Ouch!

Before the G-man came along, I thought pregnancy and childbirth were the only parts of motherhood that hurt (aside from emotional things like having your little one leave for the first day of school without even looking back and stuff like that). I just assumed the pain ended there and the only bumps, bruises and scrapes I'd have to attend to were on my wee guy.

Um, no.

I may be bigger than he is, but he fights dirty.

Seemingly from day one, I have been on the receiving end of star-seeing head butts; fingers to the eye; jabs to the ear; lips stretched down my chin; nose bonks; skin pulls; feet to the head, chest, stomach; my wrists are shot from holding him so much; and more that can make you feel like you're on the losing end of every prize fight.

No matter how often the fingernails get trimmed, there's always a little something poking out that catches my gums as he exploring my mouth or scrapes my fingers as he's examining my hands. And the toenails! Yikes. A scratch from the big toe as he clamors aboard can actually draw blood.

Teething bites are cute when it's still all gummy in there. But once the first one pops through, watch out. They are like puppy teeth - sharp and biting everything. G-man currently has 8 chompers, 4 on top, 4 on the bottom, all in the front. Now the molars are coming and my shoulder is paying for it. He latches on with all he's got and tries to tear the skin off. Either I'm really tasty or he's secretly being raised by wolves. Thankfully, I haven't heard of him trying this cannibalistic behavior on any of his friends, but it may just be a matter of time. Last week, he clamped down so hard I still have the bruise it left on my arm and the tooth indentations were around for a while, too. 

A recent favorite past time is pinching. Not big, whole hand things; rather, little nippy ones. He grabs my skin (usually that attractive waving portion on my underarms) and works his tiny fingers like they are mining for diamonds under there. It hurts. And leaves red/blue/purple marks just in time for short-sleeve weather. 

The act of being on the floor automatically puts me in harm's way. He rams his toys into me (and the dog - he doesn't seem to realize what's coming); climbs on me with legs, feet and hands in delicate areas; drops things on me; and of course, occasionally just falls down on top of me. 

All this I am supposed to accept with a gracious smile even though he is allowed to shriek with the horrors of having a toothbrush near his mouth. 

Along with the standard issue hazmat suit I mentioned in my first post, new mom kits should come with first aid supplies for the adults that get in the way of the whirling dervish they just brought home. Perhaps full body armor or one of those inflatable sumo wrestler suits. Oh, and I hear a bottle of vodka can do wonders.