No, they’re not really trying to kill me, sneaking up with knives behind my back “et tu” style.  It’s not deliberate at all.  It’s just kids being kids.

My husband says I should dodge better – “be more defensive!” he says, while trying to hide the laughter.  I saved that comment for one memorable moment when our roles were reversed.  Apparently it’s not as funny when he’s the injured party.

No, my kids are …. kids.  Clueless, klutzy, exuberant, bouncing little puppies with too much energy.

 

Tonight, I was getting the Destroyer ready for bed.  Normal night, average amount of grumpy complaining and screaming “no bed!”  While putting pajamas on, he decided that this was a perfect time to jump!  And he did.  Right into my chin.

I flailed out of the room snarling unintelligible curse words.  I’m darned lucky that my mouth was closed and my tongue was tucked back where it belongs, otherwise I would have bitten it pretty badly.

Once I could speak without hurling bitter words at him, I explained that he hurt mommy and NO MORE JUMPING!  We snuggled a bit longer than average because we were both upset.

 

Funnily enough, the Destroyer is my most frequent nemesis.  Perhaps I’m more distracted.  Maybe it’s because I’m older and my reflexes suck these days.  Not sure.  When I had my sinus surgery we had a very real, planning type of discussion on the things that I could and couldn’t do.  Top of the list:  Do Not Sit On The Floor With The Kids.  Because one good hit and surgery was pointless.

 

I’m not even counting the countless minor injuries sustained by stepping on toys left on the floor.  The new favorite thing is to bring a toy in the kitchen and ask me a question, then wander off leaving the toy behind.  What’s up with that?  Did the kitchen somehow become a dumping ground?  The Engineer and I had a little “discussion” about this very thing after he wandered in and deposited a trip hazard with wheels positioned right behind me.  Thankfully, my mom eyes (the ones in the back of your head, you know those?) saw it and made him remove it before I forgot it was there and promptly tripped over it.

Nope, parenting is not for the faint of heart.  Or the slow and clumsy.

I actually think my reflexes aren’t that bad.  It’s just that the kids’ are better.  On a bike ride/walk around the trail last week, the Princess decided that she could handle going down the hill on her new bike.  I was at the bottom, Mr. Genius at the top.  We were both yelling “use the brake!” but I don’t think she even heard.  I watched her gain speed down the hill, feet off the pedals and a look of growing panic on her face.  Right past me was the pond.  Water.  And she was going right for me and the water very fast.

I pivoted, and grabbed her arm and the bike at the same time when she got to me, and swung them both around onto the trail.  She stopped, fully on her feet and still panicked, with the bike laying on the trail in front of us.  Pretty smooth, if I say so myself – and certainly NOT something I thought I could pull off.  No more hills for the Princess!

 

Why is it that when the kids throw things that they always hit and hurt someone or something?  They suck at aiming, yet they always manage to hit things.  Like mommy’s legs, the Princess’ face (beanbag right to the nose, ouch) or the long-suffering, stoic dog.   Given the odds of hitting something with such poor aim, aren’t they supposed to miss most of the time?  That’s exactly why I laughed hysterically when the Engineer pointed to the dart game and declared that he wanted it.  Nope, not giving you darts!  Nerf guns were bad enough!

 

If the Destroyer ever meets you and gives you a hug, remember this post.  Because he doesn’t just hug – he pile drives you.  Dog piles on you.  Comes at a run and jumps into you – he’s sturdy enough to knock me over if I’m not prepared!  One of our nightly rituals is the Daddy hug: Mr. Genius sits down on the floor cross-legged, and the Destroyer gets a running start and piles into him as hard as he can.  Mr. Genius topples over with the Destroyer giggling on top of him.  It’s partly play, and it’s partly real.  He’s a real quarterback kid already!

 

On a side note, it’s often quite hilarious when a doctor actually gets it.  After my sinus surgery, the doctor cautioned me against doing too much with the kids.  He said little kids are fast and unpredictable, and that’s the worse thing to have around as you heal.  And he was right!  Pretty sure he has a kid like mine.

 

You know that stupid question that the ER folks are required to ask you?  “Do you feel safe at home?”

Once I actually said something along the lines of “my kids make me feel unsafe.”  The nurse didn’t care for my humor.  I thought it was funny – especially since most of my bruises and black eyes are caused by our kids!

 

(I guess it’s a normal thing for our family – when we were dating Mr. Genius acidentally pushed me into a wooden wall – roller blades went the wrong way and BAM!  Black eye.  We still joke about that date!)

 

 

 

My Kids Are A Hazard To My Health
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