Mama Proof

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

To prevent our little crawling, standing, and exploring mini-person from eating chemicals, falling down stairs, and being electrocuted, Matt took a trip to the safety aisle at Babies 'R Us.  He installed latches on the cabinet doors, gates on the staircases, and covers on the outlets.  Ari is safe.  

But I'm not.

Last week, with Matt out for testosterone Poker Night, I went into the kitchen to perform my nighttime ritual...running the dishwasher. 

The cabinet with the dishwasher soap was latched shut. 

Hmm I wondered, how hard could it be to open one of these little things? 

Pretty damn hard.  (You come over and try to get it unhinged.)  I pulled, I squeezed, I pushed.  It didn't budge.

I could, however, get the cabinet open 1/2 a finger length wide... I thought, maybe I can just reach in, open the soap container, and grab one of the "action pack" squares.

(This is not a picture of the actual event, but, it looked, and felt just like this.)

I could almost touch the box of soap.  If I could manage to reach down another inch or two, I would be golden.  I stretched and I moaned and I wiggled just right, and I got into the soap box!  But, as if you haven't figured out where this story is going, I could not get my arm out.  I pulled.  It hurt.  I wiggled.  It hurt.  I moaned.  It freakin' hurt.  Then I panicked. 

Matt wouldn't be home for another 5 hours, I couldn't reach the phone, and I had no way to get my arm out of the cabinet.  Regretting the carbohydrates I had consumed earlier in the evening, I looked around for a solution.  Knives?!  (It had been 127 hours seconds.)  NAH.  Dish soap?!  YES. 

Not so long story short, I managed to adequately saturate my arm in soap and water, and I gently removed my sore and swollen limb from the cabinet.  I sat down on the kitchen floor.  And I almost cried.

In need of sympathy, I emailed my husband the sob story.  He wrote back,  "Did you run the dishwasher?" 

No honey, I did not.  You did such a stupendous job mommy proofing that I'm unable to do housework.  And wouldn't you know...Ari can somehow climb up on the washing machine.  Will you please buy a latch for it as well?


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