Kiss Me I'm Bloggish

Last week I was bestowed, by the fabulous des, this wonderful award:


I failed to acknowledge this in a timely manner because, as a recipient, I am supposed to send the love onto ten other bloggers! Ack! Are you kidding? Have you seen my google reader? I subscribe to at least 50 blogs, and I read all of the 'friends shards items' AND I am a prodigious reader of several hundred other blogish sites (Stroller Derby, TWOP, PBN, Philadelphia Weekly, ad nauseum). So cropping the list down to ten was keeping me up at night!

First, I would love to return this love to des. I feel a burning desire (no pun intended) to see her tattoos up close and in person. Plus, it's fun to live vicariously through her. She just up and moved from NYC to Detroit (home of the Stanley Cup Champions, boo.) FOR LOVE! How cool is that?

Secondly, I want to call out my Philly homegirl Lora. She's one of those ladies who is going to be a big famous blogger one day, I'm sure. Funny? Yes! Adorable spawn? Check! Read her, so I can be cool when I said I knew her when...

Amy from Chicken and Cheese. Quite possibly the front runner for 'blogger I want to meet in person the most' award. Seriously. When she announced she was pregnant and not coming to BlogHer '08, I was happy for her and then totally devastated that she wasn't going to be there. P.S. I'm totally not stalking you!

Suzanne from C.U.S.S. Any blog with the word 'snatch' in the title is a winner in my book.

(Sidebar: did I ever mention that 'Snatch' was my dad's nickname in high school? I don't care to speculate on the origins of that nickname AT ALL.)

Janet from every samurai needs a mommy. Here's to rekindling old college friendships! And cute as hell babies!

The High Heeled Mama, because ATL represents. I miss you guys! Plus it's her one year blog anniversary (I loathe the term blogiversary and refuse to use it in a sentence unless it referencing how much I hate it) so go over and wish her some happy more to come!

Catherine, because her and her lady parts need all the love they can get. Plus: new baby happiness!

Susan, over at Stuff and Nonsense. Write more, damn it. Our thursday phone dates aren't cutting it! I need the written word of Susan!

The New Girl. If you don't finish that birth story in the next few days, I will find you and force you to tell it to me in person. And I mean that in a totally fun, non-threatening way!

And finally, Miss Zoot and her whole brood. Again with the new baby deliciousness! All these bloggers having babies are really out to make me ovulate, I just know it. Plus she was the originator of the lovely pink and green template I used to use before I broke it.

So there it is. My ten. There are ten more, and ten more beyond that, but I am tired. Thanks again Miss d for your continued love and adoration of my cute-as-buttons offspring!

I Forgot To Mention This...

And you know what makes it even sweeter?


The three bills that came along with the certificate! I was very happy with the final results. I officially lost 17 pounds during this contest, but if I were a betting woman I would wager that I gained at least a few back on vacation. The woman who came in first place was so far and away ahead of everyone else I knew there was no way I could catch her. She works at the front desk and is the nicest. lady. ever. so if I had to lose to someone I'm glad it was her! I'm still far, far away from my ultimate goal, but that's ok. With my past weigh loss endeavors, the slow and steady losses were the ones that stuck better. The Y is going to do another Biggest Loser beginning in January and my goal is not to participate. Because I'm already all skinny-fied, see?

Wish me luck!

Remeber that Time I Had to Forcibly Remove Sam from Swim Class? That Was Fun.

Oh, today was a fun one.

Ever since we got home on Saturday both kids have been like little Jekyll and Hyde's. One moment sweet and loving, the next instant making curse the day they were born. My mother-in-law came for a visit on Sunday afternoon, which, while fun, only added to the chaos for the kiddos. All morning Sam was on good behavior, so I should have known I was in for it. But the cock-eyed optimist in me was hoping the trend of goodness would continue.

WRONG!

As soon as we got outside to leave for swimming he took off through the yard, attempting to slip through the small space in the fence that leads to the neighbor's yard. You know, the space that I, or any other adult, could never fit through but that a 2 year old could slip through with ease. Yeah, that one. Luckily I caught him in the nick of time. He's really been into running away from us lately, and god help me I'm going to end up giving him a separated shoulder. I usually just barely manage to grab him by one arm just before he darts into traffic, slips through fence holes, falls down the steps, etc. So I grab him up and we pack into the car.

