Two things have become a regular part of my life since having a baby.
1. Burning food. This is just one of the reasons I prefer a one-story house. In a two story house, you go upstairs to read your daughter a book and completely forget about the rice on the stove. My poor pots.
2. Physical pain courtesy of my sweet little daughter. Childbirth aside, the last 17 months have been the most painful of my life. You’d be surprised how easy it is to get hurt by a 24-pound cutie. Ninety-nine percent of the time it’s completely unintentional, but that doesn’t mean that headslams, scratches, bites (those are intentional), getting stepped on, sharp elbows and knees, etc. aren’t reason enough to make me doubt my salvation by my reactions. Tonight in a five minute period while reading her a book, the following things occurred. While running towards me with the book, Violet kicked my big toe hard enough for me to check for blood. Then, she fell across my stomach punching me with her elbow. Lastly, she came in for a hug and smacked her head into my ear. I saw stars and briefly considered hiring a nanny.
Of course, she promptly picked up her dinner bowl and put it over her face to make faces at me though the clear plastic. Kinda hard to stay mad.