Mother Abuse
ByI am going to end up with a major injury sometime in the next couple of years. It’s inevitable. They don’t mean to hurt me, but by the end of almost every day, I feel battered and bruised by my two boys. Little D can’t do much, but what he can do, he makes the most of. He gets a death grip on my hair and in particular, likes to get ahold of those little hairs at the nape of the neck and brings me to my knees. Prying his little fingers open is more challenging than it ought to be it seems – he is only (almost) 7 months old after all. One of the upsides to not being able to breastfeed (I tried. I did. My mammary glands failed me. Or rather, failed them…) is that at least he’s not biting me now with his new little razor sharp teeth.
Big J has nearly broken my nose a couple of times and given me a fat lip. Okay… that’s a little teeny exaggeration, but it FELT like he broke my nose with that hard head of his, and I had to go check the mirror to see if my lip was swollen the other day after an accidental head-butting incident. He is just so physical- lots of excited flailing around and jumping on me unexpectedly. Then there are the times he wants to play catch and doesn’t warn me ahead of time, kicking while on the changing table, stepping on my feet… I really had no idea that being the mother of boys was such a dangerous occupation. Or, do little girls do this kind of stuff too?