As soon as we got into the pool I calmed down. He was so excited that the water wasn't freezing (like at the beach) that he kept laughing and telling me that the water was hot! Yay! But when our regular teacher didn't show up and the fill in was instructing from the deck, things got ugly.

He started by grabbing my hair, clumped into a bun on top of my head so as to keep it dry, and yanked it as hard as he could to get me to put my face into the water. All the while he's screaming 'Mommy do! Mommy do!' None of the other kids, naturally, are trying to drown their mothers, so they are all giving me the stink eye over the yelling.

Later in the class the kids get little toys to throw and swim to. Usually Sam is really good during this portion of class because there is this one particular toy he adores. It's a cup that is shaped like a monkey head (a very realistic monkey head, I might add) that has a handle and a spout at the mouth. He calls it the whoo-whoo bucket, and if given the choice he prefers a yellow one. For a few minutes he was pleasant and cooperative. However, when it was time to put the whoo-whoo bucket away, things got ugly. Specifically, he took the whoo-whoo bucket and used it to smack me in the face as hard as he could. Almost instantly I could feel my lip starting to swell. I pulled him in close, explained that he gave mommy a big boo-boo, and that if he had one more incident of bad behavior we were leaving class early.

Well, that's what I meant to say. What I actually said probably wasn't that, um, nice.

Not even two minutes later all of us mommies were putting the kids on the deck for their jumping exercises when Sam spied the lap lane dividers. Occasionally someone will want to swim laps during our class time and the lifeguards will pull the lap dividers into the pool, and Sam is just fascinated by this. As soon as he saw them, he started moving towards them, all the while watching my face. I used my 'nice but threatening' voice to call him back over, but he was already too far gone. 'Mommy, NO!' he exclaimed, and when he turned to run he ended up pushing the little girl next to us into the pool. Thank god her mother was right there to catch her. And that the woman who teaches the class right before ours was still there, because she grabbed up Sam before he could hurt anyone else or himself. The water is almost five feet deep where we were, and it's is almost a foot below the deck so I was having trouble climbing out. She offered to hand him back to me down in the pool, but I just shook my head, climbed out and headed us off to the showers.

Unfortunately the bad behavior didn't end there. There were several tantrums thrown, and at one point he slammed our locker door while my head was inside, giving me a nice bump to add to my fat lip. I had intended to squeeze a small workout in after swimming class, but he was being too rotten for the babysitters too, so we headed home.

During the entirety of our ten minute drive he kept repeating 'Sorry Mommy. Mommy, sorry.' I could tell from his voice and his face that he meant it, too. It was breaking my heart just a little. As soon as we got home I put him in his bed even though it was almost two hours before his regular nap time. He was asleep in less than two minutes.

Two hours later he is still asleep.

Two hours later and my swollen lip has gone down.

Two hours later and I am keeping my fingers crossed that I get my sweet Sammy back after this nap. And maybe that I can get in a workout sometime this afternoon.

It's Fun to Play at the YMCA!

Sam and I have been taking swimming lessons for almost a month now at our local Y. He is really getting into it. Just yesterday I had to hold him on my lap to keep him from climbing into the pool while we waited for the ExerSwim class to end. You don't mess with the ladies in the ExerSwim class. This is a huge change from the earlier weeks when he would cling to my neck for dear life. Now he'll float on his back with my hands beneath him, he'll jump in from a seated position on the wall and he'll swim on his belly with my hands supporting him. He looks forward to swim day so much it's hard not to get excited on Tuesday mornings.

However, I get excited for a slightly different reason.

Sam's swim teacher, Mr. Tyler, is A-dorable. I've always had A Thing for swimmers, hockey players and geeks. And any combination of the three drives me absolutely bonkers with lust. Mr. Tyler is a lovely blend of swimmer and geek, from what I can deduce. He makes up all sorts of delightful songs for the kids, like 'If you're happy in the water splash your hands.' Plus, he bears more than a passing resemblance to a boyfriend I had in 10th grade who was also a YMCA swim instructor and life guard. And also dreamy. The best part is that he has no idea he has this effect on me, making said effect even stronger.

But given that the name Tyler didn't even appear on the 'top 100 names' list until the 80's, I think it's safe to say that Mr. Tyler is a wee bit young for me. He's at least out of high school since he teaches our class on Tuesdays at 10am, but I doubt he's done with college.

