What a Mama does for love

Love hurts, they say. Usually they mean emotionally, but I can vouch for the physical pain today.

The little boys and I were having a lazy morning playing in our bed. A very mellow start.

Baby, who Rascal recently christened "Kye" (not remotely close to his actual name, by the way), is crawling now. But apparantly that's not enough for him yet - I can tell he wants to walk. I learned early on that mobility in children is in fact not desirable. Just read any of my Rascal stories and you'll know what I mean!

Where most children would perhaps pull themselves up on furniture, Kye uses any part of my body to accomplish this; it's usually my hair, ear, or jaw. Today, however, as I was lying on the bed, he crawled onto my chest, then sank his head like a tripod onto my face and pushed his legs out straight.

There were two small problems: first, his feet were grinding into my stomach; and second, his mouth was open when he planted his face directly over my nose. If only it were deja vu... As I attempted to free myself, he bit down and balled his fists in my hair. I actually called to Rascal for help.

"Kye, what doing?" Rascal sat there, not overly concerned. Kye just laughed.

Later, after I cleaned myself up, Rascal and I were wrestling and tickling. Then he pulled a fast one, headbutting me on the nose. I thought I was going to die, the pain was so excruciating! I probed gingerly convinced something was broken, feeling and tasting the coppery blood trickle back down my throat.

I might not survive these toddler years.