At My Babyproofing Wit's End

Livers and I spend most of our time in the den. She also has access to the hallway, or runway as it more so should be called. (She rarely goes into the kitchen, because she's like a bat without wings in there. I can only jerk her off of the table so many times without going crazy.) The den has seen quite an evolution in its time with Livers. In the beginning it looked like this:


It was a warm and cozy adults' palace. I could leave stuff out on the coffee table (like the paint and supplies you see from when I was painting canvases for her room), not worry about a Christmas tree being climbed into, DVDs could be displayed in their glory, plants could rest without worry of being jerked or bitten, and wires could run freely along the floors. (Sorry about the preggo pic. It's the only decent pre-Livers room picture I could find).

Then Livers started to become mobile, rolling around and scooting on her fat little baby belly. The room had to change. The coffee table would get moved, all furniture was pushed to the edges of the room, and the rug was vacuumed regularly to give her ample space to roll around without looking like she was going to be deep-fried in dog fur.


And THEN she started to sit and pull up, and it was a whole new ballgame. She started to explore and get into things that she didn't need to be messing with.

Things like Mama's People Magazine. Good thing I had read it already.

And Daddy's computer. And Lacey.

The coffee table had to be replaced with a much smaller one that could be moved out of the way during the day. Gates were bought and put up. It looked like Fort Knox. Wires and cords were tucked away, and those that couldn't be were duct-taped to the wall or floor (we're a little ghetto like that).

Remember what the first Christmas tree picture was like? All free to hang out. Well, this year was in prison, and it was constantly being assaulted by Little Miss Long Arms. Only one ornament bit the dust, though, which was surprising.

Slowly but surely, Livers began to find the weaknesses in our defenses against her shenanigans. As she learned she could reach a book on a table, book would have to be put away. As she figured out how to reach over the gate and pull a DVD off of the shelf, the DVDs were moved lower or higher so she couldn't get them. (And as she got taller, pens were shoved tight between DVDs so she couldn't pry them off of the shelves.) When she poked her little fingers through the holes in the gate to reach a plant, I sadly had to move the only greenery in the house to different locations with less light and visibility.


Our little cozy den was turning into a giant playpen. DVDs, books, pictures, and lovely knick knacks were replaced with learning toys, bouncing balls, and baskets full of play things she was quickly outgrowing. As she learned to walk, these toys were being strewn into farther and farther reaches in the house. I learned to turn a blind eye to the clutter until bedtime, when I would rapidly put things back in their place to regain some semblance of sanity.


As Livers began to walk and run, we had to move a gate to give her the hallway to run up and down for hours on end. When she learned to climb on the sofa we had to push our wall-mounted lamps as close to the wall as possible to keep from from hanging on them and keep anything she might grab out of reach. More poor plants were relocated, and blinds were kept permanently pulled up, even though the strong winter sun was peaking through the barren trees.


When it became obvious that she needed more room, I repositioned the gates to give her more room, hoping she wouldn't figure out how to move tables to get to cords. (So far, so good. Only a matter of time, though.) It was nice, because it gave the illusion of a return to a normal room. Just overlook the toy store we're operating out of it.

See the gate behind her? There's actually two. One gate is tied to another one. You improvise.

Trying to either assault the lamp (she broke the first one), pull on speaker wire, or chew on the window sill. I caught her trying to do that today.

I believe, though, that this poor den is about to reach its end. Yesterday Livers figured out how to get BEHIND the gate (by pushing it down and climbing around it). We learned this by watching her unbox all of my Friends DVDs. I did a little bit more ghetto babyproofing, pushing the TV stand as far back to the wall as I could (because she likes to climb behind it to mess with wires) and tying the baby gate to it (to keep her from getting behind it). If this doesn't work, the next step is expensive, and I don't want to take it. It would mean mounting the TV to the wall and hanging the DVDs from racks mounted on the wall. I've got far better things to do with that money. Like by food. And gas. And pay my mortgage. Let's hope that it doesn't come to this, because Livers isn't one to listen to "no" (what 18-month-old is?), and I don't have the hours in the day to scold all day long.

Part of the new system. You can't see it, but the part of the gate hidden by the speaker is actually tied to the TV stand.

What happens when you try to wedge yourself between the wall and the TV stand and the space is only about four inches wide.

If anyone has an experiences with this they would like to share, words of wisdom, ideas to solve this problem, or amusing comments, then I am ALL ears.