Motherhood is a Contact Sport

I have a swollen nose and can’t tell if those dark lines under my eyes are dark circles or black eyes.

Last week I was head-butted by a toddler trying to get a better view of Papa in the iPad. Homeboy made CONTACT; it was a direct hit to my nose. I heard a crack. I saw stars. I tasted blood. I felt as though I’d just received a full body blow from one of the boys’ beloved Big Trucks.

As GrammaJ and Papa heard the commotion alongside a stellar view of our ceiling (I dropped that gadget right quick), blood began gushing. From my newfound fetal position on the couch, I mumbled toward the technology that we had to go. I was relatively certain I’d just been decapitated.

“Mommy?” asked Search.

“Uh oh,” acknowledged Destroy.

I went and found the frozen corn. I doubt it’s edible any longer – it’s spent time on Destroy’s mauled cheek and Search’s giant goose egg. In any case, said frozen vegetables and the consecutive bottles of red pinot were totally medicinal.

The next morning was painful. Literally.

It’s a little talked about concept – motherhood is a contact sport. Not unlike like Fight Club.

(And I’m not even talking about having your body literally sliced open as your insides are set aside as the tiny parasites are removed and shuttled down the hall, breaking your heart in the process.)

I am going to break from protocol here. And break from the first rule of Fight Club (Let’s keep this just between us, okay? But that’s totally what it is.)

The responses came flooding in. I was not alone. Momma Be Thy Name has agreed to brew the (good) coffee for the Toddler Abuse Support Group.

I wholeheartedly agree. I also maintain this is why we write this all down. (Surprise! Not just for your viewing pleasure. Ok, a little for your viewing pleasure.)

But for the time being – my nose? Totally broken.



Filed under Family Stories, Health, Parenting, Seriously?

5 Responses to Motherhood is a Contact Sport

  1. Oh no, Tricia! Bless your heart. That sounds awful. They don’t know their own strength!
    The other day, Baby L (2) was trying to climb onto my lap. He reached up and grabbed my nipple to pull himself up. I think I blacked out. I came to and he was sitting in my lap. Oy vay!

  2. Joanne Hamann

    OUCH! So sorry!

  3. Ouch! (This sometimes happens with my son and hubby! No black eyes or broken noses… yet!)

    Love your captures of all the tweets!

    And congrats again on BlogHer! I’ll be bugging you for info, still can’t figure that place out! My head spins whenever I’m there (and not because I was butt-headed by a toddler!).

  4. Steph

    One more in the Cosaro log of broken noses!

  5. This morning, CJ was beside me, asking for milk at something like 4 in the morning. The rule is firm – you need to wait for the alarm. Somehow, I convinced him to cuddle back to sleep. Soon after he stopped fidgeting, I fell asleep . . . and, a little while later, I was woken. CJ smacked me. I woke up, dazed and afraid that I was sleeping through something important . . . little bugger was out cold, but his arm held high in the air.

    (and now I fear the repercussions for talking about toddler fight club)

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