Pain

pain

In the last half hour; I’ve had a small finger nail shoved into my gum till it bled, my face landed on whilst on a trampoline, a mop shaft pinch my finger and a gate close on and skin my heel. I’m not particularly accident prone, my favourite little helper just seems to help bad things happen to me more often than they used to.

He isn’t always directly responsible for my injuries but he always seems to be involved somehow. The mop needed returning after he took it downstairs, to mop the lawn. I was carrying it back up the stairs when I realised he was following his beloved mop and had snuck through the gate just before me. In order to avoid stepping on him, I delayed my final step. Just long enough to get hit on the heel, by the gate swinging closed behind me.

I have had an unfortunate number of close encounters with boy’s heads. The human head is ridiculously hard, which is both a wonderful mercy, when you see what boys do with them and a lip or nose busting, star seeing reality…for the same reason. There are very few days that pass injury free.

Whole bodies are flung, with complete abandon, into cuddles, trusting entirely that the adult in the relationship, will rescue them from any potential harm and never a thought to any damage that might be inflicted, on said adult.

I was under the impression that the time of pain, with regards to children, was in the birthing of them, nobody warned me that was only the beginning. I thought I’d gotten away with it relatively unscathed, drugged to within an inch of my life for the duration. No such foolish luck.

My son’s pain threshold, is a thing of beauty. A sleep deprived mother can, at times, be a little clumsy. There were times that his lack of reaction to accidents that befell him, as a direct result of my actions was of great relief. As a new mother, I was constantly worried about the things I was getting wrong, walking him into things was a no brainer. Sometimes fingers didn’t quite make it out of where they shouldn’t have been in time, or heads and doors attained an unintended intimacy, or things were tugged a little more forcibly than intended. He never did complain.

He also has two rambunctious brothers, who may very well one day, love him to death. Cuddles are often claimed with vice like grips, to ensure he stays for their entire duration. There have also been a few rub out sessions that aren’t downgraded to age appropriate violence levels. They do say, love is pain. They are not wrong.

* Image from http://vectorblog.org/2012/06/stopping-the-pain-of-sickle-cell-disease-at-its-source/

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