September 3rd, 2002 - Wednesday

Please come in

Today I noticed just how much our apartment has changed since Hayley came along. Even if someone came in here while we were both out, it would be immediately obvious that there's a small child here (it's almost time to stop calling her a baby, isn't it?). It would also be noticeable that we don't have any one particular room that we spend all our time in, although some more than others.

Want to see? Well come on in. Welcome to our home.

There are baby things everywhere. If you walk into our living room, the coffee table isn't in the center of the room like it would normally be. It isn't even in front of the couch. It's pushed right up against the entertainment unit. It has two purposes in that way. One, it helps to block the unit off just a little bit (and I do mean "just a little" since she repeatedly cranes around enough to kiss the television and can touch the boxes for her videos on one shelf). Two, it creates a larger floor space for her to play and practice getting mobile.

Under the table you'll find a baby piano and a Winnie the Pooh box full of smaller toys. Next to the entertainment unit is a mirror for her to see herself (covered in drool spots since she likes to kiss herself) and a few other various toys - an old phone minus the cord, a pinball type of thing, and a bunch of stacking rings. Next to the leather couch is her walker and her activity table. Some homes have end tables, we have a toddler activity table. It still holds a cup of tea quite nicely when she's in bed.

The bookshelf was a prime target for her. She loved pulling many books off the second shelf. The first shelf is blocked by a guitar case and the third is still too high. That middle shelf was frequently stripped almost bare. I didn't mind so much, not even the monotony of continuously putting books back ad nauseum. I did mind the fact that she'd occasionally decide to bend and pull one of them. I'm all for sharing but I still care about my books and their welfare. The other day, I cleared that shelf and stacked the books in a corner of the bedroom. Now it holds some of her own books, including her beloved The Eye Book, and even more of her living room toys.

If you go into the kitchen, I swear it's not that I'm a bad housekeeper, but yes you'll often find either a pot lid, an aluminum foil loaf pan, a rubber spatula, or a spoon lying on the floor. Having cupboards that are somewhat difficult to childproof, I chose to instead put safe things near the front and she loves to pull some of the stuff out. She also has her own drawer with plastic utensils of all sorts inside. Of course, it's not unusual to find a doll lying in there too, or her ride around toy.

Walk through to the dining room and you'll see her high chair. On the table is a wicker basket full of bibs. I've been trying to pack up all empty pop bottles, but there's still a Seven-Up bottle on the floor that she loves to play with. Careful not to trip over the stroller on your way out.

If you go into the bathroom, you might initially mistake it for a child's bedroom. I cleared out almost everything under the sink. Now, aside from a few harmless items that are stored under there, you'll also find a tin with some small toys (plastic keys, plush cow, vinyl blocks), the lid to the tin which makes a wonderful banging sound, and three waterproof bath books. Also, watch out for the xylophone on the floor. I don't even know why it's in there, but I'm sure it seemed like a fine idea at the time.

If you pull back the shower curtain, you'll find baby shampoo, at least one teeny tiny washcloth hanging to drip dry over the tap, and a mesh bag full of rubber ducks and one red inflatable shark. She loves that shark. She covered him in kisses throughout her bath tonight.

The washing machine has a 75% chance of being full of her clothes, waiting to be washed.

No, I didn't forget to close the dryer door. If it's open, I probably needed to keep her happy while I peed or washed my hands, and she loves looking in the dryer. She's a strange one, yes.

Across the hall from the bathroom (whoops, mind your step, looks like she pulled out a bunch of our shoes from the shoe rack again!) is her own bedroom. Since she doesn't actually sleep in her room (other than a small handful of times), it's mostly a storage and play space. It's where I try to cram her multitude of clothes into far too little drawer and cupboard space. It's where you'll find her toddler rocking chair, her orange plastic deck chair, her zillions of stuffed animals, her legos, her trunk full of winter clothes and blankets, her toy box full of wonders, and her 101 Dalmatians area rug. In here we'll sit on the floor together and read books or build castles out of lego (only to be demolished by Super Baby) or play the best game ever, known as "I'll pull all my clothes out of the drawers and you put them back in!"

Back across the hall, next to the bathroom, is the computer/music room. That room was way too much of a nightmare to ever even contemplate childproofing. The best childproofing tactic for that room was to simply close the door when no one is in there; otherwise she's off like a shot for the forbidden world of CDs and wires the second you blink. Once she's old enough to turn the handle, the next childproofing tactic will be a simple hook lock up near the top of the door. Then I can lock George in, heehee. Uh, no I'm just kidding. Really.

Still, even though it's not a room she's really allowed to be in, if you look closely, you'll notice that there's a musical rocking horse toy. If I need George to watch her for a second and he's in there working, she'll play with the horse on the floor.

Of course, she's also been known to pound out an excellent tune on the keyboard if it's turned on.

Back across the hall, next door to her room is the main bedroom. Oh, could you close the linen closet on your way? Hayley must have opened it again to try to figure out how to pull the sleeping bags out.

The bedroom is another Hayley tornado. There's a changing pad on the bottom of the bed on top of the comforter for all her diaper changes. There's a basket with Vaseline, diaper rash cream, baby nail clippers, and other etceteras on top of the television. Clean diapers are stacked next to it. A diaper pail sits on the floor waiting to be emptied.

A laundry basket is filled with a variety of toys and teddy bears. It was meant to be used for, you know, laundry, but she kept playing with it, so I guess she claimed it as her own. There's often at least one clean piece of clothing lying helplessly on the floor after being plucked by her little fingers from a drawer. Her towel hangs on a dresser knob to dry. Her brush lies next to mine on my bureau. If you pull back the covers, you'll find a Baby Pooh (not a baby poo) and a receiving blanket that she lies on when she goes to sleep at night. A Boppy pillow, too small for nursing such a wiggly girl now, sits on the bed to be used for keeping her from rolling off in her sleep.

Under a chair is her own little pile of dirty laundry, waiting to be carted off to the bathroom.

It's hard to believe, when I tour my own home this way, that we ever lived here without her. Not only is the memory hard to bring around, but the physical evidence that she lives here runs so rampant through every single part of this apartment. She has become a complete part of our lives and our home.

I can't imagine this place any other way.

Thanks for coming. I'll walk you to the door. Oh. Yes, that's my umbrella on the floor, lying in your way. I guess Hayley pulled it off the doorknob again.

Please come again soon.

Hmmm. I have *got* to stop letting Hayley watch hip hop videos on MuchMusic. Clearly, it's affecting her sense of style.

Nice low-riders, Hay.

Speaking of pictures, I put up quite a few in the photo album from our Labour Day weekend. Enjoy!