. Their good fortune could drag the season out longer or even get them to a bowl game, which would land in the middle of the holidays.
Next up, I'm working on a list of Rookie Mom Mistakes. Like the one last night: Laughed at Jasper when he threw a chickpea during dinner. Laughter prompted repeat action. Sigh. When will I learn?
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