Kids Are a Pain in the Neck

They should have worker’s comp for at-home moms.  I think I have quite a case.  My right shoulder has been aching for a few weeks now.  I should probably seek medical attention, but I know what they’ll tell me—rest your right arm.  Frankly, there’s about as much chance that I’ll get to rest my right arm as there is that I’ll fit into my high school jeans, so I’m not sure there’s any point in seeing the doctor.

Caveman is fond of throwing himself at me from across the room.  Princess seems to think I exist to carry her things.  Then there are the diaper changes involving an unwilling, 40-lb 2-year-old.  I keep suggesting that if he doesn’t want to have his diaper changed he could just learn to use the potty, but so far my extremely reasonable suggestion has been ignored, so I wrestle him to the changing pad and pin him down while changing his diaper.  Basically, there’s no chance my right arm will get “rest” any time soon.  I never knew raising kids would be so physically demanding.

In addition to my shoulder, there are the less-obvious kid-related “injuries.”  The extra skin around my stomach, which was, pre-kids, pretty flat despite my “plump” figure.  The need to wear a cautionary pantyliner just in case I cough or sneeze without warning.  Sciatica and heartburn, both of which made an appearance when I was pregnant with Princess and just stuck around because I have such a sparkling personality.

There’s the black eye I got when Caveman rolled off the bed and I dove to catch him, getting a tiny foot right in the eye.  The scraped legs from the time I fell while holding a baby Princess and turned my body to hit the ground so that she wouldn’t.   All injuries sustained while “working,” so I think worker’s comp should apply.

I read a news story recently focused on “parent injuries.”  It’s more common than we think—broken noses resulting from toddler headbuts, dislocated shoulders following a particularly hard “catch me, Daddy!” jump, and countless other minor ailments parents accept as part of the job.  I’m not saying I’d trade my kids for a pain-free shoulder. I’m just suggesting that OSHHA put out a brochure warning parents of the physical demands of parenting.

And maybe I’d like to be featured in an episode of “Dangerous Jobs.”


About Sarah

Sarah is obviously in love with chaos, as she has actively sought it since her daughter "Princess" was born in 2006. A cross-country move when Princess was four months old landed her back in the Silicon Valley, where her computer geek husband, Hubby 1.0, could dwell with his kind. In 2007, she decided to go to graduate school, which she’s completing as slowly as possible. When her son, "Caveman," arrived in the fall of 2008, life just got more entertaining. An aspiring librarian, Sarah is often found at story time bribing Caveman to pay attention with granola bars and goldfish. She's also on a quest to find a haircut that requires absolutely no styling and still looks good on those days when a shower just doesn't happen. In her spare time, she picks up toys, does laundry, cooks, checks facebook obsessively, submits photos to "$*%# my Kids Ruined," and organizes play dates with a great group of moms who keep her sane.

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