So this is actually a reenactment because he no longer gets his feet trapped and then just lies there and wails all, "STUUUUUCK! Fuckity fuck stuckity stuck in the stockade on my stomach GAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
He still sticks his feet through. But now he knows how to unstick!
But seeing his little feet poking through reminded me of how confused and terrified I was when trying to figure out the baby gear business. The crib. The changing table. The this. The that.
All the decisions were overwhelming. I got wonderful help from a lot of you.
I do best when I have maybe three options, tops. Too many choices and I get dizzy and then I have to go lie down.
Fortunately Nick is very decisive. Even when he doesn't know what he's doing.
But the thing with the baby stuff is that there are all these issues like safety hazards! Recalls! Your baby could be dismembered or die! Or both!
And the crib is a big deal, so of course you want to get the absolute perfect one. Or at least one that is not going to maim or kill your kid.
Call me alarmist, but I spent a lot of the beginning of J's life making sure he was still alive. Sometimes I still make sure he's breathing, actually.
So while I was pregnant I was reading that Baby Bargains book, where they rate all these brands and talk about safety and such.
This crib. That crib. This crib is made by this company, but marketed under that brand, and those have had some safety issues...Like death.
Don't borrow an old crib. Because the slats might be too wide. And your kid could stick his head through. And die.
And don't get a soft mattress. Because your kid could squish his face into it. And die. The mattress has to fit snugly. Or your kid could get his head stuck. And die. And the sheets have to have elastic all around, or they could come off. And kill your kid. Let's not get started on bumpers...
This had me in a frenzy for weeks. Weeks.
I went into work one day and asked David what crib they bought. And what mattress. And what sheets. And if their baby was still alive.
He was all, "Just pick one you like. All the new ones that meet safety standards are fine."
And I said, "You know what I'd really like? I'd like a big plexiglass box. That way you wouldn't have to worry about the slats. And you could always see your kid."
I had searched, in fact. I hadn't found any.
He leaned forward. He gave me a look. "They make those, Lis."
"Yeah. They're called terrariums."