“Give me back my body”….went through my mind in an instant. I realized I was exhausted…from the pure reason of not having total and complete control over my own body. Instead, it sometimes functions as a punching bag, sometimes a pillow, sometimes a warming blanket, sometimes a stepping stool, sometimes a mode of transportation. Rarely is it free from the powerful suction cups of the writhing tentacles of 3 small bodies.
(As an aside, I’m glad that my “original” body has not been changed by carrying and birthing said three boys, when I say “Give me back my body.” I’m pretty happy with how I am – and used to enjoy when my patients at the office would ask, “you have kids?” I’d reply, “I have a 4-month-old” and they would look shocked at my slenderness. I’d quip, “I make sure to run 3-4 times a week. See, I keep telling you exercise is important!”)
My desire to have my body back all became absolutely clear a couple days ago. Mr. Ornery and The Little Guy were underfoot as usual while I was puttering around in the kitchen – well, trying to actually accomplish something along the lines of a meal – not just puttering. They are like little puppies – you’re constantly tripping over them….or pushing them out of the way to avoid tripping over them. And I stood near the oven working at the countertop with the two of them jostling each other around my knees. Suddenly, Mr. Ornery decided he needed to go retrieve something (who knows what? The Lego man for the spaceship I had skillfully crafted for him?) and he said “save my spot” before running off.
And I paused. What?!?!? “Save your spot?!?!?!” Your spot of bumping into Mommy’s legs? Your spot of trying to knock The Little Guy away? Your spot of being totally and completely in my way? Oh yes….I’ll save your spot!
The point is – this was clearly acceptable to him. As if he somehow had permission to be glued to my knees and though he had to temporarily step out of his role as a pest, he would be right back to irritate me some more! Oh yes, Little Guy, let’s you and me save his spot for him!
Where do these children develop this assumption that Mommy’s body is their property? An extension of themselves? Hmmm, I can’t reach that cup of water over there….oh wait….Mommy will get up off the couch and reach it. Hmmm, my legs are getting a bit tired from all this hiking up the hill on the farm – whew, I’ll just climb on the back of this 5’ 6” walking being and catch a ride. Gosh, I’m feeling a tad chilly, I’ll just shimmy over next to this living breathing heater and wrap that arm around my shoulders. Perfect.
It certainly is no help at all to have 3 of these beings with equally forceful opinions of their claim to my physical body. Nothing like the ol’ fight of who gets to sit beside Mommy on the couch and which side and who’s on the lap or climbing around on the back…..
I used to have this bubble around me – at least 2-3 feet from every aspect of my body. Though invisible, it was clearly seen and respected by most other human beings. And then the boys came. They don’t seem to be able to see this bubble. It’s odd, but I’m a little worried they have some sensory differentiation deficit.
I have been spat on, peed on, pooped on.
I have been punched, kicked, scratched, pinched and bit.
I have had soccer cleats smash my toes, and footballs hit my nose.
And I have had random kisses on my knees, tight squeezes, tender pats and giggly tickles.
So, if you ever hear me mumble, “give me back my body” …. just smile and nod. I’ll get over it. I’ll move on. Some day, way too soon, these guys will be uber-cool teens who won’t touch their Mom, much less let me touch them, and I’m sure I’ll miss these days. Nah – I’m going to thoroughly enjoy torturing them by touching and hugging and kissing them as much as possible when they’re 6’ 2” towering teens!!