Once you have kids, or have babysat for/visited someone who does, you'll know what I mean by "baby gauntlet". Yes, I am referring to all of the crap that somehow turns your home into an obstacle course.
Heaven forbid the phone rings when you accidentally leave it in the other room as there is no chance of getting to it while avoiding bodily harm from baby stuff.
Say goodbye to straight toes as many a toe has been broken running the baby gauntlet. And I must say, the bouncy chairs are the worst with their thin wire frames that are perfect for splitting toes and hurting like a *#%$@^! And I thought it was normally tough to stop swearing around the baby but this makes it impossible!
On any given day in our house, I end up bruised and battered by the plethora of baby toys that litter our home. From the exerscaucer, to the bouncy chair, the high chair, the playmat with the danglie things, the swing, the stroller, the car seat--and we aren't even in Ada's room!
My house is overrun with her stuff. Her laundry has invaded the bedroom, her diaper pail now occupies the bathroom--in addition to her towel, her rubber duck, and her baby shampoo-- she has her own shelf in the kitchen, her own slot for baby spoons in the drawer, and a large portion of the fridge and freezer dedicated to storing her milk, jars of baby food, and the ever elusive teething toys. The hallway is typically strewn with soiled burp cloths as they fall during the chaos of the day, awaiting retrieval when the all clear has been sounded as Ada goes to sleep for the night. A chair in the dining room is dedicated as her high chair, and it's parts are usually found scattered across the dining room table, frequently with a slimy bib, wash cloth, and the remnants of her most recent meal crusting over as we overlooked putting it away in our haste to serve our new ruling member of the household. The living room floor is her own personal playground with toys that seem to rotate like planes in and out of O'hare. Outside her bedroom door is the holding area for laundry and items that need to go into her room, but we don't dare open the door whilst she sleeps or we'd wake our little angel. And then there is the area right in front of the front door-- aka where we park the stroller when we are too lazy to move it into the closet or collapse it into the corner until our next adventure out. The only place she hasn't conquered is the hall closet and the back porch-- but it's only a matter of time. We're already talking about putting the baby pool on the back porch and I'm sure her towels, lotions and baby oils will soon commandeer the hall closet too.
But at least it's obvious I have a baby. And it's a great way to tell who your true friends are. They are the ones who still come over and don't scowl at you upon entering your baby's new kingdom of chaos. They don't mind that you have stuff everywhere and haven't had much time to pick up, let alone clean for them. And they love you anyway.
Moral of the story: You might bang up a few toes and feel like your home has been invaded, you'll miss more than a few phone calls due to the hoards of baby stuff, but babies have a great way of weeding out your true friends, and they are still worth all the chaos.