Now, we've all had innocent crushes. This is not the kind of thing where I plan on having a clandestine love affair with the Y pool boy. But for some reason I feel a little dirty. Maybe it's the age thing. Although I honestly doubt I'm more than 10 years older than him, so it's really not that bad. I guess it's the difference in relative age. Even a minor age difference seems major when one party has two kids and a mortgage. I feel like a cougar simply because I'm there with my toddler.

So I'll try and get over my crush on Mr. Tyler. That way my motivation to jump in the pool won't be to wash away the skanky feeling I get when I see him, but instead to help teach my son to swim.

Except maybe for those nights when SOB is on call...

A:

Janet asks: who was your first pre-teen celebrity crush? Kirk Cameron, hands down.

Mrs. Chicken wants to know: why "Cheese Party" and what's with the obsession with putting your head in a hole and taking pictures? First, the title. It was, honestly, a random association of two things I love. Initially this blog had a horrible name, so after my second or third post I decided to change things up. 'Cheese' and 'Party' seemed to fit my odd-ball personality and my penchant for soirées.

And the head holes? Are a riot. Sam and Lucy will be forced into these types of photographs for their entire minor-hood.

Chrissie queries: My question is ... when is the next hot hands tournament? Tell your husband to BRING IT ON! I'm not playing, though. Can't risk injuring my delicate hands. I'll just document!

Lora inquires: (I'm going to take this one point by point since she's asked several)

-My question is-Do you feel older? Not really. I feel fatter, but I'm working on that.
-How old do you feel? Maybe a little younger than I am. But then I remind myself that I'm a member of the Woman's Club and then I feel older.
-How old do you think you look? I'm not sure. You tell me! I won't be offended. I swear!

I'm the one in the middle, holding the adorable baby

-How old do you think other people think you look? See my answer to the last question. And click on the picture to make it big so you can really see all the details.
-Did you think you'd have kids by now? Yes. My mom was 19, so before I really knew any better, I thought that's when I'd have my first kid, too.
-Did you want to have kids by now? Yes. I knew I was getting hitched to SOB at 17, and we started talking about babies before we were 20. We knew we were too young and too poor to actually have any, but the idea was in the pipeline.
-What did you want to have accomplished by 29 that you did? My main goal as a youth was to move far away from home. I only made it 300 miles, but they're a long 300. Pittsburgh and Philly are about as different as they come, so I feel much farther away. Oh, and being happily married to someone I love more than pizza. Lots of other things, too, but I'm too tired to catalog them.
-That you didn't? I always had very lofty (and somewhat strange) goals as a young woman. I wanted to save the leopard population through a series of genetically specific mate parings. I wanted to win a Tony award. Just to name a few.
-Does 30 freak you out? Not at all. I've never been an ageist. As long as I can keep up with my kids I'll be forced feel young. Although I did get an AARP card in the mail last week.
-What do you consider "old"? 78. Really. Up until then it's dependent upon the individual. My two grandmothers are almost the same age, but one seems 20 years younger than the other. Once you're late in the septuagenarian years, though, you're old.
-Has it changed in the last few years? Nope.

HBM questions: what's your view on birthdays in general? Do they get better or worse? I've always loved my birthday, and hopefully always will. The presents get worse for a little while and then they get better again. Between those odd teen years where no one knows what to get you and then the early adult years where no one can afford to get you anything they kind of suck. Not that I'm materialistic or anything. I just like presents. And you don't?

Susan ponders: What is the one thing that you do that you would lie, lie, lie about if anyone ever caught you doing it? Picking my nose. We all do it, but none of us (including me) want to admit it! Incidentally, what do you think would happen if you never picked your nose? Would you get a giant booger obstructing your nasal passages?

And finally, Anonymous wonders: How do you see you life, your family, all around you, in 5 years? Perhaps we'll be in the same neighborhood, but maybe in a bigger house (maybe because we'll have another baby, but don't tell SOB I said that!) Sam will be in 2nd grade and Lucy in 1st, so we'll be busy, I'm sure. Hopefully I'll be at least a little thinner. Lucy and her new BFF Liliana will make each other friendship bracelets. SOB and I will go on vacation for our 10th anniversary, sans children. Sam will win the class spelling bee. All will be right with the world, just like it is now.

Worth at Least $5 Apiece

Mothers and sons have an interesting relationship dynamic. In most cases, your mom is the first woman you'll ever love. She'll be the person you run to when you skin your knees or when you get your heart broken. Having a little lad of my own, I can already see how difficult it is going to be when another person takes over the top spot in his world.

