Do not try this at home.

Baby BPM is almost 16 months old. An early walker, she is now steadfast. Sure of herself and her ability on her feet. We’ve moved swiftly past those days of trepidatious first steps to cave spelunking, parkour and zip-lining. She is fast, brave and has no sense of her own mortality. A combination that keeps me on my toes and rocking in a corner mumbling, “She is fast, but, I am faster. She is fast, but, I AM faster.” until my husband brings me a cocktail and a number of inspirational quotes he stumbled upon while googling, How do you know when to give your wife a hug or a therapist?

This is my fourth rodeo. By this time, I should be riding the bull with dignity and ease. One arm extended for balance; carrying a full glass of Pinot. A smug look on my face as I dig my heels a bit further into the horned beast. The bull bucking and frothing with no success as I remain seated and calm. Sadly, on this journey around the pen, I’m the clown, continually flailing and tripping in the oversized shoes with soles made of marbles.

I’ve used all my tricks. Baby gates. Items of danger moved out of reach. Barrel locks. She scoffs at these attempts to assure her safety. Gates? What are prehensile feet for if not for climbing gates? Countertops? What are easy bake ovens for if you can’t push them up to a chair, climb the oven to get to the chair and then stand on the countertop with floral scissors? What, your phone charger plugged in to a live socket doesn’t go in my MOUTH? Well, where would it go, pray tell? You DON’T stand on tables to look out of windows? That makes absolutely no sense.


Putting the EVIL in Evel Knievel.

Putting the EVIL in Evel Knievel.

We are in a state of perpetuals. My perpetual panicked creativity as I make failed attempt after failed attempt to contain her small and mighty David Copperfield. Her perpetual, “Bitch, please!” as she looks at me from someplace very dangerous and very high.

The outdoors offer no solace. What it does provide is sticks to pile by the base of the toddler slide so she be certain that if she falls, she has a sharp and pointy place to land. Obviously. The tree stumps that we did not grind because we thought they would make lovely, round toddler tables for outdoor lunches have become Black Eye Mountain as she throws caution and her body to the wind.

Bedtime is our only reprieve. Her exhaustion level after a successful day of near traumatic injury is only met by my exhaustion level at becoming the best untrained, medic/superhero in our solar system. This exhaustion is then met with disbelief when my husband wants to place a romantic spin on my Wonder Woman boots. It’s lasso of truth time, honey. No.

As we navigate this hopefully short-lived, but seemingly endless phase of toddlerhood, please try to ignore the baby in nothing but a diaper and water shoes planking on top of the 6 foot privacy fence. We’re experts, but, seriously…

Do NOT try this at home.


  1. Baby BPM – hysterical! Fingers crossed your health insurance is better than ours and covers pesky things like ER visits just in case.

  2. This makes me laugh… only because this is what my son is turning into. A brave hero who can’t/ WILL NOT be stopped.

  3. I just have to say that you make Mommy me laugh, but you also make Teacher me proud; you’re one helluva writer! I’ll refill your Pinot if you’ll tell me what going from 2 kids to 3 was like. I’m stalking mothers of 3+ for their two-cents!

    • If you don’t already have 3 kids and are interested in having more than 2, you may want to ask yourself if you REALLY want to know what it’s like to go from 2 to 3:) Let’s just say, I thought I knew what I was doing until the 3rd one showed up!

      • This comment scares me because my hubby and I are talking/possibly working on number 3.

        Also, this post had me giggling a little. My son is still a little monkey, but he only really climbs onto counter tops now.

    • Bethany says:

      I just love you. You can sit next to me ANY time. So, 2 to 3 was a lesson in embracing chaos. I highly recommend it. I mean, I had 4 so I clearly survived 3. Three is the number that turns you from the mom who thinks she has it figured out to the mom that realizes you will never, ever have it figured out. I loved that about 3. It is a lesson in giving in, patience and tolerance for all things chaotic. DO IT. Chaos is bliss. Right? That’s the phrase, right?

  4. *Nods enthusiastically* And now that I’m done concurring, I must pull the twins out of the dirty laundry and attempt to talk the baby out of slapping me in the face for the third time.

    • Bethany says:

      Why must they slap us? What did my face ever do to them other than make angry eyes and sometimes yell and sometimes to often say no and…ok, ok, I get the slapping now.

  5. It’s my fourth time at the rodeo, too, and I think there is something about #4 (perhaps all the older siblings) that is full of confidence and “Bitch, Please” moments. I’d share the places I’ve found this boy, but it might give yours some ideas.

    • Bethany says:

      Today she climbed on top of our glass outdoor table and grabbed a can of seltzer and then stood up. She is going to be the death of me.

  6. You just described my almost 16 month old crazy girl!! She is the long lost twin of yours I fear. I’m scared, I’m very very scared!

    • Bethany says:

      Oh dear…I feel your pain sister. It is day to day over here. It’s the most dramatic toddler soap opera to never hit the airwaves.

  7. I totally relate. I’d write a longer comment, but the baby is playing hide and seek without me and I need to find her before I hear something break. Why didn’t the inventor of the door put the knobs at the TOP, where the baby can’t reach them?!?

  8. I wish I could say my son outgrew that kind of stuff, but he still flings himself off of things on a fairly regular basis. He has a really hard head, though. So that’s good.

  9. I love this, because even though my son is far past his toddler days I cannot go a day without hearing “Hey mommy watch this!!” Usually followed by a crash bang boom type sound or blood curdling screams. If I knew I wouldn’t sit in the corner drinking straight from the bottle of whatever cheap wine happened to be in the fridge and compulsively popping the bubble wrap I would install it on every inch of our home. Stay strong!

  10. Oh my gosh, I’m laughing and crying with you. What a little stinker. Maybe it’s just a phase???? (weak attempt at making you feel better)

    • Bethany says:

      As I type this, she is climbing a ladder with two handfuls of rocks. I should PROBABLY stop typing.

  11. This is the stage we’re in, too, at my my house. Except, I don’t get the “Bitch, please.” look from my son, I get the “Bitch, just back off!” look. And I like Pinot, too, so maybe we could lock them in a padded room and share a bottle. Or two . . .or . . .

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