Flat-footed measles patient

I have probably four different posts rolling around in my head, good posts about spiritual lessons and deep insights, but instead I figured today I would regale you with child-induced injuries I've acquired. I'm not talking about the stretch marks or other fun side effects of becoming a mother. I'm talking about the battle wounds of being a mother. Still don't know what I'm talking about? It's dangerous playing with kids! Just this week I've gotten a flattened foot, a hole in the head and a bump on the nose.

Maybe moms aren't supposed to play like I do. (There certainly were several moms who watched with shock as I rolled at break-neck speeds down the big hill in front of our church.) Maybe our bodies are beyond the point of surviving childhood games. (Said mothers also laughed heartily as I nearly broke my neck crashing into the concrete bench at the bottom of said hill.) Thinking like that just makes me feel old. I'm only 31, people! I should be able to splash in puddles without getting stares, right? And people shouldn't think me strange for climbing trees. (That is until later when they witness me walking "with a hitch in my get-along" from straining my groin getting up there.)

Maybe I'm just unlucky. Take the hole in the head and the bump on the nose. The bump on the nose was absolutely no fault of mine. I was outside talking with a friend and watching the kids thoroughly enjoy the playground when a bee came out of nowhere and stung me on the nose. I haven't been stung by a bee since I was ten years old! So now I look like Rudolph.

A flat-footed Rudolph. Oh, I didn't mention the Jeep running over my foot? Yup. A big pink PowerWheels Jeep driven by two four-year-olds. We are in so much trouble when these girls are old enough to get a license. So, yeah, a flat-footed Rudolph.

Well, until today. Now I look more like a measles patient thanks to the hole in my forehead. How did I get the hole? Well, the kids and I were playing Hide and Seek at the park. Someone had recently trimmed the big willow tree so we couldn't hide under the low-sweeping branches like we usually do. Instead, Ellie and I tried to hide behind the trunk of the tree while Zach counted. Apparently the tree-trimmers didn't expect 5' 8" people to be standing so close to the tree. Trying to be quick and sneaky, I absently impaled my forehead on a freshly trimmed (not so smoothly, I'll add) branch. Yup. Big red bump on my nose, nice big hole in my head. The good news: it stopped bleeding before Ellie could stick a princess band-aid on my hairline.

Karen is probably rolling right now because she knows none of this has anything to do with motherhood. She witnessed several of my accident-prone moments in college. Like the time I victoriously stomped on a lonely dandelion only to march headlong into a tree and split my lip open. Or when I bruised my cheekbone by falling asleep at Pizza Hut and hitting my face on the table. Or hyper-extended my back learning to dive at camp. (This, however, was not the same day when I split her lip open with my elbow while she was teaching me how to dive.) Or when I got pink-eye three times in one summer. Or my wedding when I caught my veil on fire. Or a couple years later when I lost all my toenails after walking twenty miles in the rain for breast cancer.

Okay, so maybe it's just my fun life. Good thing I have a sense of humor. And I heal quickly.