(Pausing for a moment to get some tissues...wah!)

Over the years my mother-in-law and I have struck a nice balance with SOB and his affections, though it wasn't always smooth sailing. I can't imagine it ever is. I can predict with almost certainty that I will be the harshest critic of anyone who comes home on Sammy's arm. I'll probably keep my opinions to myself and have a hefty amount of self-loathing because of it, but there is nothing I can do to stop it.

My mother-in-law is an emphatic and gregarious woman who loves her children to a fault. I got the feeling that she liked me, but I wasn't too confident in my ability to read her emotions. However, she gave me a gift once that cemented, in my mind, her feelings for me.


Here's another angle.


In case you couldn't tell, those are my husband's teeth, gold plated. She made me this pin from charms that represented my interests, such as the music note and the cat. Then right in the front she applied his wisdom teeth, extracted shortly after we got together.

Maybe I was mistaken, but I took this gift as a symbolic passing of the torch. When SOB was a young boy, his baby teeth became her keepsakes under the guise of the tooth fairy. Now he was grown, a man in most ways, still a boy in others, but no longer hers. When she drove him home from the dentist that day, all groggy and drowsy from the medications, those teeth filled her pockets in a way his baby teeth never could. And she knew she had to give them to me.

For over a year I wore this pin on the lapel of my coat. I don't wear it very often now, but it is still one of my most cherished possessions. When I do take it out and pin it to my jacket, I smile. Not just because of the funny looks people on the street give me, but because of the way it helped to define a relationship that is very dear to me.

Borderline

In other boob-related news...

(Don't you just love when posts start out that way?)

On Monday I took Lucy down to the lactation center at the hospital where Sam was born to have her weighed. Gaging from her outfits I could tell the kid was growing, but I wanted some hard numbers. Let me just tell you that 'the girls' are working hard. She tipped the scale at twelve pounds two days shy of turning seven weeks old. Since SOB was the one actually weighing her, at first I assumed he hadn't done it correctly. Never mind that fact that he's a doctor, I made the woman working there come over and 'help' him re-weigh her. Guess what? They do teach you to weigh babies in med school, 'cause his weight was correct. That means she gained three pounds in four weeks. Almost one and three quarter ounces a day. If I'm making such mean breast milk, then why isn't my ass getting any smaller? (More on that later!)

Speaking of 'the girls,' while I was there I decided to try on a few nursing bras. They had some really pretty ones, and I feel guilty just using the scale. The way I figure, as long as I act like I might buy something then I can use the scale with a clear conscience. Don't ask me why this rationale works for me. It just does. Anyway! I took a few bras off the rack and headed for the dressing room. I had pulled the largest sizes I could find from the rack, but my rack wouldn't fit into any damn one of them! I politely asked through the curtain if they had any larger sizes. All of a sudden the worker lady pulled back the curtain and descended upon me with her tape measure. The main reason none of the bras fit was because I am now officially a D cup. Actually, according to worker lady, I'm more of a D-bordering-on-E cup.

Um, What?

Before I had Sam, I was one of those barely B cup girls. For reals. Now my boobs are hugely out of control. Now I'm one of those girls who can't buy bras in the regular store. Well, since I'm nursing I wasn't buying bras in the regular store anyway, but you get my drift.

I'm calling the entire experience 'the afternoon of the ever expanding tot and amazing expanding tits!'

Homecoming

SOB came home on Saturday. Despite the fact that he's gone again, he was here for a glorious 36 hours.

All week, I envisioned our reunion. I got my hair cut and eyebrows (among other things) waxed. I went shopping for some lovely little snacks at our neighbors' bakery. I cleaned the house from top to bottom. In my head, I would be well dressed and well groomed, holding a freshly bathed Lucy while Sam stood next to me in a dapper little ensemble as SOB rolled up the driveway. The picture of domestic bliss.

But let me tell you what really happened.

We spent waaaaaaay too much time with good friends at the bakery, lingering over conversation and cakes. In my haste to get some grocery/target shopping done before SOB's arrival, I neglected to check Lucy's diaper. Which was apparently nearing capacity. During our shopping excursion, she was snugly buckled into her car seat and snapped into the stroller. Oh, graco travel system, how we love thee. You make it so easy. The baby fell asleep the second we put here in there, and stayed asleep the entire three hours we were out. And that's why I 'forgot' to change her diaper. I managed to not notice that she was sitting in a puddle of poo until we were transferring her back into the car from the stroller. The poo puddle was so sizable that it had soaked through the car seat and had begun dripping down into the stroller.

