Saying Goodbye To Big Baby Equipment Was The Greatest Moment Of My Life
Some people love the baby-stage, others of us thought it was like a Sunday stroll through hell. It’s not just the lack of sleep, the endless pooping and vomiting, and the boredom, it’s also all of their things.
Little babies have enormous accessories. I wasn’t aware before I had kids that having a swing, an exersaucer, and a jumparoo would take up all of the space in my living and dining room combined. Why does someone who weighs nine pounds need a piece of equipment that I can’t fit through a doorway?
Needless to say, once my kids outgrew that stuff it was an absolute joy to get rid of them. Take it, Goodwill! Take it all! Every time something went out the door it felt like a big, warm hug.
1. Goodbye, Exersaucer.
Holy enormous circle of noises, you are my nemesis. Granted, you are handy when Mommy needs a moment to go to the bathroom and cry/poop/drink. But it’s still nice to have that entire corner of the house back. Buh-bye.
2. Goodbye, Swing.
Only the world’s widest base will do when we want to swing our kids violently to sleep without them landing on the other side of the room. Later, swing. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.
3. Goodbye, Pack N’ Play.
You are no longer able to contain babies who have become climbers, and I must show you to the exit. On the plus side, I will now be able to open my front door all the way, you horrible monster.
4. Goodbye, Activity Mat.
Babies need stimulation, which is why I have this intensely colorful thing the size of a large picnic blanket on my living room floor. My kids’ favorite thing to do on their activity mat was to fall asleep and/or vomit. Get out.
5. Goodbye, Crib.
Such a big bed, such a little baby. My child is growing up, rendering you useless. Leave this place and never come back.
6. And goodbye, Strollers. I won’t miss you most of all.
Oh, side by side stroller that conveniently folds up into the size of an adult Rottweiler. Stroller whose handlebars pull clothes off hangers when negotiating narrow aisles at the store. And you, double stroller with stadium seating, with your obnoxiously large turning radius and jarring bumps that spill my coffee. I bid you both adieu, and hope that you will burn in a house fire.
Goodbye to all you. I’m going to go not stub my toe for a few days.