Seriously, Why Do I Bother?

So the other day, The Climber comes running up to me, begging "Mommy, Mommy, make me a super duper train tracks!" Naturally, being the loving mother (sucker) that I am, I set to work. First task is actually finding all the pieces of train track that are scattered around the entire house. Second is remembering how the damn things go together to form the cool layout in the picture on the box. I can't, so I give up and set about making my own super awesome train town. It takes for freaking ever. Thirty minutes later, VOILA!

The Climber is ecstatic and quickly sets to work running his new train town (complete with engine wash and zoo)! Five minutes after that, it looks like this.

And I hear "Mommy fix it!"

I think it's The Husband's turn to play trains.

Why My Son's Room Looks Like a Mental Institution, or How The Climber Got His Nickname

This is an old story, but considering how often I've updated this blog since I started it, I suppose I have some catching up to do. In order to avoid using real names out here in the big, bad internet, I've dubbed my son (now almost 3) The Climber. Here is why I use that moniker.

The Climber's room used to look really cute. It was sports themed with coordinated curtains, bedding, and wall decorations. Every neurotic, OCD mother's decorating dream, if I do say so myself. Now it looks like the room of a committed lunatic. No decorations, bare dresser, bare bookcase/cabinet, and nothing on the walls. There are also no knobs on both the dresser and bookcase/cabinet. Why you ask? Well I'll tell you.

Husband and I long ago put the drawer locks you use in the kitchen on his dresser drawers and on the cabinet part of his bookcase. I hate putting away laundry more than doing it, so one round of The Climber ripping every piece of clothing out of his drawer and throwing it on the floor necessitated drawer locks. After that we figured the dresser (which was already secured to the wall, for tipping prevention) was pretty much babyproofed. Wrong.

Now, we already knew The Climber was really a monkey in boy's clothing, because he was out of his crib at the ripe old age of 18 months. Hence he is now in a big boy bed, and able to leave it pretty much whenever he wishes. One day, during The Climber's "nap" I happened to look over at the video monitor and saw that he was out of bed. Surprise surprise. So upstairs I go, and when I open his door I find him sitting (proudly) on top of his dresser, which doubles as his changing table.

"How did you get up there?" I ask.

He points down at the drawers, which are still closed, and answers "Steps!" In a 'duh mom, what are you stupid' kind of tone.

"What steps?" I ask, stupidly.

"Those steps," he says again. And points to the knobs on his dresser drawers. You have got to be freaking kidding me.

So off come the knobs, to be replaced with pieces of leather cord secured by a washer. Problem solved right? WRONG. The next day during "nap" I see that he's out of bed again. So again I go up, expecting to see him playing on the floor or whatever.

Nope. He's once again up on top of the dresser. So this time, I get smart (or so I think) and ask him to show me how he got up there. And The Climber, ever the little monkey, is more than happy to oblige. What I had failed to notice when removing the knobs the day before is that each drawer has a decorative trim about 1/8 to 1/4 inch deep around the outside of the drawer. Apparently, this is all The Climber needs to get a toe hold and haul himself up on top of the dresser. And there is nothing I can do about that, short of removing the whole dresser from the room, which is not going to happen. So down come the cute sports pictures and the wall lamp that were over his dresser, along with everything on the adjacent wall that is within his reach when standing on the dresser. The bookcase/cabinet had to be emptied too, since he was also climbing up on that.

And that is why The Climber's room looks like a mental institution.