Six weeks ago, I left my very un-baby-proofed apartment with a very immobile baby in toe. And now we’re back, in our still VERY un-baby-proofed apartment, but this time, I have with me a very MOBILE baby. Perhaps a little bit unconventionally so, but surprisingly speedy, nonetheless.
I also have a raging case of jet lag, and no energy to do much more than sit on the floor, pounding back coffee, while staring blankly into the distance. Given our current situation, this presents somewhat of a problem.
This little predicament forces me to attempt important daily tasks while simultaneously preventing Stella from eating cat litter, which in my current state of exhaustion, taxes me more than you can know. I have resorted to such feats as one-armed make-up application while balancing a squirming almost-toddler on one hip, as she reaches for my mascara brush before attempting to stick a double-flip-pike-position dismount. But she can't stand yet, much less stick the dismount, so I've got to stop her from hurtling her body through space, ya know?
I don’t know what I was thinking, never bothering to baby-proof. (Probably something between “SHE’LL ALWAYS BE MY PRECIOUS WITTLE BAYBEE AND NEVER GROW UP” and “Meh, tomorrow”).
Anyway, we’re back in our deathtrap of an apartment, power cords dangling, outlets uncovered (which, by the way, have been a fascination for Stella since she was like five months old, but back they she couldn’t move, so meh, right?) The cat food and cat water buffet is open 24/7. Plates are free for smashing. Glass storage jars are equally available. Stella has already dumped a bottle of balsamic vinegar on the kitchen floor and there has already been one incident involving shards of glass and ceramic. But I won’t name names here.
I clearly have a project to get started on, like, STAT, but Japanese design makes this puzzle a little more difficult to solve. Everything is open concept, storage is at a premium and the kitchen is TINY; I have (no joke) about 1 square foot of counter space in my kitchen and no cupboards to speak of. And, by the way, our apartment is huge by local standards.
I’m left wondering where the hellz I am going to put things. Our plates, for example, are currently housed exactly at baby height, in open shelves. So far my dinnerware resettlement options include on that solitary square foot of counter space, because who needs to chop stuff, anyway? Or in our living room bookshelves. That would look normal, no? Maybe in the hallway with our coats? Or perhaps on the table? That way, like, it’s pre-set, right? Ha! I think I've hit upon the solution.