My Pie, the cage fighter

I didn’t realize that motherhood would be such a violent, injurious contact sport. I didn’t realize I’d get so many baby finger pokes-in-the-eye, so many punches to the thorax, so many kicks to the kidneys, ribs, pancreas, bladder… I didn’t realize I’d get a finger-hook in the nose or a stab in the stomach. I didn’t realize that every part of my body would become a stepping stone trampoline. I wasn’t expecting my bed to become my own torture chamber, as directed by a tiny, strong ball of baby violence.

I knew I’d be tired and I knew I’d have poop up to my eyeballs. I knew I’d have little time for myself and I expected a deterioration of my capacity to do housework.

What I was not expecting was to have a baby come at me like a rabid, heavy-breathing, growling wolf when she wants to nurse. I wasn’t expecting tiny feet with the weight of an elephant on my throat. I was not expecting the elbows and knees like hammers to my chest.

I wasn’t expecting her to pull my hair and scratch my face for comfort as she drifted off to sleep. I wasn’t expecting being slapped when she’s excited or clawed at when she’s upset or tired. I wasn’t expecting the biting and hickeys and mouth-bopping. I wasn’t expecting her to use her head as a tool and a weapon.

I was expecting motherhood to be difficult, to ask everything of me and to change me. I was expecting my relationship with the Mountain Man to become more complex and less simple. I was expecting the aches and pains of chasing a crawler and suffocating under a pile of laundry.

I wasn’t expecting that my baby would be a professional  kung-fu-wrestling-MMA-sumo cage fighter. Nobody warned me about that.

But I have scars that make me part of the club, to prove my motherhood, to give me a lifetime of stories. I wasn’t expecting my Pie to be a solid, furious weapon of mom destruction, but I think we’re going to be OK. I’ll just bandage myself up and put my money on the Pie to take down all opponents.


  1. Oh, I am in the Mommy Victim Club too. Just wait until your baby smiles a lovely smile at you and then PUNCHES you in the face with all her might (HARD!), perhaps while you are carrying her up the stairs and would not be allowed to drop her. You are shocked, and you do drop her. Oh, the fun moments you have to look forward to! I envy you!

    best (of luck to ya),

  2. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! The other day I was carry Eliza on my hip in the sling and she kept biting my boob, over and over. She also thought my "stern" NO! voice was HILARIOUS. Fantastic. Another mama-friend of mine has a split lip from when her sweet baby boy threw the remote at her head.

    Do we tell people we "fell down the stairs?" Or perhaps, "a box fell on my face from a high shelf?"

  3. Ah, the Mommy Victim Club...I too, have earned my scars. Tobias likes to claw at me with his little wolverine-like claws, on my face, my neck, my legs, basically wherever there's skin showing. He loves to pull my hair; he just grabs two fistfuls of hair and tries to use them as reins to guide me. And he's a kicker, but he was a kicker in the womb too.

    The best stories I have haven't happened to me, thankfully. Tobi likes to grab at men's facial hair, so be grabs and pulls both Pete's and Matt's (his babysitter) facial hair. The best (?) story is when Tobi decided to headbutt my husband as he was being carried down the stairs. Knocked Pete literally off his feet; he fell flat on his back (still holding our future WWE champ), slipped down the stairs, hit the bottom. It was only at this point that Tobi started to cry, but he didn't have a bump or scratch on him. My husband, though, hurt his back, bruised his ribs, and he had a bruise on his jaw at the point of contact. Moral of the story: don;t make my baby mad, he'll take you out!

    Since then, we carry our son down the stairs like a sack of potatoes.

  4. YES! part of me wishes there was a way to semi-permanently remove my boy's finger nails! i swear i'm clipping every other day, but i always go to bed with all kinds of scratches. my most recent injury was a black eye from his head. not pleasant!

  5. Wow, I didn't know that there was a club! Apparently I don't know what I don't know. Our new thing is eyeball gouging. Apparently I don't need those anymore.


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