Guess how I spent my weekend? Putting up baby gates. Maryn is almost 8-months old, and she is definitely not content with anything that requires any sort of patience or sitting still (she is her mother's daughter!). And, as a third time mom, I am getting just a bit wiser. Pryor and Will hurled themselves down my stairs like Slinky's on a mission before I put up gates in our old house. Each time that happened, the boys were fine and Jim thought that he would have to admit me for hysteria. Thought I would try to avoid that and not push my luck with #3.
And I was excited! There is something inherently wonderful about following directions. Step one leads to step two, and if everything is followed correctly...wah-lah! You have the satisfaction of a job well-done, and something fantastic to show for it. My OCD-ness goes into overdrive when I am in the midst of a project and all is right with the world. I set out to Babies R Us with a "hi-ho" song in my heart.
Two days and three trips to Babies R Us later (one for the original gate, one for a "prettier" version that didn't look like it was keeping out mental patients, and one for a replacement when the pretty version was missing it's instructions and extenders) I was tired, grouchy and just plain fed up with the whole process. I spent 3 hours on Sunday staring at tension rods and extender pieces that did not match the instructions. I was on the brink of a complete breakdown when I realized that pretty gate #2 was missing a tension rod and I was going to have to go to Babies R Us for a fourth time.
After swearing like a drunken sailor and tossing a few random gate pieces down the stairs for effect (drama always makes me feel better), my loving, smart husband--who knows better than to interrupt me when I am in "project zen mode" said one of the best things I had heard all day, "You know those extra pieces that you told me to put back in the other gate before you took it back? Well...I forgot and after you left I threw them in the trash." Sanity saved by negligence!
After graciously digging the extra pieces out of the trash, my husband thoughtfully brought me a well-deserved adult beverage. And after another hour of swearing and belittling inanimate objects (good thing it was a nice day and the boys were outside or I'd have some explaining to do...) the gates were installed. And I have my sense of accomplishment. And my husband is happy he got to watch the football game and not have to go anywhere near an instruction booklet, which he would have promptly thrown away after opening the box. And my sons were spared watching their mother morph into Mommy Hyde. And my daughter doesn't have to become another human Slinky. Life is good.
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