I’ll lay it on its side. I shouldn’t be doing this. Wait until Alan gets home to help. Jacks been running up the backrest of the recliner sticking his toes in the indentations like he’s rock climbing. I’m afraid he’s going to go over the top and land on his head. The chair’s located in the only “child safe area” but I’m beginning to doubt it’s possible for such a place to exist. I have to move the chair. I lay it on its side. Push it up the small set of stairs, and down the hall. Jack and Fiona are in their high chairs whining to get out. I have to move a heavy couch out of the room I’m putting the chair in. Again I think, “Wait until Alan gets home to help you.” I can’t. “Stop thinking about moving the furniture.” I’m obsessed. I need to use self-control. “Just let it go” but I can’t. I move the couch back, strain my muscle and scratch the floor. Dumb. I’m trying not to be hard on myself, but that really was dumb. Why couldn’t I just wait for Alan to get home? Why did it NEED to be done right then?

There are three pieces of furniture left in the family room. A couch, that should be able to stay for the duration of this stage of the babies lives. This crazy dangerous climbing, running, stage. The ottoman, which may need to go once they can push it and use it to climb onto the top of the stairwell. And one tall, round coffee table that when left too close to the couch Jack climbs on. My heart starts to race just writing about it. I need to get a bunch of boxes and start packing everything away. Even things on the highest shelves. Especially things on the highest shelves. When they see something they want they will figure out a way to get to it. They are too fast, really fast. My tactic lately is hold one and pull one by the arm. If I don’t have contact with both babies as we travel through the house they go off to find things, find doors I forgot to shut, cabinets I forgot to lock. The other day Jack had a bottle of stainless steel polish in his mouth.  I said, “Oh my god Jack!” I grabbed it and put it back in the cabinet. I walk away for one minute to get Fiona or a diaper, I can’t remember which and he’s got the same bottle again! It’s poison! It should be locked in the cleaning supply closet. Along with who knows how much other dangerous stuff scattered around the house.

I know it’s hard and challenging with multiple children of any age, but I think having two fifteen month olds takes the cake. I did run into a neighbor who has a baby the same exact age and she said he’s not walking yet. Now that would be a different story for sure. But Jack and Fiona are running, not walking, running. And Fiona has a knack for going the opposite direction I want her to, unless she wants something. At least jack still comes to me when I hold my arms out. The other day Fiona took off her hearing aids, I started walking towards her to get them, she starting running away from me, stuffing one of the hearing aids in her mouth, turning her face away and closing her mouth tight. I thought she was going to swallow it and choke. I was so scared. I grabbed her and scooped out the hearing aid.

I’m finding it hard to relax, maybe because we’ve been homebound for a week. No breaks, no Yoga, bad colds, and lots of new developmental stuff. I don’t like my new role of saying “NO” and “NO” over and over again. It’s really exhausting. “Be careful you’re gonna crack your noggin!” I say over and over again. I know this phase of development will be one of the most challenging. It’s also probably the longest phase too. Welcome to Toddlerhood.