Once we got home I took her, still in the car seat, up to the tub. I knew that the process of getting her out of there and out of her clothes was going to be a messy one, so I took of my clothes and just threw on a ratty old t-shirt. I fished her from her poo puddle, stripped her down and hosed her off. Sam, wanting a bath of his own, came in and started shrieking. I managed to get Lucy back into a diaper just as Sam was ripping his off.

All of a sudden, I heard a voice. A man's voice. And so did Sammy. He tore off for the stairs with his tiny ass hanging out. I managed to get a hold of him before he dove down the steps, but just barely. With Lucy clad only in a diaper, me in a t-shirt and underpants, and Sam in his birthday suit, we trudged downstairs to greet SOB.

Not exactly the reunion I had in mind, but it was still as sweet as I had hoped it would be.

Back in the Saddle

I just got back from my first bikini wax since I was pregnant with Sammy. It was quite an adventure, to say the least. My trusty Russian woman kept clicking her tongue and shaking her head at me. And? I forgot the first rule of bikini waxes: take an advil half an hour before you go to help stave off some of the discomfort.

Do I even need to say it?

Ouch.

Redefining Inappropriate

We've had an interesting, boundary defining day here at the casa de queso.

Sam has been very interested in watching me breastfeed Lucy. He'll point at her mouth and then at my boob and make his little question face. So far, I think I've handled it pretty well. But I started pumping this week. And that? Is harder to explain to a 19 month old. He sits and watches me so intently. When he sees the milk, he seems to understand that it's not the same as his milk, but it's still weird. Today he got his hands on my (clean) pump. He then immediately lifted his shirt and tried to pump some milk of his own. Of course I laughed, which only encouraged him. So for the next half an hour we had to giggle at Sam as he attempted to milk himself.

Then there's this:


Nothing says 'Mommy loves you' like frozen breast milk nestled between two bottles of vodka.

I saved the most disturbing for last, so mentally prepare yourselves.

Sam interest in the potty and all bathroom related things has skyrocketed lately. He loves loves loves to be in the room when you're performing your dirty sinful business. Flushing has become his new Little Gym. Hand washing is one of the most exciting parts of his day. So this morning he joined me as I peed. I reached for some toilet paper, and Sam reached out for some as well. Since we've been telling him that he can only flush when there is paper in the bowl, I figured that he just wanted to toss it in to have a good reason to push the lever. So imagine my shock and horror when he offered some assistance with the wiping. As in, my baby boy tried to clean my cooter.

I am a horrible parent.

Oh, and By the Way...

I nursed Sam for almost 16 months, and Lucy, too, is breastfed. In public, I rarely use a blanket to cover my child when I nurse, 'cause guess what? The baby covers the boob quite well. I'm more likely to use the blanket to conceal my flabby post-partum belly! This whole facebook thing is outrageous. If I had an account, you can be damn sure it would have been canceled.

Born to breast feed. And to read blogs.

Check out the League of Maternal Justice for button codes and more info on the virtual nurse-in!

Inevitability

After all of the good luck (from the dead crow) things have finally started to go south. A little, at least.

We had a plumber over yesterday to take a gander under the sink, where a small leak had been discovered the night before. I called several and the only one who called me back was Pennsylvania Dutch. Which means I couldn't understand a single holy word that was coming out of his mouth. With the help of Allison, we were able to deduce that the previous home owner did a lot of DIY stuff that wasn't quite up to code. Actually, it was downright illegal. Luckily, the leak isn't terrible, and it shouldn't be too expensive to fix. So next week, the sink gets some fixin'.

Later on, the phone died. The line works fine up to the house, but not inside, so it's our problem. Nice. SOB seems to think he'll be able to fix it, so we're without a home phone until next Saturday. Which wouldn't be a problem except that the stone walls essentially zap my cell phone signal down to nothing, so I either have to talk out in the front yard or in the third floor bathroom.

Oh, and Sam tried to kill Lucy three times yesterday. First he threw a picture frame at her head, missing her soft spot by millimeters. Then he poured a cup of ice water on her face. And half an hour later he chucked a toy at her head again. Fun times!

Does this boy look like he could be the perpetrator of such evil?

Wherein the Creatures in This House Plot My Downfall

For the past two nights, Lucy has refused to sleep in her bed. The same exact bed she snoozes away in peacefully all throughout the day. Nope, once the sun goes down, it's in the arms or nothing.

