As a child, I was a bit of a hypochondriac. In retrospect, I was probably normal, but in my family you weren’t allowed to get sick. “Throw up a lung, and you can stay home from school,” my dad used to say. So I whined a fair-to-middling amount and then I grew up and grew out of it, I guess.
Still, life takes its toll. I now suffer from many parenthood ailments, like the following:
Mommy-neck: that strange crick in your neck and shoulder from sleeping very, very still, with a newborn in your armpit region. It takes about a year to clear up, unless you develop bedsharing elbow, which can carry on for years.
Morning illness: not to be confused with morning sickness, this is that sensation of near-death you feel every morning, and if you are male, it will probably get you out of making that 5 am bottle. Mysteriously, by 9 am, you will be cured.
Wrong-side-of-the-bed-itis: This is a tragic illness, where you wake up slightly irritated. You should go back to bed, because it never gets better. You will break a coffee cup, and your children will cut the couch with safety scissors, and your spouse will decide it is the opportune moment to offer some helpful input regarding a) your housekeeping or b) your hips. Back to bed with you.
doorgut injuries: You ram the hamper into the doorknob, it rams you in the gut. Mild profanities and bruising follow. This can also occur when attempting to pry the bathroom door open and retrieve a wet and stinky hiding “potty-trained” child. The door is slammed back into position, despite a fair portion of your body blocking it.
Namesophrenia: in which your eyes can clearly see the child you are addressing, but your mind and mouth run through a baby name book before settling on the correct one, i.e. “Rich-bry-tris-TOBIAS!”
and many more, but currently I am suffering from a good old fashioned pain in the neck, whom I love very, very much, and so I will shut this down and go Windex the floor or something.
Also: new Radiant van! Check it out!