Moving On Up

Having a child, we were convinced our little condo was more than enough space for the three of us.  After all, it worked well for just the two of us, so adding a third, especially a tiny little person, would be easy-peasy.  Alas, what we didn't realize was that the child is only the tip of a plastic, battery powered, space hogging iceberg.  If you are unfamiliar with what I am talking about here's a three step process to understand. 


Step 1) Go to the house of someone who has a 6-12 month old.  Hopefully they're family or a friend or at least an acquaintance, but if you have to break into some family's home, well, sometimes we have to make a sacrifice for the sake of education.  


Step 2) Close your eyes and take a step.


Step 3) Open your eyes.  That thing you stepped on, that hurt like hell and caused you to stumble into that other thing, which made you totally lose your balance and go crashing into a pile of other crap.  Yeah, that's the plastic shit I'm referring to.


Diapers, diaper genies, changing pads, onesies, , bouncy chairs, swings, slings, cribs, exersaucers, playpens, books, toys, strollers, pack n' plays, etc. etc. etc.  They all infiltrate your life and fill up all the available space in your home, displacing the things you used to have, like floor space and furniture with hard edges.  


But possibly the most annoying thing of the whole process, more than the cost, more than the space crunch, even more than the fact your child will only enjoy any individual item for maybe 2 weeks, is that there is now a region of your brain that is dedicated to remembering and understanding words like "onesie," "exersaucer" and "pack n' play."  Yeah, that's a part of my brain I'm never getting back.  I'd try to kill the brain cells with alcohol, but the only clean glasses we have are sippy cups.