It is killing me.

I finally gave up and came downstairs at 5:45am, leaving her in SOB's capable arms. Seconds after I sat down on one of the inflatable chairs, the cat sauntered over and puked on my laptop bag.

And Sam, just this instant, started howling.

And I haven't even mentioned the ants. The millions and millions of ants. Who have apparently been dining on the millions and millions of fruity cheerios that were hidden under my furniture. And are now pissed because their food supply has been sucked up by my hoover and disposed of.

Is it Friday yet?

I Know You're All Out There Thinking, 'Can She Please Write Another Post About Poo?'

This morning SOB had to participate in a conference where pig hearts were dissected, leaving Allison and I alone with the kiddies. Sad to say, she's come down with Sam's bum disease. I wasn't in top form because I was up most of the night with little Lucy.

(Seriously, why is it that the girl will sleep for a three or four hour stretch during the day, but barely goes more than two hours in a row once the sun has gone down? Killing. Me.)

Anyhoodle, Allison wanted to get some ginger ale, so she packed Sam up and walked over to the supermarket. I was nursing little lady while they were gone, and she got all squirmy in my arms. All of a sudden, I heard the very distinguished sound of a newborn taking a big old dump. If you've ever been around one, you know what I mean. Not even two seconds later, I felt a warm, wet sensation on my arm. Yep, diaper blow out. I stripped her down and bathed her in the sink, washed ANOTHER load of laundry, and resumed life as usual.

Sam and Allison came home, and Sam seemed ready for his nap. Since Lucy was all passed out over the stress of being dunked in the drink, I took Sam up. I changed his diaper, sung him a song and out him to bed. Lately, I've been skipping putting his shorts back on after the diaper change and letting him nap in just his shirt.

You see where this is going, don't you?

After about ten minutes of crying I decided to go and investigate. Guess what I found? A hundred brown foot prints, and two huge pieces of crap. Huge as in could have come from a 350 pound man. Sam was bawling his head off, and I think it was because he may have, either on purpose or by accident, gotten some of the poop into his mouth. There were some brown streaks on his face and hands. I wasn't there for an immaculate interception this time.

Oh and he had also managed to sprinkle tons of pee all over his bed and all of the boxes of toys that were within firing range, so to speak.

I won't even go into the whole cleaning process except to say that no less than 14 showers were involved. As soon as SOB got home, I ran out the door and went to the nail salon. I needed to go somewhere and do something that came with a 100% guarantee of no poop. At all whatsoever!

In other, non-poop related news, I have deja vu.

SamLucy

Freaky, huh?

40 Weeks

Today was my due date. Tomorrow morning we head to the hospital to be induced. Today we spoiled Sam rotten, feeding him french fries and ice cream and giving him presents. I cried almost non-stop. Knowing that today was our last day as a family of three was a bit heartbreaking at moments. All of the moments, really.

Once we're in the recovery area, we'll be online again, so even though I can't live-blog from L&D, I'll be back soon! Until then, I'll leave you with this photo of me in my maternity bathing suit:

Suzanne over at Campaign for Unshaven Snatch (CUSS) and Other Rants has started the Swimsuit Brigade. The intention is to showcase what real women look like in swimsuits, no airbrushing allowed! Plus I wanted to get one final shot of the big pregnant belly. As I said earlier, I spent a good portion of the day weeping, so please forgive the puffy eyes.

The next time I see ya'll, I'll have a new baby! Eeeps!

Real Moms Kiss and Make it All Better

Real moms can't protect their kids every moment of every day, and they don't beat themselves up over it. Although sometimes it looks like they beat up their kids.


Note the bruise above his eye. He fell into one of the lovely living room poles. There was much crying.

Then later this week he came home from daycare with a big strawberry brush burn on his nose.

On Friday his chipped his front tooth.

Aside from the day care nose incident, I was within arms reach of Sam when these injuries occurred. There was nothing, short of padding my entire home or bubble wrapping my kid, that I could have done to prevent them. Luckily, my mother seems to have passed on her magical 'kiss and make it all better' powers to me.

Kristen, the one woman internet phenom, started this meme. Click here to see all of the other posts.

Updated to add: Enter the Real Mom Truths contest! The winner will receive this amazing 4G iPod Nano and Chocolate gift set, plus a link to their post on True Mom Confessions on Mother's Day!