Not in some nebulous, crackpot “they make me vulnerable because I love them so much” sort of way.
No, I’m quite literally scared of my sons.
Boys are rambunctious. Put a three-year-old and five-year-old together and the end result is a fair bit of laughter, a substantial amount of yelling, at least one fit of tears and one cry of “Mo-om! He kicked/hit/pushed me”, and a wrestling match that rivals any you might see on the pro circuit. Unfortunately, these wrestling matches always seem to take place in my general vicinity (translation: my lap/head/legs/bed).
Sadly, it’s not just the horseplay. Two weeks ago Little G woke up in the morning and climbed into bed with me for a snuggle. As he made his way over to my side of the bed, his elbow caught me in the eye. The result was not attractive.
The black eye has finally faded to a faint shadow on my cheekbone, which is nice since for the last two weeks I’ve felt like I should wear a sign that says “My husband does not beat me, but my 3-year-old does.”
This morning we were sitting on the couch, watching cartoons, when Little G started goofing off and pulled the ultimate kid move—the “jerk the head back and smash mom’s nose so hard she immediately starts sobbing.” Good news: my nose isn’t broken. Bad news: I spent the rest of the day with a headache that radiated out from the bridge of my nose. Also, it hurts like a mother and I have some dark shadowing under my eyes. If I end up with any sort of black eye(s) from this, my neighbors will probably call the cops on Car. Thanks, Little G!
Tonight, as I was about to reach into the ottoman for the scriptures, 32 pounds of child launched himself onto the top of it, slamming it shut. Fortunately, my cat-like reflexes saved my hand and wrist from the painful crushing injury I’m sure would’ve resulted.
Did I mention when Big G was three he scratched my cornea?
I’d invest in a bubble, but the boys would probably pop it. Instead, I think I should go with this:
I think it’ll work.
*Some of you might think I’m joking. I’m not. I spent family prayer in the defensive position, because bowing my head next to a child’s head with my eyes closed seemed like begging for abuse.
**It’s possible after the ottoman incident, I yelled “I have had it!” and stormed off to the bedroom, where I hid under the covers and cried for a bit while Car read scriptures with the boys.
***Okay, it’s not just possible. Shut up. I’ve had a sinus headache all day.