The Joy of Clean Carpets

My father, who used to clean carpets professionally, cleaned the carpeting in our downstairs, the stairway and the hallway. They look lovely and the house has that rug shampoo smell. All the juice stains are gone. Somehow, I am now MORE concerned with the carpets than when they were first installed. About a year-and-a-half ago, we got new carpeting, thanks in part to a gift from my parents, who wanted to prevent their only grandchild from crawling around on the filth-encrusted germ carnival that was our original carpeting. The color of that foam left on the beach after high tide and liberally covered with various unidentifiable stains, the carpet had barely survived the family of eight who'd previously lived here. However, being poor and anticipating spills from our own children, we hadn't replaced it. When becoming a mother began to loom more real, I realized that putting a child on that carpet would be the equivalent to letting them play in a fast-food restaurant bathroom, and I'd been relieved when my parents offered to help us replace it. I love the carpet, I love the color, the texture - all of it. I really didn't worry much about it getting dirty, our dog is housebroken, the Husband and I don't spill much. By the time we brought Eddie home, I'd gotten over the whole new carpet feel, so again, didn't think much of it. But now that the carpets are new again, my little man is mobile and leaves a trail of sticky crumbs in his wake. I'm considering new rules for the carpets - no shoes, no food, no drinks, no pets, no babies and no Husbands on the carpet. It might be tricky, since that covers most of the first floor, but it leaves them the kitchen and bathroom, provided we install a ladder to the second floor from the outside. I'll make it work.