Boot Scoot Boogie

There are milestones in every baby's life. The first bath, the first smile, the first poop. Parents swell with pride as their little one masters one  bodily function after the next. Each phase is celebrated for a short period of time, and then everyone begins to wonder when the next step will follow. The first roll, the first bite of food, the first time sitting up.

All of a sudden, you look up and wonder when did this happen?

I'd bet that Oliver would skip crawling, and just start walking. He just had to prove me wrong. He's stubborn, but he gets it honestly.

He started crawling this week. For the last few weeks he's been getting onto all fours and bouncing back and forth. We'd watch him get up some momentum. Back and forth. Back and forth. Then he'd roll onto his back and start chewing on his feet. If he wanted a toy, he'd streeeetch and get it. He'd lay on his belly and wave his arms like he was swimming. It's amazing how much he could get into without actually being "mobile."

As I was telling my Mom how he still wasn't crawling--he started moving. He just crawled like he'd always known how. I think he'd been practicing in his room without me knowing it. I started narrating the event to my Mom.

"He's moving! His left arm is out. Now his right. His legs are trying to keep up. He's going right to the....DOG FOOD! NOOO Oliver! NOOO! Don't put that in your mouth! Mom, I'm gonna have to call you back."

I put him in the living room. I thought, Okay, there's no dog food in here. We should be good. Wrong. Right to the electrical cords. As his fat legs scooted across the carpet all he was thinking was nom nom nom. All I was thinking was electricution.

Suddenly, dog food didn't seem like such a big deal.

Let's wrap this up.

Two months into motherhood my house began to look like an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I wish I could blame this on some medical issue or even sheer laziness, but I can't. I have to blame it on--  Oliver. He loved being held. In fact, he only loved being held. He'd fall asleep and get floppy little limbs. As soon as his diaper hit a flat surface his whole body jerked. The alarm had been sounded. He was, awake.

Don't get me wrong. I loved holding him. I couldn't get enough of him. I could've held him for a year and not minded, but when I saw a tumble weed made of dog hair rambling through my kitchen I knew something had to give.

When he was in utero he was held all the time, and I guess he thought the outside world should work the same way. My in-laws gave us a baby carrier. They're missionaries to Japan, and they bought it for us a a gift. The carrier could function four different ways, but it came with directions in Japanese. Um, by the time I learned to read  them Oliver would be in kindergarten, and I do hope he's past this phase in life by then. (My husband did figure it out, and it's adjusted to fit him. It makes him feel special.)

I decided to try a Moby wrap. This better work, I thought. It costs $40, and it's just a piece of fabric! Boy, is it a piece of fabric. I opened the package and thought I had found Mary Poppins floral duffle bag. It kept coming and coming. I stood in a pile of green fabric and began to slowly pull it all together. I wrapped and pulled and tied it.

I decided to take it for a test drive. Getting the baby into the wrap is just as tricky as putting the thing on. I put Oliver in, and he loved it! He rode around in it and not one of his limbs went numb, so that's a success as far as I'm concerned.

He fell asleep in the wrap for two hours. I didn't know he could sleep that long. I cleaned everything I could get my hands on. I windexed things that should not be windexed. I was unstoppable. My house was spotless, my child was happy, and for the first time in awhile, I didn't have anything to blame on Oliver.

Shoot, I wear the wrap in stores too. I put it on before I leave the house. Sure, people probably think I'm part of some strange cult, or worse, that I'm crunchy. They can think whatever they want. I don't have to lug around a stroller, and I can use both hands at all times. Oliver takes in the world around him, and I think he likes the view. Looking down on his fuzzy little head and fat limbs, I have to say, I think I like it too.