My Husband, the Hero


I’ve never been one of those crazy women who sends her husband out on a hormone-crazed trip to the grocery store at 11:30 p.m. for a very specific type of ice cream. Or chips. Or pickles. But I did send him on an emergency trip to Target a couple of weeks ago. It was a Saturday actually, and during Monkey’s nap that day — the nap that she refused to take for an hour and a half, after getting a terrible night’s sleep and I could just not FATHOM the idea of her NOT taking a nap after how little sleep she got the night before — I broke the sh*tty plastic gate that had been containing her in her room.

I hated that plastic gate.

It was the gate that she climbed over after the first few nights of transitioning to her big girl bed. The gate that we then moved up a couple of inches in the door frame so that she could no longer climb over it. Except, the problem was that we could no longer climb over it then. Especially me, with my big pregnant belly, and my whacked center of gravity. Which meant, that if Monkey was terrorizing her room — throwing socks, completely removing entire drawers from her chest, knocking her pillows off the bed, etc. — we could not easily get in the room and silently lay her back down. And without the gate, well without the gate it was a hopeless cause. Without the gate it was a never-ending frustration parade of getting out of bed over 100 times, me crying, and none of us getting any sleep.

I know what you’re thinking. I hated the gate and broke it in a moment of frustration because she had been crying and hysterical for an hour and refusing to sleep. But actually, I didn’t. It was a real piece of sh*t and I happened to break it when trying to open it so I could get into the room to stop Monkey from terrorizing it. But oh what a blessing it was to break that gate. Because now, now we have this:

I love this gate. Not only can it be unobtrusively pressure-mounted (or permanently installed if you prefer), but it has vertical bars, meaning Monkey literally has nothing to get her leg up on. Plus, it’s 10 inches taller, and the best part — WE CAN WALK THROUGH IT! I LOVE THIS GATE! This gate has been a savior!

My husband is the hero responsible for picking this gate. I wanted him to get the new gate because I had gotten the plastic one, and obviously was not qualified for gate-picking-out duties. My only request was that he get one that had a pass through so that neither one of us had to try to jump over the d*mn thing.

So my husband dashes off to Target after Monkey’s nap (BTW, in case you’re curious I finally gave in and laid down with her, which I hate to do, but praise God, she slept for two and a half hours). While he was there, standing in the aisle and mulling over his gate options, he saw another dad with a wife and toddler, also agonizing over gate choices.

The other dad picked up the sh*tty plastic gate. Just as my husband was about to say “DON’T DO IT, MAN!” the other dad turned to my husband and said, “Don’t get this one. It’s a piece of sh*t.”

My husband laughed and said, “I actually just returned that thing because it broke. I’m getting a new one.”

The other dad just smirked. As he was walking away, my husband saw the other dad selecting the new gate we had chosen.

What an awesome display of dad solidarity!

As long as my husband was going to Target, I figured it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience to ask him to pick up some “good” chocolate for me. Chocolate being my sanity during the dark days of big girl bed transition. I told him, “You know, good stuff, like the Lindt dark chocolate bars that I like, the ones with the filling,” I said.

So after choosing the gate, he trudged on through Target to get my chocolate like the hero that he is. Except he wasn’t absolutely sure he was getting the right thing, so he called me (smart move). As he’s explaining the choices to me over the phone, I’m telling him that he’s got all the wrong ones.

“No, not Ghiradelli, I said Lindt,” I told my husband as he asked me if this was the right one.

“Oh, sorry, you must mean this one,” he said describing another wrong one.

I wanted the Lindt dark chocolate bar, the one with the smooth filling!

“Okay, okay, I see it. I see what you mean,” my husband said.

After he hung up, an older woman standing next to my husband said, “Yeah, those hormones. You gotta get the right one.”

My husband, surprised that this woman must have known I was pregnant, confirmed, “Yeah, especially because she’s pregnant.”

The woman looked at my husband incredulously and said, “You better get the right one then.”

Freaking hysterical! At least my hormone-driven grocery runs aren’t late at night!

My husband really is a hero. And luckily for us, he bought a gate that has (pretty much) ended my chocolate binge.

P.S. In case anyone is interested, the savior gate is a The First Years brand and is called “Extra Tall Home Décor Gate.” Currently, it’s out of stock on, but here’s an Amazon link to it:


11 responses »

  1. Jen – We have that gate too. We love it – well, as much as you can love a gate. I actually hate all gates, whether you can walk through them or not. Doing the laundry with gates is such a pain. Carly is about 2 weeks away from needing gates and we are dreading putting them back up. But when we do, I’ll remember your post and be glad we have the good gates, not the sh*itty plastic ones!

    • I can’t believe Carly is already old enough to need a gate!! We’re lucky that we only have to use a gate for her bedroom. We don’t have any stairs. I can imagine what you mean about laundry – as great as the walk through is, it’s not very wide.

  2. So here’s a silly “i’m not a mom” question. Why do you need a gate for her bedroom? Why not close the door? Is it so you can leave the door open and see what she’s doing?

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